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Jaicob Jul 2021
Being the eldest son is tough.
You always bear the toughest blows
From punishments and such.
Parents blame you for everything
But thirteen years of it?
God.. That's just too much.

Sure, my sibling is cute,
Smart, and headstrong too,
But they're just such a pain sometimes.
If there's anything to remember,
It's that they're a selfish, stuck-up brat
To the point it should be a crime.

My sibling has ruined my life.
If only I just lived alone.
That would honestly be great...
I wouldn't have to deal with them
Or hear another one of their whines
While they look at me with hate.

I'd have my parents all to myself.
I'd have time to finally relax
And have peace like no other...
I'd waste my time all day
And wouldn't have to share my stuff,
But I wouldn't get to be a brother-
THAT is reward enough.
ebh Jun 2021
ME: I’ve called you all here today to ask you something.
BROTHER 1: [looking sideways at the door]
BROTHER 2: Hmm.
MOM: [smiling widely in that way that says she knows]
DAD: [smiling widely in that way that says he doesn’t]
ME: To be frank, I don’t think you all like each other very much. Is that true?
MOM: [smile gets tighter, hand reaches towards phone]
DAD: No, it’s not. [scratching side of head nervously]
BROTHER 2: Hmm.
BROTHER 1: You all bore me.
ME: We know we do.
MOM: [typing furiously]
[silence punctuated by dog licking his leg]
ME: So, now what?
BROTHER 1: [rolling eyes slowly and obviously] What do you mean, now what?
ME: Well, I mean where do we go from here?
MOM: We don’t. We just stay here or nothing at all.
BROTHER 2: Hmm.
DAD: What else can we do? How do we know doing anything at all would be better?
ME: I am tired of writing poems in my head about us. We have to do something.
[silence punctuated by dog coughing]
BROTHER 1: ******* and your poems. Do you want to hang out?
MOM: I love you all but I can’t stand any of you.
BROTHER 2: Can we be done now?
ME: We’ll never be done.
ALL: We’ll never be done.
[dog sneezes]
i cannot post this on my poetry instagram bc my family might see it so have this… thing… idk
Jace Apr 2021
An outsider in my second home
Ignored and forgotten
Oldest child syndrome
Nobody asks, nobody cares
Always blamed
Never heard
Mum Look what I did!
Oh great now look at her
My sisters always done something better
Couldn’t care less
Make your bed
Fold your clothes
Leave the house
Don’t go back home
See you next week
Bye mum
We’ll watch another film
Except we won’t because
There’s never time
Duckie Apr 2021
As kids we were close,
Pushing each other on a swing during humid afternoons,
Scrapping over the biggest piece of cake,
Singing and strumming old rock songs on a video game,
Cheesing in the odd school picture together,
Hiding the family dog upstairs, cartoon shows on the tv,
Volume at its highest, all to drown the rows vibrating the walls
From downstairs,
It seemed back then we had each others back,
Sobbed for the same reasons at night,
Nervously bit at the skin around our nails over unknown noises,
Shook a knee with every thought of fleeing our hometown,
Yet now we don’t even know each other,
The distance runs thicker than blood,
He said she said infiltrating a possible recovery of a bond,
I often wonder how it can be, two people from
One home, both living on different planets,
Almost generations away from beliefs we once shared,
Pinching at each others emotions from another continent.


I found a journal from when I was my angsty teen self,
Words of fury coated most pages,
Some rhymes of regret,
Plenty of mischievous essays,
Page 94 had no explanation, just a date, some doodling
And one sentence,
“You were the first one to break my heart.”


As kids we were close,
But what do kids know.
Unpolished Ink Apr 2021
She’s been gone
for so long
we are different now
much older
and perhaps a little colder inside
because something in all of us died
when she did!
My big sister would have been 60 today
Monique LV Apr 2021
Some days I mourn my childhood
Washed away into the sea, on a brittle wooden raft
The world was so far out of reach
But my heart was dying to be crushed by it
I was a jester, making everyone else's bleeding heads fill with laughter
The sweat leaked from our palms
Hard labor for unappreciative guests
And I ache for the pain we shared
It was ours to grow together, over watered and drowned by the old shed out back
Now the distance in our lives grows larger
And I am proud of what we made
But I miss you terribly.
I want you to be my brother
The brother that I knew when I met you

I want to reclaim the safety
That naturally enveloped me

I want you to be the brother
The one that I could trust like no other

I've been painfully missing my brother
The brother that you used to be

The problem is that you don't miss your sister
You do not miss me
the problem is that you do not miss me
💔🖤💙😥
twinklinginblue Feb 2021
Dear brother
I miss you

the lion heart
that beats in your chest
the hot-blooded courage
and the loud roaring laughter

We are opposites
and yet so similar
now I am sitting here
a moon without light
a ebb without riptide

Dear brother
I miss you so much
Dave Robertson Dec 2020
It’s about now that my brother,
like some atomic clock for childhood illness,
gets the annual razor blade throat of tonsillitis.
As much as it’s a pain for him,
has he no consideration for me?
Who’ll be better than me
at playing with my toys now?
Dad?
Pfffft.
Marco Dec 2020
Poem written waiting outside the club
that my brother and I frequent
together -
scene:
a hundred mouths breathe clouds
into the biting air,
cold of a Friday night
security at the door, screaming
a sea of voices asking
"can you take me in with you? I'm not old enough"
and the growling of boys half drunk
already
my brother tall, pushed against me

Poem written at the back of the club
that my brother and I frequent
together -
and scene:
us, scouring the dancefloor together
us, drinking ***** lemon on the sidelines
us, stretching necks to see if we
know anyone in here,
half-poised to
escape
should we need to
(we don't want to see others)

Poem written standing at the bar
that my brother and I
frequent together -
this scene:
spilled on the dark, chipped wood
euro bills
sticky cocktails
nose blood
and my hand, washed
in the mix
of liquids
it is 2 a.m.

Poem written waiting outside the toilets
that my brother and I
frequent
apart -
now, scene:
him, nowhere to be found
line, endless
girls, loud and crying, laughing
and my foot tapping
nervously
to the bass that makes
the walls vibrate
and shake

Poem written in the parking lot of the club
that my brother and I
just squeezed out of -
last scene:
him, sober, hands on steering wheel
my eyes, unfocused, trained on
the electric blue of his car radio
playing our after-club mix
coming down, silently
no words between us
only deep-bassed beats
and intoxicated breath
our minds as spent
and exhausted
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