Submit Poems
Get Your Premium Membership


CreationEarth Nature Photos

Free Verse Woman Poems | Free Verse Poems About Woman

These Free Verse Woman poems are examples of Free Verse poems about Woman. These are the best examples of Free Verse Woman poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Free verse | |

A beautiful mirror

-The escape of the mountain-

Do you care about my breast?
The new curve - countryside corset. 
The beauty of every summer dress 
Laying down, with gravity's caress
Embracing the same feeling; Your 
hands indulged in. Passionately 
devoted by the perfumed scenery.

Today we will pray,
Counting every second on the clock 
No longer the womanly figure before'
I will possess a new battle, 
around the virtues of my palace.
When the lump and hump are gone-
-will I still be the queen of your heart?

Impatiently I shall wait to gain the time,
Breast cancer stole - leaving behind 
Scarred tissue, with a daily reminder of;
The one that got away.

---note---
A Focus on Breast Cancer 

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

STILL WINTER

Dead Winter Stray~ By: Poet Destroyer

Nearby paces, Combatants lost under the cemetery walls,
“Blessed Men and Heavenly Remedy Women of Ages,”
Feelings of dance at the beginning of nightfall,
Scenery of fire, sadness passing this history page,
In that distant curve, somewhere nears the sundown stream.
Far away from the vision of mortal eyes,
A child plays as beautiful and pale like the sunrise.
She plays on the coast this beautiful but pale, sun raised child.
Pursuing nature, in a hushed angelic lucidity,
“In hushed angelic lucidity!”
Fragile fastened, to those adequate bones.
Profound deepness beneath the snow winder dust,
Below the memoirs of her floating vessel,
Reminisces of water drowning down rivers and streams,
A shattered female kneels in salvation.
An anvil so heavy it troubles the mind.
Lost in profoundness, in what might have been.
What was, for a moment in this period?
The grimness of her weak vessel dwells.
A lifeless winter strays around. 
An album so old and dusty,
A christening gown not ever embraced.
Infinite, the woman and pale child of sunrise,
Soften footfalls beating out the torments.
Countless nights seeing the day of unspoken headstones,
Feelings of dance will never rest this heartache.
Eternity, in a dance of unconditional need,
Their hearts unite as one...
A closing of mother and child…     
~BY: PD~

Dead Winter~ By: Catie Lindsey 

There walks Warriors in that graveyard,
Holy Men and Medicine Women of ages;
at night you can see their Spirits dance,
setting fire to history's pages.
In that far corner, up by the stream,
far from the eyes of publicity,
she plays on the shore, beautiful Raylene,
catching poly-wogs, in silent lucidity.
In silent lucidity.
Brittle now, those fine bones,
deep beneath the snow drifts of winter,
beneath the memories of her body afloat
down rivers and streams of Remember.
A broken woman kneels in prayer,
a heavy weight on a burdened mind,
somewhere deep in what could have been,
what was, for a moment in time.
The grayness of her frail body lingers,
in a dead winter of the unborn,
on page forty-nine in the family album,
in a baptismal gown never worn.
Together they dance,the woman and the child,
their soft footfalls pounding out the sorrows
of many days at a worn out headstone,
many dances to come, many tomorrows.
Together they dance, The Woman's Dance,
their hearts as one...
the woman and the child.
~By: Catie Lindsey~

(for Catie's: Re-write contest..) 

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

When I Talk to You

When I talk to you. . . I'm talking to the wall
                                                                      to photos arranged
across from where you hung the paintings
made by your own two hands. 
           
                            Set behind the dusty glass of antiquated frames -
                                                the photos tell of family, heritage, and you
 in your youthful glory. . . of you with dark lush locks
                        that framed the face 
                          of a rose in bloom


When I talk to you. . . I'm talking to the birds -
    two sweet parakeets 
                                        now more than a decade old.
The cage is not as clean as it was             when you were in your prime
                                                                   and all was immaculate!
Now someone else is caring for these birds
which tilt their little heads and inquisitively 
                                                    peer at me
                                                       as if to ask: Are we supposed to understand?

                                       and silence
                                                 meets my ears.

When I talk to you. . . .I'm talking to the air.
It smells of
              antiseptics, and today           your room is stifling.


I push you
 in your wheelchair
    to the garden, where breath of spring                  awaits us.

