Like A Girl
I play like a girl, I hit like a girl
You say I throw like a girl,
And, when I run -- I run like a girl!
All that plus more, enjoy this one size fits all
Who and what I want comes from being strong
Classy and fabulous,
THIS is my song!
I've been told, cut to size
The world dark and gray, when life becomes an insult
Take heed when I speak my mind,
I am tough, outstanding and beautiful!
Move ahead --- say it twice, I smell nice
A taste of Cool Water and Justice Perfume
I have a non-stop multitask fixation
Like a woman, everything about me is hidden
Magic and alluring the only joy in sexuality you'll need
I'm empowering this moment!
Endorsing Myself, with a certain sorta mystique
I deliver an independent will,
don't ever underestimate my physique
I am a caregiver, a female who won't give up the fight
I remain firm and believe all women have equal rights
I walk and talk Like A girl
wearing heels Breaking the sound of Annabel
Like, Mona's unforgettable smile,
I stand tall Like Miss Liberty
I am, Betsy Ross, America's #1 designer
Harriet, who escaped slaver-y
Like Theresa and Mary, I'm here to give change
I am, Hilary overwhelmed with determination
A leader -- A Goddess, I burn like Joan
---Cleopatra in the room
---Calamity Jane's wild side
Emelia's, won't give up heart
I am Anne, with a secret hidden spot
Susan B, with the right to vote
Emily who writes deep and pretty
The sound In your eyes aren't listening!
You imagine I am weak -- not strong enough -- brave enough,
You call me different and difficult!
Still, you want my warmth -- my love -- my attention
I am not less, I am more
I am a woman -- I frown -- I cry -- I hurt and yell at the universe
Nevertheless, I make a difference
Like a girl, I smile
A smile never seen or felt before, both defined and undefined
Your heart will ask and implore for more
Like a girl, I'll drive you wild, looking pretty "You're In Love!"
My Self confidence comes from who I am deep inside
Everything I've become follows the makeup on my face
Bare and nude, I am the Madonna flowering the mood
At the end of every day, I have one other thing to say
The Next Time You ask me to cook and clean
Because you think, I belong in the kitchen
You better believe I'm doing it my way
LIKE A GIRL
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015
I wish to claim
My yesterday sillyness
My crinkled nose grininess
That hide and seekiness
Spin the bottle
kind of geekiness
My hand in the cookie jarness
That pushing too farness
Collecting comic charminess
Hidden playboy kinda business
Cop a feel inquisitiveness
Being a bit
A true life witness
Loving the mysterious
Laughing more than being serious
What it was all aboutness
Thinking that it lead to freeness
I'd know just how to be ness
Eating what I want
Staying up late kinda keeness
Now I wonder
What was the rushness
To reach adultness
Full of it's doubtiness
What's it all aboutness
I witness it's dreamlessness
It's no longer about me-ness
To much sane-ness
Routine and sameness
No one cares if you cameness
Less is less
And more is moreness
Can't see the trees
Through the dark forest
So grab onto your girliness
I'll bring my boyness
There will be more
No more boringness
We'll spin in circles
Enjoy our dizziness
Is a serious business!
I wrote this one in December 2014.
I am now proud to enter it into Shadow's contest.
I hope you have as much fun reading as I had writing it.
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014
This girl, she's crying inside,
But all everyone sees is smiles,
This girl, she's hurting inside,
She's lived like this for quite a while,
Always holding her pain inside,
She won't ruin everyone's time,
This girl, she's breaking down inside,
But all she does is smile,
Those deep eyes,
Hold a lot world of misery,
Playing pictures from her mind,
Showing her past, her history,
She doesn't want to remember,
But the memories continue to play,
Every night she prays,
Wishing them away,
But this girl lies with her laugh,
And hides behind a mask,
So that no-one can see her pain,
Her past, her denials,
This girl, she's dying inside,
Although no-one can see her pain,
She just continues to smile bright,
From day to everyday,
With beautiful lying eyes,
For everyone to see,
Everyone and anyone,
Everyone but me.
Copyright © Loretta Bailey | Year Posted 2011
You Will Always Be That Little Girl To Me - collaboration with Silent One
I can still remember the day you were born,
now you think you are all grown, but you'll always be that little girl to me.
I can still remember those innocent little eyes
and the first time you smiled,
all those late nights spent by your side
those little secrets, in me you did confide.
