20 Best Poems About Hating Someone

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Reading poems about hate can help you purge yourself of all the ill feelings in your heart. Hate is an emotion that can create inner turmoil in you. It is powerful enough to consume you from within.

When you realize someone hates you, you feel uncomfortable and lose your peace of mind. However, when you develop feelings of hatred, it is important to address them as early as possible.

Since these feelings distract you from positivity, expressing them through words can help you heal faster. This post has a list of poems about hate that will help you find inner solace and inspire you to build positivity. Keep scrolling.

‘I Hate You’ Poems

When someone hurts you terribly, you experience a mix of anger, betrayal, grief,pain, and a sense of repugnance towards the person who caused the harm. Every stanza of these poems help you vent your feelings and usher peace into your heart.

1. To My Enemy

Let those who will offriendshipsing,
And to its guerdon grateful be,
But I a lyric garland bring
To crown thee, O, mine enemy!

Thanks, endless thanks, to thee I owe
For that my lifelong journey through
Thine honest hate has done for me
What love perchance had failed to do.

I had not scaled such weary heights
But that I held thy scorn in fear,
And never keenest lure might match
The subtle goading of thy sneer.

Thine anger struck from me a fire
That purged all dull content away,
Our mortal strife to me has been
Unflagging spur from day to day.

And thus, while all the world may laud
The gifts of love and loyalty,
I lay my meed of gratitude
Before thy feet, mine enemy!

— Lucy Maud Montgomery

2. Let Such Pure Hate Still Underprop

Let such pure hate still underprop
Our love, that we may be
Each other’s conscience,
And have our sympathy
Mainly from thence.

We’ll one another treat like gods,
And all the faith we have
In virtue and in truth, bestow
On either, and suspicion leave
To gods below.

Two solitary stars–
Unmeasured systems far
Between us roll;
But by our conscious light we are
Determined to one pole.

What need confound the sphere?–
Love can afford to wait;
For it no hour’s too late
That witnesseth one duty’s end,
Or to another doth beginning lend.

It will subserve no use,
More than the tints of flowers;
Only the independent guest
Frequents its bowers,
Inherits its bequest.

No speech, though kind, has it;
But kinder silence doles
Unto its mates;
By night consoles,
By day congratulates.

What saith the tongue to tongue?
What hearest ear of ear?
By the decrees of fate
From year to year,
Does it communicate.

Pathless the gulf of feeling yawns;
No trivial bridge of words,
Or arch of boldest span,
Can leap the moat that girds
The sincere man.

No show of bolts and bars
Can keep the foeman out,
Or ‘scape his secret mine,
Who entered with the doubt
That drew the line.

No warder at the gate
Can let the friendly in;
But, like the sun, o’er all
He will the castle win,
And shine along the wall.

There’s nothing in the world I know
That can escape from love,
For every depth it goes below,
And every height above.
It waits, as waits the sky,
Until the clouds go by,
Yet shines serenely on
With an eternal day,
Alike when they are gone,
And when they stay.

Implacable is Love–
Foes may be bought or teased
From their hostile intent,
But he goes unappeased
Who is on kindness bent.

— Henry David Thoreau

3. Hate Is Only One Of Many Responses

Hate is only one of many responses
true, hurt and hate go hand in hand
but why be afraid of hate, it is only there

think of filth, is it really awesome
neither is hate
don’t be shy of unkindness, either
it’s cleansing and allows you to be direct
like an arrow that feels something

out and out meanness, too, lets love breathe
you don’t have to fight off getting in too deep
you can always get out if you’re not too scared

an ounce of prevention’s
足够的毒药the heart
don’t think of others
until you have thought of yourself, are true

all of these things, if you feel them
will be graced by a certain reluctance
and turn into gold

if felt by me, will be smilingly deflected
by your mysterious concern.