I talk to you, but we                                  do         not          converse.
I look into your eyes                                 grown   pale.
                                 Their   empty   stare
seems fixed 
upon the roses.             I gently pluck one up
                             
                                      and place it in your thinning snow white hair

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Mother is Dove

Modest woman moderate woman
Your inner beauty strikes me
Like the tongue of noble eloquence
More than gold even refined gold
Or our purged fulgent silver.

Black woman proud woman
Your pride is not haughty
But a humble pride of eaglets;
Your black eyes are so glittering
As the eyes of our dark rivers
Filled with messages of peace
That banish the broody turmoil
From those panting hearts
Of your foreigned offsprings.

Gentle mother diligent mother
Your kindness kindles the fires
Of my heart –
Your dexterity dresses
The table of our ageless history
And the thought of your being
– Oh kind mother! –
Makes the most delicious menu 
For my heart.

I remember your naked feet
Fast and fair as a pigeon’s limbs
Treading the invisible paths
Almost covered by shrubs
Small shrubs misted by the prime mist.

I remember the wood from the wood 
The water from the water 
And manifold items from jungle alleys 
Borne by your delicate hands
And upon your soft black-haired head.

I remember the constant match 
To markets and to farms
And your bright face smeared with 
The ash dust
Making you more beautiful
Than any woman whose feet
Ever touched the naked earth.

I remember those burdens
Upon your cheerful kin-souls 
And babies strapped to your backs
Babes full of unspoken words
To unborn others in patient wombs
Waiting in an endless turn –
Indeed, mother is dove!
A black dove and a dark huntress
A hunter’s gift from the maker?

Mother is like a weaver-bird
Building a big foot-like nest
Filled with corn and warmth
A bundle of eagle-flight
Mother is dove
And the hunter calls her
The clan’s eternal dove.

Oh, mother loving woman 
Gentle as our black horizon
To you we humbly come
From these far and lonely lands
Hoping to grace our love and beauty
Before that jealous grave
Makes her temporary feast.

Copyright © Canny Amah | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

The Woman

See the woman.

See the face behind its age.
See the beauty of her form.
See the way her way becomes her.
See past her once taught skin, as it was 
when it enflamed many a man.

See the way she holds her head;
the tilt of her neck, the ease
of her being.
See the strength that binds her jaw,
unrelenting in its flex.

See her hurt displayed, as shadows
fall like night upon the earth,
eager for rest and resolution -
retribution,
for the one she could not save.

See her darkness. See it very well.
See it shatter like glass, glinting,
when she giggles like a girl.
See her shine.
As the shades of dark days rise,

See the years that grace her eyes,
like rays of her own sun
exponentially shining forth.
See forgiveness in her patient hands
as they weave memories with a touch.

See the breadth of her breasts,
unapologetic,
for they have quenched her children’s hunger,
soothed their frantic cries,
and became the safe haven for her beloved.

See her empty, scarred abdomen –
round and perfect in its imperfections,
once holding the essence of all things;
carrying creation within –
see the divine home of God.

See the innocent baby,
the impetuous youth,
the voluptuous woman,
the devoted wife,
the selfless mother.

See the wisdom of the grandmother –
the epitome of every moment lived
for someone else, and the realization 
of the circle.
Hear the acceptance in her sigh.
See the gifts she has given –

see the woman!
See the goddess!
The beginning and the end!
See the infinite that bares the name,
Woman!

See her for all that she is and isn’t.
Smell her scent and know you are home.
Taste the strength of her words on your tongue.
Hear her experiences like your own.
To touch her soul is to touch perpetuity!

See her face in your mirror.

See the tears that fall proudly
upon the woman you’ve become,
and hope yet to become
                          in time;

when you have lived through all that has been 
set before you –
tasted each woman’s tears as if they were your own.
When you enter that perfect union,
timeless ancestry;
when you become,
when you come
full circle;

you will see yourself in all things, 
and your journey, will see you back

home.