I can still remember your first day of school
that feeling, my little girl was growing up way too soon
but to you, it was everything, you were so cool.
I can still remember wanting to cry, because you'll always be that little girl to me.
I can still remember pushing you on the swings, higher and higher,
until you told me you can do it by yourself, you're a big girl now.
I remember that first crush you had on a boy
when I asked why, you said "he reminded me of you."
My little girl, you can't imagine how much I love you
I should have realized it back then,
realized what a fine young lady you had become,
I must admit a little part of me never wanted you to grow,
a little part wanted to hold you close, never to let you go.
I know you'll hurt me with goodbye, but you'll always be that little girl to me.
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015
Blades of grass, wet under foot, insect eyes
Dusk, offset by the cricket orchestra
Muted and receding into the trees and bushes,
Tickled by the wind, rattling snake tail wind
While we may be in the company of wolves,
A long legged friend is late for the party
Eyes, little iridescent stars
Attending to each one, and look there,
There she is, making the most beautiful geometry
Parallels within the octagons, pulling silks
An arm for every task, little perpetual motion machine
Is that the Queen of the Night under the rusted iron?
A forlorn lady, black patent leather, kill a man, maybe two
With her danger red symmetry, oozing with youth
And a penchant for paralysis, no one can resist her wine
Then there's the hall of cob webs, threadbare handkerchiefs
Left by ladies who exhausted all of their company
To be a spectacle under the moon, in the wood pile
Dressed up in the finest furs, all earth tones
Stepping out to introduce themselves in girlish droves
Venus of another sort, these little cursed jezebels
Hovering on the skin of the water, or on the red brick wall
Must frequent every happy corner, and slip away at a moment's notice
A real lady always knows when to say goodnight
Such graceful exits through cement cracks
Back to the parlor, to glow in the dark
And they become spiders again
Copyright © Jeremy Martin | Year Posted 2013
When I was a child I only ever wanted to be strong.
I wanted to be able to compete with the boys
and when I foot raced them at recess I won every time.
They called me ‘She Hulk’ because of my muscular frame
and from the way I only ever wore soccer t-shirts and sweat pants.
After that nickname was implanted into my brain like a growing weed,
I’ve only ever wanted to be feminine.
I started wearing skirts and dresses
and in middle school they shrieked at the site of my makeup and done up hair.
But that weed inside of my mind only grew, and grew, and grew
until I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part anorexic and two parts lonely,
because I thought that the definition of feminine began with the word frail.
No one ever realizes how greatly words affect us,
how a simple nickname can turn a pretty girl into a skeleton.
I stood at five foot two weighing seventy nine pounds,
so cold and frozen,
yet I still considered myself a ‘She Hulk.’
You could see my ribcage through my t-shirt
and my spinal cord protruded loudly through my weathered skin,
as if somehow my bones were dirty knives
just trying to cut through the flesh of judgment.
As I grew older I became the girl that was never enough.
Not good enough to speak poetry.
Not good enough to lay paint on a canvas.
Not good enough.
Not tall enough.
Not big enough boobs for them.
Not primped to perfection.
Not undeniably straight.
Not smart enough.
Not dumb enough.
Not ditsy enough.
Not cool enough or fun enough.
And I began to believe, too, that I wasn’t enough.
I never told my mother that I had been in madly in love with a girl.
I never told anyone about the night we first kissed
because I was too vulnerable for the judgment.
And parents always justify saying that ‘kids will be kids’
But when we are kids our brains are still growing
and the smallest of seeds that get planted will one day bloom
into one giant regret,
will one day affect the choices that we make,
will one day influence us about the clothes that we wear,
will one day shape us into the person who we thought we would never be.
I only ever wanted to be strong,
and as a child I thought strength was only about being able
to lift a bar stool above your head.
I thought that strength was only about being able
to beat the boys in bare foot running races.
I was told that strength was something only
a man could have.
But as I’ve grown older I’ve realized that strength
isn’t about muscle at all,
but it’s about weakness,
and the ability to overcome the social anxiousness.
It’s about carrying around a lifetime of baggage
on your broken back
because the ones that kicked you when you were down
are going to be the ones that were ultimately wrong.
I thought that the definition of woman
began with the word disappointment.
And I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part freedom
and two parts Sailor Jerry
because every girl needs a stiff drink once and awhile.
We are not disappointments.