— Frank O’Hara

4. Hate

I had a bitter enemy,
His heart to hate he gave,
And when I died he swore that he
Would dance upon my grave;
That he would leap and laugh because
A livid corpse was I,
And that’s the reason why I was
In no great haste to die.

And then – such is the quirk of fate,
One day with joy I read,
Despite his vitalizing hate
我的敌人已经死了。
Maybe the poison in his heart
Had helped to haste his doom:
He was not spared till I depart
To spit upon my tomb.

The other day I chanced to go
To where he lies alone.
‘Tis easy to forgive a foe
When he is dead and gone. . . .
可怜的魔鬼!现在his day is done,
(Though bright it was and brave,)
Yet I am happy there is none
To dance upon my grave.

— Robert William Service

5. Sonnet Xlviii: Cupid, I Hate Thee

Cupid, I hate thee, which I’d have thee know;
A naked starveling ever may’st thou be.
Poor rogue, go pawn thy fascia and thy bow
因为一些破布、支付你。
Or, if thou’lt not, thy archery forbear,
To some base rustic do thyself prefer,
And when corn’s sown or grown into the ear,
Practise thy quiver and turn crow-keeper.
或者,被blind, as fittest for the trade,
Go hire thyself some bungling harper’s boy;
They that are blind are often minstrels made;
So may’st thou live, to thy fair mother’s joy,
That whilst with Mars she holdeth her old way,
Thou, her blind son, may’st sit by them and play.

— Michael Drayton

6. Wrath And Rain

I woke up angry today
The taste of blood bitter and sweet
Clinging in the curves in my mouth
My teeth had split my lip in sleep
Through the window the sky is threatening to rain
My hand curl into fists, my nails digging into my palm
The chains of hatred creep and tighten around my throat
Around my wrists, simply all around me
The pain in this body is like a whip hitting
The monster that lives inside my soul
Splitting its skin and bringing it to the surface
I have to breath, I have to calm down
Outside the rain starts to fall in a Seattle mist
Building up in its own expression of mania
Turning into a hail storm that beats the house
I fall to my knees and scream in fury
Beating my fists against the floor in a frenzied rage
The hits barely audible above the scream of hail
I can’t fucking fight a sickness I cannot name
Each hit to the floor I wish for my fist to break
Begging for a physical injury instead of this weakness
That the bones in my hand would shatter
There is no enemy but this body of mine
No one to hurt but myself in this situation
No outside threat, just the family curse in my veins
There is nothing I can do and I fall back against the wall
Sobbing in sharp bitterness unable to breathe
The tears cut lines as they slide down my face
The bruises slowly blooming across my knuckles
Nothing will ever put out the wrath that lives in me
And death is but a coward for this approach
Maybe when this is all over the creature that made me
Will finally meet the wretched being they created
And when they do I hope I get to punch them

— BlueBeastGirl

7. Hate Poem

I hate you truly. Truly I do.
Everything about me hates everything about you.
The flick of my wrist hates you.
The way I hold my pencil hates you.
The sound made by my tiniest bones were they trapped in the jaws of a moray eel hates you.
Each corpuscle singing in its capillary hates you.

Look out! Fore! I hate you.

The little blue-green speck of sock lint I’m trying to dig from under my third toenail, left foot, hates you.
The history of this keychain hates you.
My sigh in the background as you pick out the cashews hates you.
The goldfish of my genius hates you.
My aorta hates you. Also my ancestors.

A closed window is both a closed window and an obvious symbol of how I hate you.

My voice curt as a hairshirt: hate.
My hesitation when you invite me for a drive: hate.
My pleasant “good morning”: hate.
You know how when I’m sleepy I nuzzle my head under your arm? Hate.

The whites of my target-eyes articulate hate. My wit practices it.
My breasts relaxing in their holster from morning to night hate you.
Layers of hate, a parfait.
Hours after our latest row, brandishing the sharp glee of hate,
I dissect you cell by cell, so that I might hate each one individually and at leisure.
My lungs, duplicitous twins, expand with the utter validity of my hate, which can never have enough of you,
Breathlessly, like two idealists in a broken submarine.