*Reposted for Chris's Get Your Rebel On, Contest! This was written with my Beautiful 
Grandmother in mind. She saved my life in more ways than one. love you, Gran. This one's 
for you. (and every woman, and woman lover, here)

Copyright © Kristin Reynolds | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

A Cinderella Story

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Simon, I have something to say unto you. There was a certain creditor

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Whom had two debtors. One owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

And when they had nothing with which to pay he freely forgave them both.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tell Me, therefore, which of them shall love him more?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
   
Simon answered and said, “I suppose the one whom he forgave more.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He said to him, “You have rightly judged.” He then turned to the woman and  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house, you gave Me

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

No water for My feet, but she has washed my feet with her tears and wiped them

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

With the hair of her head. You gave me no kiss, but this precious woman

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Has not ceased to kiss My feet since I came in. You did not anoint My head 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

With oil, but this priceless woman has anointed my feet with fragrant oil.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Therefore I say unto you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She loved much. But to whom little is forgiven, the same loves little.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

And He said to her, “Your sins are forgiven...Your faith has saved you. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Go in peace.” ~ “A Cinderella Story” ~

Copyright © sarah seraphin | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse | |

Hermaphrodite - Part II


My thoughts are filled with the Hermaphrodite,
of the woman breaking through the surface of my skin.
I cup a vulva where there should be instead, a pen.is -
laugh aloud because I feel whole.

You ask why I am laughing, 
but you do so with your own laughter.
Your voice startles me awake,
its echo whispers along my spine.

Disorientation                        leads to clarity.

I look around, it feels like home.
Pixies shine in my eyes.
Right now you are a Pixie
             in my eyes,
a paradoxical puzzle that makes you all the more beautiful.
You have always been there,
so intertwined, I only had an illusion of being alone.

IT/You/I/We, say:

"I have been your Mother, you have been my Father,
Sister, Brother, Child, Lover."


II.

I want to make love to you
on exponential levels.
Here                finally,
I swallow the truth of always having wanted to.
You tell me that we already are,
possibly a bit differently than expected.

"In my sleep?"

"No, ancient boy, young boy."

I feel slighted for a fraction of a moment,
but the woman re-surfaces within.

You penetrate me,
using my own body to fill me/your body.
Waves. Pulsating, flowing currents.

How can I be feeling both?

We are between two Mirrors                deep beneath the Sea.
Do I dare look? Of course.
I see our reflection through your eyes -
you are using my body to make love to me/your body,
my belly is an earthquake.
There are smaller images of us rebounding between the Mirrors,
hypnotizing me, leading me deeper into reflections,
until I am only a grain of sand.

You take me in. You are an Oyster,
molding me into a Pearl,
even though you were born a Pearl. 

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

When a Woman is Just a Woman

When a woman is just a woman,
     she looks beyond the surface of
                                                 what is.
She understands the foibles of her man,
             knowing from time to time
he’ll make mistakes,
          and even though she wishes
         he could have inside his chest
a heart as tender as her own,
         she understands that men 
                         are somehow different.      
They do not often see things as she does,
                                          but that’s all right.

When a woman is just a woman, she forgives.
But sometimes, lacking courage,
                       she lets her heart be ruined,
forgiving more than even God 
                                 expects her to forgive.
  Other times, a woman isn’t the woman at all
                        God would have her be.
She scolds, demands, and lets her heart grow cold 
  in spite of everything her man may do
             to fulfill her needs.
Such a woman can never be completely satisfied.
                        

However, when a woman is just a woman -
      when she lets her loving heart
         guide her thoughts and actions 
in equal measure         with her lovely mind,
          she does not let herself be governed
                                                    by mere whim.
Rationality and compromise are among her bywords.
                Also, she knows how much to take
                                             before she calls it quits.
But always and foremost,
                    She is merciful and fair.
And never is she  too proud
                             to want for more 
than  a man          
                     who is just a man.


For Skat's Any Old Poem #9 (poem never placed in a past contest)Poetry Contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