We will never be the ones who gave up on hope.
We will never be the ones who gave up on each other,
or our mothers.
We will always be enough;
enough for the ones who shunned us
enough for the ones that cursed us
enough for the ones the hurt us
and destroyed us
and beat us when we were covered in bruises.
But you see, bruises fade
and the scars of our flesh are only stories
things we have overcame
and there are things out there that we will overcome.
When I was a child, I only ever wanted to be strong.
I hid my vulnerability.
I hid the parts of me that were true.
I never told my mother about my girlfriend
because I was afraid she wouldn’t understand,
kind of like all those people who never understood
just how much words effect us.
I can’t say that I can beat the boys at foot races anymore,
because, well, I smoke cigarettes now.
And I can’t say that the nickname of my childhood didn’t affect me.
But I take that name now and embrace it.
Because I am strong.
I am the ‘she hulk’.
I am a mixed drink cocktail
with three parts greatful.
Copyright © Katie Pukash | Year Posted 2013
I don't have nothing really to post right now
However, I will read your poems first,
In hopes inspiration follows and falls into place
Please do not think I'm here to drop a bomb
It's just a fair warning on how, I'm here
"To Rock Your World"
Allow me kindly to introduce myself,
I'm as Sweet as they come
I'm not the enemy, but a poet friend
In time you will see, and hunger my name
I'm not new to any poetry world
In time you will notice I am not your average girl
I will play fair, If you do
I'll be true to you, if you are true
I'm not here to judge what I can't see
However, I will reply and enjoy the imagery
This Destroyer is not like a lawyer
However, mess with me or my sis
I'll chew you out like the D.E.A.
I'll mess with your mind
A brain storm cleaning you from bottom to top
I am the POET DESTROYER
Admiring those who love the world of wordplay
Today, I will end my WORDS
With the quote I've always wanted to say
"I am no poet!"
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010
She painted her emotions with a dark brush
My heart sunk into her canvas
Transported to an endless sadness
She greets me there with a smile
Her light not visable from the other side
"Come" she says
"There are many rooms to explore"
She skips along yesterday's corridors
I follow in tentative foot falls
She looks back, "Here it is, this is where we'll begin."
Through the door we go in
In an instant she disappears
I wonder was she ever here
Then a silent voice whispers in my ear
"Watch and listen, all will unfold"
I watch in silence, my heart feels cold
A mother in a hospital bed
Two baby girls
One of them dead
Tears of joy now sad instead
She whispers "do you see?? Happy Birthday, little me."
I hear her giggle in another room
So I walk through another door,
a toddler alone on the floor
Mom sitting, at a table with a drink
Little girl starts crying
Mom doesn't even blink
The scene changes
A parade of men
Mom needs her lovers
Over and over again
In the night
When mom's asleep
Into the girls room, the demons creep
On the bed, there she lays
She leaves her mind
While the bad man plays
I want him to stop
Her so helpless
Him there on top
The whisper returns "There is nothing to do,
I want you to know the source of my blue."
I say "please I can take no more"
With that she says "there is just one more door."
She is back, she takes my hand
I walk through a door to her promised land
The darkness, is all stripped away
She is young once more, it's bright as day
She turns and smiles, " I'm okay,
long ago I learned to pray."
I said "I do not understand,
how could he let that happen to you?
Is he not to blame for your world of blue?"
She looks again with knowing smile
"You will understand in a while.
One day all anwers he will reveal,
best understood when you learn to kneel."
From her canvas
My mind wishes release
Flowing into my heart, an ancient peace
On humbled footsteps, my journey within
A world of shadows, canvas thin
I see beyond sadness
I search within
This dark picture,
brushed stroked on my mind
Her life touched by sin,
Is now redefined
No longer is she broken
I watch her light grow
She says "I'm okay,
it's time for you to go."
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014
As light leaves us,
the truth is unveiled.
A girl lies with sorrows unscaled.
To wither and die,
without hope on her side.
She can no longer see a light,
to guide her through those forsaken nights.
She waits for a sign,
that all will come in line.
She is in pain,
with no one to help, all efforts sought in vain.
When will the girl see,
there are others like she.
Others share her pain,
others like me.
Her light once pierced through the shadows,
it was a beacon through the night.
Now it is only a dying flame,
leaving the world to darkness,
cowering in shame.
A girl lies dying in her pain.