— Julie Sheehan

8. The Hate That I Hate

I hate the hate that resides in me now

I hate the hate that is so heavy it weighs me down
I hate the hate that keeps my emotions tightly wound

I hate the hate that charges my wall
I hate the hate that lies to strengthen my fall

I hate the hate that has me in chains
I hate the hate that courses through my veins

I hate the hate that is a shadow at my side
I hate the hate that has stolen my mind

I hate the hate that blinds me from the stars
I hate the hate that has created my war

I hate the hate that has stolen my grace

My scarlet letter written all over my face

——Adalie Hettie

9. I Hate

I hate,
hate that I can’t trust
I hate,
hate that I must lie because they’d rather believe I’m fine.

I hate,
hate who I’ve been.
I hate,
hate to make decisions.

I hate,
hate that I can’t hate those I should.
I hate,
hate my life.

I hate,
hate that I can’t die.
I hate,
hate to live in fear and hate.

I hate,
hate my uncertainty.
I hate,
hate the lies people tell me.

I hate,
hate that I believe.
I hate,
hate those that wish their lives were mine.

I hate,
hate all emotion that’s mine.
I hate,
hate that I need others.

I hate,
hate my own d*mn incompetence.
I hate,
hate that there’s so much to hate.

— Dama Tristeza

10. Love To Hate And Hate To Love

Am I sick cos I hate to hate you,
You made me hate you,
Let myself hate you,
When it’s all your fault,
…Cos you made me love you,
Yeah you made me hate to love you,
现在I hate myself.
So twist through time,
If you ever look back…
Admit you used me like the other damn Jacks!
So all that time you were lying?
All that time I was a fool?
现在this time I lay dying,
Drowning in this apathy pool,
These salted tears the gullable shed,
Well I’ve shed mine,
With guilt and dread,
Hear the voices,
Conscience in my head,
现在I can’t trust it,
My conscience’s dead.
Bittersweet, bitterweet tears run down,
All that time, I choked, I drowned,
I bled these thoughts again and again,
In my mind again, and again…

克拉克-安妮塔

Short Poems About Hate

Short and pithy, these poems lay the heart bare with few words. When the emotion is strong enough and the words are chosen right, where is the need for extravagance?

11. Hate Is…

Hate is a feeling that boils with rage.
Hate is a feeling you lose with age.
Hate is a feeling that eats inside.
Hate is a feeling we all should hide.
Hate is the feeling we dont understand.
Hate is the feeling of losing our stand.
Hate is the feeling of a thing called fear.
Hate is the feeling that hurts in here.
Hate is a feeling that grows some more.
恨是一种感觉,它有什么好处?
Hate is a feeling that you have too.
Hate is a feeling I have for you.

— Kev Elmer

12. I Hate It

I hate it when u look at me
I hate it when u smile ur smile
I hate it when u say hi 2 me and wave
I hate it when u think u noe everything
I hate it when ur with ur friends
and not me
I hate it when u don’t say hi
I don’t hate u
I just realized that I love u
I just hate it when u don’t do these things 2 me
I hate it when ur not around
I hate u
but I love u at the same time.

— Justine Ahumada

13. To One Hated

Had it been when I came to the valley where the paths parted asunder,
Chance had led my feet to the way of love, not hate,
I might have cherished you well, have been to you fond andfaithful,
Great as my hatred is, so might my love have been great.

Each cold word of mine might have been a kiss impassioned,
Warm with the throb of my heart, thrilled with my pulse’s leap,
And every glance of scorn, lashing, pursuing, and stinging,
As a look of tenderness would have been wondrous and deep.

Bitter our hatred is, old and strong and unchanging,
Twined with the fibres of life, blent with body and soul,
But as its bitterness, so might have been our love’s sweetness
Had it not missed the waystrange missing and sad!to its goal.