BLACK MAGIC WOMAN


Madame Mistress, ebonies princess,
Southern comforts golden jewel,
A golden beauty down south does dwell.
She hides many secrets beneath her,
Glittering mask of mystery's mystic spells.
A dark priestess is this Cajun queen,
Black widows magic women,
Known as Ms. New Orleans.
In her crimson gown, trimmed by
Velvet's purple hues, she smiles
Behind her white lace fan.
A beguiling angel is she the devils
 Own kindred.
The voodoo queen of the swampy delta,
Ruling over the shadow demons,
Whom guard the everglades.
Underneath fancy face and social grace,
Lies the misbegotten heart of a
 Witches soul.
Here the trumpets sound at,
La Carnival as minstrels stroll,
Down Bourbon Street with rhythmic,
Precision's precise step.
Come join in celebrations grand parade,
The Maude Gra. Where anything goes,
Here things are forgotten as the sun rises,
This grand lady of beauty's legacy's charm.
Presses one finger to her redden lips,
Speaking not more than a hushed whispers
Sigh carried across bayou.
Thus does the Spanish moss weep, for
Those lost souls swallowed whole,
Beneath nights dark covenant of death.
Ghostly images walk the muddy side shores,
Phantom spectators existing as prisoners,
Trapped in limbos web, a thin fine line
Between the living and the dead.
Beware lone travelers, those for whom,
Seek mysteries glamor and mystic,
Of the southern by ways.
All are welcome to taste our spicy
Hospitality.
Yet beware pay homages respect,
To Mz. New Orleans, she after all takes
Great care of her own.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

 


Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

A Woman From God

A Woman from God

I do not cover my eyes because God gave me sight; just as he did man
I do not cover my face because God made the sun to shine on it; just as it does man
I do not hold my voice because God made it beautiful; just as he did man
I do not hold my thoughts because God gave me sense; just as he did some men
He gave me a mind that I may know one day I will see a better place than this
…that I might hold on to the hope of living where life is no longer ruled by the arrogance of man

He told me I was a complement; that I balance the one for whom I was made.
….because I too was made in His image.

                                                             ~FJ Thomas

Copyright © FJ Thomas | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

FLAVORS OF HER ESSENCE


A woman's soul, is it as porous as the air that breaks the water and earth apart from each other? In the slither of liquid contours, this maiden's essence blows into tiny glints of filling days’ silent pages without having to fill in the blanks. But such fire in her navel; swelling, leaping forth unto a black dahlia of night dripping with all the kerosene stars like a tigress on a hidden, sensuous prowl... This is her shape. Then coming from metal gut, she fumes of musky-flavored energy, steaming the brain for a war of poker in a den filled with invincible men as she raises the bets for a royal flush of aces... This is her bullish time. Yet, curling into late evening she enters into the pillows of her soul rinsed from the bouquet and incense of a dulcet day, her bosom of long breaths warming the lamp gentle, temperate, and mild in peace, coasting along the ledge of her swan sleep... This is her soul's time, shape and peace. Contest: Shadow Hamilton's Your Best Poem 10/14/2014

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

The View

        THE VIEW 
          (SADLY)

I can't believe he has to be a poet
To tell you how he feels
Maybe he does not know 
When words are written on paper 
does not mean your wounds 
are going to heal properly 

To be or not to be?
That is the question you should ask.
The man should never call himself a poet
Unless he has lived, learn, lost, and gained it back

The man who writes good poetry
In my eyes is a man of art
He can paint you anything without a paintbrush
This man I call a poet, with a colorful heart
Using all his manly skills
He is way ahead of the ordinary man
Leaving the imagination, filling the soul with chills
aroused ------- he calls for me

While (I) the woman swims in  tears
She finds herself helpless 
Without a man, she thinks she is lost, nowhere to be found

The secret of the female 
When she is broken
She begins to feel and thinks life is over 
Little does she know her time will come
When the time calls
The lady is stronger than ever

One thing I learned about a lady 
You better respect her (me)
Don't destroy (my) her better days
She will crumble you 
She will crush you where it hurts 

This is my demo to all ya poetry freaks
Keep it real!!
Don't steal my words.
I have feelings too:)

by:PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse | |

FEMALE SPIRIT


women of dusk and dawn who love to feast on their senses in a banquet ripened by love and courage, chilled to last till the moonlight bequeaths more hours for stories about earth's flesh... oh, let the first drone of music praise the female spirit voluptuous as hips sashay in gaiety wildly wet, empresses hunting for the eyes of god in men softly flowing in veils of mystery that hover in the fragrance housed in chambers of rich legends and reality: taste their tears, cuddle the apples of fertile breasts… yet no one can touch their essence or own life’s primeval wombs; women are women like their children defying any explanation. ..................... When A Woman is Just A Woman Contest Sponsor: Justin Bordner