Copyright © Dani Doz | Year Posted 2009
I wish I could blow air into your little lungs,
The day my daughter brought your stillborn body into this world.
Hold your little body warm,
And tell my little girl you have her cute little nose....
Count your little fingers, and kiss your little toes....
I could look into your daring eyes,
Facing a little boy, who's ready for this world
I could tell my daughter you have her beautiful brown eyes...
Sadly, it’s not like that.
How can I tell my daughter everything will be all right?
When a piece of my heart was stolen with her's,
When giving birth to her son, my grandson
March 25, 2013---- How it Hurts!
O’ how I wish, you entered this world crying
Instead, we're the ones left in tears of sorrow
How I wish you could be,
And not this feeling you left inside
How I wish, God could explain why o' why o' why?
I wish I could find the reasons now, and not wait until I die.
Mostly, I WISH Mommy could fix this.
Bael Lesley G.
Born March 25, 2013
RIP March 25, 2013
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
$hawty Got $wag
Shawty got swag,
Shawty mad dope.
Face all cheesin’,
She real turned up.
Goin’ to da club,
She steppin' wit her peeps,
Lookin’ so ratchet,
She’s straight up hoochie.
No racks in her pocket,
No stacks in her wallet,
But she all into bubbly
Slurpin’ and burpin’.
Lookin for a big baller,
Who’ll give her wat she wants,
Wildin’ on the dance floor,
Tweakin’ an’ freakin’,
Shawty actin' so cra cra!
She just like da rest a dem,
But Shawty real fly,
Sure likes a lotta ice,
Bling bling, and Benjamins.
Shawty creepin’ to hook up
Coz she needs a boo wit finesse,
Who’ll give her Yves St. Laurent,
5-star hotels, and 5-star restaurants.
Shawty off the chain,
Shawty off the hook,
She got game and she’s aight!
Shawty da bomb - fuh real!!!
Entered in contest “Ebonics – Let’s Do Some Slang" sponsored by Verlena S.
Some Terms and Definitions:
shawty – a young attractive female; dope – cool, nice, awesome; swag – style;
turn up – excited; mad – really a lot; peeps – friends, close pals; baller – a
thug that made it in the big time; racks/stacks– lots of money; aight – alright;
wildin’– to go crazy, acting out of control; cra cra – crazy; tweakin’/freakin’ –
dancing provocatively and moving around out of control; cheesin’ – smiling;
finesse – man who has swag and can spend a huge amount of money; ratchet
– ghetto diva; creepin’ – sneaking about; bubbly – champagne; bling bling –
expensive flashy jewelry; Benjamins – hundred dollar bills; boo – one’s lover;
da bomb – the best of the best; game – skills; ice – expensive flashy jewelry
usually diamonds or jewelry with diamonds; off the chain/off the hook –
excellent, fantastic, awesome; fly – cool, in style; hook up – getting together
with someone romantically; hoochie – a female who dresses trashy; straight up
– absolutely, really.
Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2014
If I had been born a girl
I wonder what would rock my world
I really have to stop and think
I guess I’d have to start liking pink
One thing I know that would be really great
I know I’d never make a single mistake
I could change my mind all of the time
Oh wait a minute … no I wouldn’t
Well yeah, I guess I would
Yeah, I would change my mind all the time
Naw, that wouldn’t be fair to my guy
Ahh – who cares … surely not I
I suppose I would have to get used to carrying a purse
Of course, there are other things to get used to a whole lot worse
I wouldn’t have to shave my face …
But I would have to shave almost every other place
If I were to be a girl
I don’t think I would be one of those liberated kind
Treat me like a delicate flower
I really would not even mind
I guess I couldn’t burp and fart in public
That would really cramp my style
And I know I couldn’t walk in high heels
Not even for one tenth of a mile
And one thing I know for sure,
I would be the ugliest girl under the sky …
No – I think I’ll just scratch and spit
And thank God I was born a guy
Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2012
Heated these shores, whereupon passion bears her grip...
A lady in love with another woman, and how can she deny this
Stirring deep inside racing through her veins the rapture, of her heart.