— Lucy Maud Montgomery

14. I Hate Myself For This

I hate this person I’ve become
I hate who I am and who I thought I would never be
I hate my father for making me this way
I hatethe selfishness I have now become
I hate the endless pain I put people through
I hate the way I hide myself in this pain
I hate the crazy world I’m living in called my life
I hate when my friends suffer because of my problems
我讨厌我工作这一事实
so hard not to be is what defines me
I hate that people cant see who I really am
I hate that my heart isbrokenwith no one to put it back together
Stay out of my life.

— Anonymous

15. 2Morrow

Today is filled with anger
fueled with hidden hate
scared of being outcast
afraid of common fate
Today is built on tragedies
which no one wants 2 face
nightmares 2 humanities
and morally disgraced
Tonight is filled with rage
violence in the air
children bred with ruthlessness
because no one at home cares
Tonight I lay my head down
but the pressure never stops
gnawing at my sanity
content when I am dropped
But 2morrow I c change
a chance 2 build a new
Built on spirit intent of Heart
and ideals
based on truth
and tomorrow I wake with second wind
and strong because of pride
2 know I fought with all my heart 2 keep my
dream alive.

— Emily Bronte

16. I Love Hate

Ilove hate; it’s plain to see
It fills the hearts of my enemies
It sucks out the life and joy from their souls
And where happiness was, it leaves a large hole
They like to spread rumors and go off on a rant
But ask’em for a reason, You Know! They just can’t
You see, Hate is just darkness, a disease of the mind
It soon affects everything; you’ll find it time
The way you talk to others, the expression on your face
You tend to lose compassion and be void of all grace
It just makes more enemies and never a friend
And when it’s all over, you’ll feel empty in the end
So I leave all the hate to those who revel in it
And get on with my life, Loving every minute

— JT Curtis

17. Hate

A choke on the river of joy
A berg in the sea of happiness
Hail in a shower of affection
Hurtling and hurting the heart

A feeling of utter loath
A taste of bile in the mouth
Fanned fires of internal malevolence
Flaming brands spewing black

An emotional roar of indignation
A mental synapse of misery
Bloody crucible of anger
Bleeding profuse profanities

An antithesis to all things lovable
Anticlimax to lovely pleasantries
Mercurial effort dislodging fun
Mindboggling evil splash
Vile!

— Gidraf Mwangi

18. Starved to Death

Therelationshiphas starved to death
It’s finally breathed its very last breath
一年一个fter year of waiting and hoping
Trying to find a new way of coping
Looking for promise and wanting to see
A glimmer of hope appear to me
We touched up the makeup on the deceased
The cold stiff body, its soul now released
The body was once a warm living thing
A vessel from which all hope did spring
Beaten and battered by lie after lie
Starved and neglected left out to die
It should have grown strong
And lasted so long
But cruel fate and uncaring hearts
Shredded and broke it to many small parts
The dead will be mourned and soon forgotten
The killers walk not knowing how wanton
Their hearts really are or what else has died
Dead is their love and dead they are inside

— Don Bower

19. Sonnet 142: Love Is My Sin, And Thy Dear Virtue Hate

Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate,
Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving,
O, but with mine, compare thou thine own state,
And thou shalt find it merits not reproving,
Or if it do, not from those lips of thine
That have profaned their scarlet ornaments
And sealed false bonds of love as oft as mine,
Robbed others’ beds’ revenues of their rents.
Be it lawful I love thee as thou lov’st those
Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee.
Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows
Thy pity may deserve to pitied be.
If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide,
By self-example mayst thou be denied!

— William Shakespeare

20.我没有时间去恨,因为……

I had no time to hate, because
The grave would hinder me,
And life was not so ample I
Could finish enmity.

Nor had I time to love, but since
Some industry must be,
The little toil of love, I thought,
Was large enough for me.

— Emily Dickinson