Rachel Givens's Poetry Flyer

Honoring Veterans

Through the sounds of gunshots and the pain of battle wounds.


The boom of bombs thunders in the distance.

When you come back, your appearance might be frightening.

Missing limbs, wounded faces.

All I see is a determined caring person fighting for changes.
The soldiers standing there are serious.

They fought for our freedom.



As I stare into the mirror all I feel is shame, they are the ones that are to blame.

I no longer see the beautiful, young girl I used to be.

Disheveled hair strewn across my face, hiding me.

Makeup smeared in every place.

Ugly is what they call me.

Confidence dropping every second I dare to stare in the mirror.

Pimples sprouting here and there,

Too fat, too skinny. I can never win..

I’m just trying to fit in.


Oh why don’t they like me, why can’t I be like them.

Thigh gap, beach blonde hair, they’re perfect everywhere.

Though their hateful words finally seeping through my skin, it doesn’t stop me from wanting to be just like them.

Stupid, ugly, fat, loser.

I’ve been called every name in the book,

Daring once again to take another look in the mirror.

I gaze up to my hideous face, cringing instantly,

Knowing straight away this was a mistake.

After years of this harassment I’ve finally started believing them.

I no longer see the beautiful, young girl I used to be.

Ugly is what I am.

Acrostic Ocean Poem


Countless things to discover

Endless levels of mystery

Adventure awaits

Never ending

My Favorite Poem: Fear No More

Fear no more the heat o' the sun;
Nor the furious winter's rages,
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages;
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney sweepers come to dust.

Fear no more the frown of the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke:
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Nor the all-dread thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan;
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!

William Shakespeare