Copyright © Rachel St.Cross | Year Posted 2013
the smell of Carmel corn
fills the air – I think of you Dad
your hand in mine, four steps to your one
the carousel music scores happiness
bells of laughter ting-a-ling-ing
Cotton candy, pink as bazooka bubble gum,
melts to sugary paste on teeth and tongue
you are there Dad, hanky in hand
spit bathing my four year old cheeks
moon-faced, eyes crinkled
lifted skyward as the horses stop
I pick the girlie one but sit straddled
you pinch my knees and pull down my skirt
muscle man strong -- your hands strap me in
they rest after on the small of my back as I rise
then I come [the brass pole all gummy
from my hands]
last week we walked the country fair
my hand now as big as yours
aged like two apple dolls, we meander
you buy me cotton candy
spit on your thumb and wipe
it from my cheek
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2014
i know a young girl
lives just up da ill
she a black an white child
she got uge black eyes
wit lots of white surrounden dem
an' she got tick black air
an' er skin's a lonely gray
she got big plump lips
no man ever touched
cause she still jus' a child
an' dat girl she wear
a sweater white
'er mom made er
da black 'n white girl
live just up the ill from me
even er ome is black 'n white
man dat girl
she don't show color no ow
dat girl in black 'n white
all black 'n white
till she bring out er violin
er full colored playin' instrumen
dat ting got chromaticity
dat wat I said
dat der's wat dat violin got
wen she play dat ting
everytin goes bright
whoa dem strings dey speak
whoa dem strings dey sing
den dat violin color er world
dat wat make 'er special
you got to see er
when she hug dat ting
when she make it sing
an' da world she is peace
wen da black 'n white girl
play er colored violin
dat wat dat girl got
wen she play so sweet
wit the violin to er ear
an' da traffic stops
an' da crowds don talk
wen da girl in black 'n white
wen dat girl she paint da town
make dat violin talk
charmin' all da ears
ow she do dat
make notes dance in the sky
ow she do dat
soothes the savage beast
ow she soothe my ears
ow she make docile dis devil me
i don wanna do bad
wen dat violin sings
ow she do dat
dat girl wit dose
Sponsor: Mystic Rose
Contest Name: Let The Music Play On
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
See this girl in the painting, this skinny girl
working on a puzzle at the bottom of the stairs.
With big rimmed glasses and her plain brown hair,
she’s an ordinary girl, with nothing seeming special.
Now see this girl. . . really SEE this girl.
At age 12, she’s just been fitted with new glasses -
They are black horn-rimmed - an utter disappointment
in the life of a young girl.
Some guys now call her four-eyes, and they don’t even notice
the beauty of her light green eyes and
long lush lashes behind those big-framed glasses.
But still she likes to fantasize, and in her dreams
she’s idolized by every boy she likes.
Always having wanted to be part of the “in” crowd,
she was a girl that struggled for popularity.
However, she’s been learning of another way to be!
Seeking out girls more like her, she hardly has to try
to fit in with her new friends. And now she’s much less shy.
With fun new friends, she is witty. She makes them laugh.
She’s even feeling pretty, wearing lipstick frosty pink.
She’s discovered she is smart in all her classes.
This girl who now is wearing black rimmed glasses!
She gets into the Glee Club, even sings on PBS!
With her athleticism, she also has success.
She makes Top Twelve in tryouts for cheerleading.
And though the student body does not vote her through,
she’ll soon get over it. She’s blossoming!
The glasses she will change for contact lenses,
and she does not know it yet,
but soon enough - a number of boyfriends she will get!
Also years of dance lessons and being in recitals
has boosted her self confidence.
Both her body and her spirit are transforming!
See the girl in the painting; a puzzle she assembles.
She does not know that one day
her mind will be on puzzles of a very different kind:
She will be assembling many words inside her mind,
and she will be partaking in an art called poetry.
I know all this because
the girl inside that painting - that ordinary girl -
is the one I used to be.
Based on the painting "Assembling the Pieces"
from Contemporary Figurative Artiste Stephanie Deshpande
for the Contemporary Free Rhyme Contest of Cyndi MacMillan
I hope you will see the painting at this link. When I saw the girl, I was
struck by how much it looked like me as a young girl: http://www.stephaniedeshpande.com/porfolio/
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014
Today I present an old poem, written at least a decade before "Doubts". What this poem lacks in poetic format, and style, it reaps in sentiment.
the Girl Who Ate the National Park
I was picking apples, from polystyrene
boxes, when she held aloft a spiky
green football and her excited voice
asked, “What do you call this?”
She named it durian. I didn’t know,
and pulled a lettuce from its packing.
Harvested multigrain rolls
from bakery bins, and hunted
sandwich ham from fridges.
I laid our picnic mat down
amongst market gardens, and planted myself
to grow in her company. Uncorked
a shiraz in a vineyard, and savoured
her smile. Pulled an apricot from the cooler,
in an orchard, and hungrily
consumed her words.
She took to the park's paths
like shopping aisles. Selecting ingredients
for a salad from green foliage shelves.
She chose a duck dish
as it flew above us, and decided on a fish,
as we watched it swim
beneath the waterfall.
Then as we left, she created a desert
from the trees.
Her touch stopped me. Rooted
me to the spot, where we ravenously
embraced. Our feelings blossoming
around us. Forming a canopy
which we took shelter under,
and bore fruit, that we ate together.
Our appetites sated.
Copyright © scott thirtyseven | Year Posted 2014
The sweet songs of birds,
We hand in hand across the
Pansies white yellow and violet
Tossing their heads in the
Somewhere the sound of falling
The sound of squirrel cracking
Calm weather warm sun,
White fluffy clouds forming
A passenger flight in the blue
Sun born in the horizon and
about to fade in the horizon,
Both our heartbeats echo
inside of chest,
Shutting and opening of our
Your unkempt hair flying
Yellowish west sky.
Heart shaped fig leaf's shadow.
If I could stop this world from
I would do so,
Just to be with you
In this autumn evening.
Copyright © Kiran Bantawa | Year Posted 2013
Summer's surf rising from ivory tides be her light...
Reflecting from an hourglass these prisms she sways
Breaking waves their eyes conversations ladies they gaze.
Copyright © Rachel St.Cross | Year Posted 2013
He never had the luck
nor the down of an evanescent duck,
in this world where the dice is thrown
just another gamble which side of the track.
In his mission statement, he declares
is my love wasted?
A love never returned
yet oh so tired of giving,
in this his life down half way lane
where constantly with love he finds a “Cul de Sac”
his groundhog day,
oh where the embarrassment is just too much.
So life you’re a b*t*h
casting each day unjust spells this condescending witch,
on the net he tried oh God for years, tried
to workout the plot
but i’m no porno star, he says
well hung i am, not.
So to you, my fair lady, keep your glow on
I’m looking forward to this our first date,
although history reveals, i’ll come across like a fly in your soup
restricted there, where i cannot swim,
hoping it will not be a disaster,
just, another plunge into love
what is your name, i declare my ignorance
Fate she says, and i am aware of your plight
there is some one for every one
i am here to guide your way into love!
© Harry J Horsman 2013
Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2013
Here I lie beside you
My heart goes thump.thump.thump.
My soul dances inside you
Reveling in the texture of your own.
Electric and flowing
The currents of our love
Glow like neon lights
Illuminating the hope in my eyes.
Though we're not moving
I feel so incredibly alive
Invincible to my past
Untouchable by all who lack
That gentle touch of when
You lean in and brush my face
Your lips grazing my skin
Softer than a butterfly.
And then you gaze into my eyes
I fall into your depths
Twirling like the autumn leaves
Melting into your smile
Your soul reminiscent of summer.
You pull me into your arms
And for a moment I'm lost
Breathless and in awe
Staring in the face of pure exquisite love
And there you are - holding it
Glowing in the moonlight of my stare.
My heart beats - its drum pounding away
Echoing a song thats lost its words
I touch your cheek and smile
My hands cant stay away
My lips s l o w l y, draw near yours
Hovering, and then -
Part, a soft warmth against them.
My eye lids pulling shut
Dragging me into a silent heaven
I pull away - and what seemed millennia
Lasted only a moment, a second in time
But this is our love
This is what you do to me
You make me invincible and fragile
Lost forever in a beautiful reverie.
Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2013
She floats on the saffron shore
holding a bamboo basket.
Her heart beats
within the shelter
of peanut shells.
Toys and text books,
picnics and pamperings;
all collided on a wall,
but death dropped her
to be tossed.
The girl in a dirty frock –
she sells parched peanuts
for coins and eye-pricks.
‘Peanuts’, ‘Peanuts’ – her
withered call haunts
her parents in the grave.
Her pale figure walks away
with Time Teacher.
Fabiyas M V
Copyright © FABIYAS M V | Year Posted 2011
I will not be held down
I rise from the pit of ignorance
No longer silent
Stronger than you
I am what you fear
No longer will I be denied
Give me my education
Each day I will come to your door
Knocking till you answer
My time is now
You will not ignore me
I will be heard
I stand with my sisters
An immovable force
This is my time
You may shoot me
Place your foot upon my neck
Yet I will scream
Calling out for justice
I will not stop
My sisters will lift me up
I will spit in your face
My life is not yours to decide
Do not consider this veil as a sign of my weakness
It represents your own
You are no longer my master
Open the school doors
Welcome in all the children
We will be your strength
In the end you will thank us
You will praise God for wisdom
You will gain strength
The winds of change are good
If all are not free you live as a jailor
Brothers are coming to our rescue
Do not be found among the guilty
It is time for change
The time is now
Look up the Movie Trailer for "Girl Rising" the movie inspired my poem.
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013
I spread her wanting derriere as making love unto she..
Perfect sweetness; cumming, and all I could do was enjoy while
My heart raced to catch her haloes breath; sucking, her beautiful breast.
Copyright © Rachel St.Cross | Year Posted 2013
Blowing through a vast crevasse –
from whirling tempest;
to calming balm on wounded skin;
to constant howl;
to sunlit kiss, onto warm lips –
I am a promise,
to the girl who waits,
within the cave, where no light shines;
where sucking blackness and decay
consumes and claws across
the barren expanse that is –
My inner child’s mind.
Little Kristin, girl of 7
(when time stopped)
suspended upon a bony pillar, sits,
engulfed by craggy mountain walls –
The cave of sorrows.
A black pit surrounds the tower,
held hostage by those who would keep her silent;
(protecting the illusion at all costs)
and as silent as the fear that creeps up
the lone pillar,
(coming for the light in her eyes)
killing slowly, methodically,
attacking light –
the light that creeps through cracks;
breaks through holes;
breathes life into darkness –
(minions of death vying to stay her shine).
Her holly-hobby night gown
(full of broken dreams)
tattered and torn,
crowns her dirty little feet.
A grayed white gag, beneath soiled cheeks –
(like apples, they used to say)
blackened by yesterday,
save for the dappled light that shines,
from green eyes –
just a glimpse…
A tiny flame flickers, within small hands –
(holding what was stolen)
keeping the beasts at bay...
(lighting a Mother’s way)
They say I was everything to the one in the photographs –
The light giver.
Her battery drained,
(strength offered to the shining moon)
Eradicated, liberated (grace or fear?)
Strength was my gift born
from her weakness -
my birthright, and soul’s mantra.
My soul was God’s gift -
was her gift –
I am battery doubled.
No more am I dirty black holes
hiding in shadow,
For I am wind…
I am nowhere,
I am past, present and future.
My soul is freedom blowing through the cracks
left by the black maker (innocence taker);
into my darkest depths;
holding the little girl (lost, no more) –
kissing her face;
drying her tears;
leaving the cave -
carrying my child home.
Together we light
the ancient halls,
Where I am the light maker now.
Winding my way from heaven to
kissing the nose’s of my five reasons
My soul is wind
from the heaven’s,
and these are the gifts
that my soul
Copyright © Kristin Reynolds | Year Posted 2009
the ice cream truck
do you remember in fourth grade when it was the end of the school year?
kids running around in class, volunteer parents planning for field day events, teachers grading tests.
a year's worth of crafts and colorful displays filled the walls like wallpaper.
you can hear singing from the kids in room 4b, ms. mcdonald's class.
the weather outside was a balmy 80 on this june day.
text books, paint brushes, and the obligatory pre-chewed bubble gum filled the desk cavity.
the assistant principle announces something inaudible on the speaker system.
and we are fast approaching the anticipated summer break.
summer. that's when spring lovers finally kiss and the butterflies leave their cocoon.
birds singing and the flowers are saturated with their red, blue, and pink hues.
the last day of school is finally here and the children ride the bus for the last time.
vacations. swimming pools. ocean city. the smell of hot dogs, grass and humidity.
jersey summers are hot. really hot where i grew up. you sweat just by looking out the window.
then one day, the familiar sound of circus-like music faintly approaches town.
louder and louder until everyone knows its the ice cream truck turning the street corner.
the famous mr. softee, or good humor truck, or some local self employed bearded man.
whatever it was, ice cream in all kinds, flavors, colors, and shapes was 25 yards and 25 cents away.
the music kept playing as children seemingly sprayed out of their homes in rapid succession.
a gathering soon followed with parents and children standing all against that delicious truck.
chocolate. peanut butter. vanilla. strawberry. cookies and cream. cookie dough.
sandwiches. bowls. cones. smoothies. sundays. sprinkles. nuts. oh so yummy!
i miss that ice cream truck. i miss those days...
...and i miss you just as much.
Copyright © Joey Foto | Year Posted 2013
She held her mother’s hand
As tears made their way
Down the face called
“Exquisite, beautiful, charming”…
The face that had been her comfort
She could not absorb the pain in her words
If I could only feel a little of what my friends describe
That feeling of”…she sighed
They say it’s like…like…
The beating of a drum..faint at first and then
Beating louder and louder until…
Until you want to explode with the strength
of the vibrations
Tingling all over”…
She covered her face with her hands
“Instead…I try to imagine it as we lie together…
Hoping I can please, can satisfy…
Talking about private matters
Was difficult in her culture
Now, home on semester break
She heard her mother share
The horror of that night
When as a child they held her
Kicking and screaming
Exposing her most private parts
Cutting away the center of desire
The essence of her womanhood
That had been cloistered
In the folds of safety
She squeezed her mother’s hand
This woman whose every move
Made men stare
Exuding sexual charm
She was the epitome
Of every womanly grace….
Yet...unable to feel the fluttering
That some time ago
Had slowly awakened in her own frame
Her mother’s tears
Now fell from her own eyes
She bowed her head in shame
Wanting to blame
Her grandparents for following
The stupid traditions of their world…
Thinking it was best…
Her mother enfolded her in an embrace
And rocked her
It’s too late for tears now"…
“I’m so so sorry, Mama,” she whispered,
Her mother reached out to wipe her tears
“Feel sorry for your father
I see the pain in his eyes…
Knowing that I cannot feel what he feels…
Often, he won't approach me, but I entice him
I dance for him”…
She smiled…caressing a memory
“He stole my heart
The moment he looked at me with those eyes
How I wish he could see, the fire of his eyes
Burning in mine."
It that moment, it took shape
The career that had remained
Unborn…in the womb of her mind
She would be the voice…of every little girl
Who had ever screamed in pain...in shame
For the little girl her mother used to be
For all the others that were to come
So they wouldn't have to grow up
With eyes that reflected pain instead of passion
The pain she now witnessed
…in her mother’s eyes!
No, it was not too late to cry…
Her tears now would be tomorrow’s tears
Of some woman’s tender and sweet release
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013
Butterflies Are Free…
(For Karma Nurisha Wa Kupenda)
I touched a butterfly;
It flew away
Into the gentle breeze.
Through the prism of my tears,
Rainbows caressed the skies:
I miss you
The cocooned years.
Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2016
Gazing lovingly upon her velvets
Beautiful heart shaped glass
Searching about the vanity's
Disclosing drawer and a brush
Gliding it sensually through
Her cascadings golden hair
Mesmerized as joy fills my eyes
Once more; such beauty her light
Giggling while turning knowingly
Amid her silkened bareness
Cherries set in firm atop, soft
Voluptuous vanilla breast
Swaying gently fragrants perfect
Hourglass afore that my heart
Timeless this love's windless
Chills caressing my spirit
Left drifting inside these her
Spellbinding, oceans painted eyes.
Copyright © Rachel St.Cross | Year Posted 2013
Pigtails loosen yet messed,
twisted by pliant fingertips
of evening’s devilry…
fondling her budding breasts,
embers gleam from a lamplight, dim…
his jerked breathing quickens to rake
this young, tender flesh---
from pink , blood red, to pale yellow... vile!
Pulsing unto her cave,
the blister of muffled silence
grates adolescent wails,yet…
crazed feasting of desire remains.
She quivers under a toppled quilt
brushed in wounded cotton...vile!
And while darkness slides on metal frame,
he pumps, pumps with abandon,
grinning under a sinister moon
arsenic as the sweat of male hunger
plundering a girlish body... trembling, trembling
while her cupped mouth stutters,
‘Please daddy, no!’
‘Shh…dear baby, I am your angel,
guarding you from evil wolves.’…vile!
Quietly, he pins the knob of conquest
until the frail child's porcelain doll
splatters on the floor, and then…
Sponsor: Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015