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

I, a Red Skin dog, as some may delight to call me,

I, a Red Skin dog, as some may delight to call me,
I have heard the tales of horror, from my dark skinned foes.
I have heard the tales of terror, from others who became my friends.
And I have walked with a dark skinned woman of their tribe.
We walked in the beauty of her courage, together. Tearless. 
Tearless we both were as she spoke, for tears, only gods could cry for her.
I am a Red Skin dog.
And yet we walked together and we talked – together, fearless,
I and this swaying ebony sapling, sprung from the roots of my foes tribe.
We talked of the pitiless reality of that life she left behind, of that time
That she has left, far, far behind, like a useless scar
That has toughened over. And made her stronger. 
I learned from this daughter of my foes
That true courage is never fearless, but always stronger. Victorious,
Stronger she was by far, to this Red Skin dog
Than the thousand sons who died, in her honor. So they say. Ridiculous,
But I have heard the balance of their sins.
And for all the tales I have heard from those angry young men, and their vengeful fathers
Her horror was a thousand times more sinister. A thousand times more callous.
Horror took up residence in her home but never in her heart.
But for others, I cannot speak.
“…splinters and bursting fragments…in my mind
Ai! Tearing! Memory of tearing flesh, swallowing tears and mucus, blood and bile
…bruising and ripping garments…off my body
…filthy, familiar hands tearing at my dress…
…my legs split and broken like a wild pig slaughter, my screams smashed from my lips,
With the butt of a rifle, just used to kill a Red Skin dog…
Aieee! Clean this floor mama, mop up this spew!
It cannot be mine!
This child is not mine!
It is not mine! It is the devils own creation born in hell fire!
Born in my death! 	
Aieee! I am dead, I cannot be alive. 
I am dead and the Red Skin dogs have eaten my corpse.
Those spirits in their wingless chariot flew over the land and sea, to rescue me?
Rescue me from that black devil who said he was like Jesus to me.
I thought you were my uncle-brother…
Who else could have found us here?
Hidden away from the Red Skins and their Wingless Angels.
Only you my uncle-brother
Only you could have found us
Only you could have killed us.
And now the progeny of your evil deed suckles at my breasts
As I lie dead in the home of those Red Skin dogs you fought.”

Copyright © Michael Dom | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

The Old Woman

Shawled against 
the damp night chill,
she waits
slumped low, 
crumbled
in her favorite chair.
Old and tired 
she waits.
Eyes, once bright, 
cast a milky stare 
blind to all 
but distant memories 
and moments carved 
treasured wooden dolls 
faces and form 
now whittled away
unrecognizable.
Lines and furrows etch 
the frail countenance
struggling in vain to see
a fast approaching 
destiny.
Daylight dims as twilight fades,
and lurking in the corner there,
A Dark Shadow
smiles. . . . .
as the old woman waits 
Alone.

Copyright © Gail Roberts | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

You're my lady, made for me

You're my lady, made for me!

-----------------------

I swear to you there could never ever be!

In this whole world, as far as I could see!

Someone else who could be my soul-mate!

Except you, most precious gift of my fate!

Before we even met, I had known you forever!

Since times began, we had been apart never!

From nothing, you changed me to everything!

My queen of hearts, just with you I am a king!

You are my world, you're the love of my life!

You are my sweetheart, O my prettiest wife!

Let me yet once more get down on my knee!

To say you are my lady, who is made for me! 

-------------------------

Poetry by Dr. Asghar Nazeer (LinkedIn profile http://sa.linkedin.com/in/drasgharnazeerlinkedinprofile)

Kindly read this poem with a lovely matching photo on LinkedIn Pulse at  https://www.linkedin.com/today/author/167523528?_mSplash=1 

Please review my other 28 poems with similarly captivating pics at my LinkedIn main author's page at https://www.linkedin.com/today/author/167523528?_mSplash=1

All my posts are shared through my Facebook community page "Hear those pics Say what clicks" https://www.facebook.com/PicsAndPoets You are most welcome to visit this page as all my posts are public and everyone may tag, share, comment on and like them.

The same posts are also shared publicly and are accessible to everyone through my Google+ page https://plus.google.com/+AsgharNazeer/posts  

Copyright © Asghar Nazeer | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

HER

“H” represents the humility she 
displayed from the moment she 
opened her eyes; 
“E” would suggest a revision of 
evolution, 
Because it would take many stories and 
infinite lifetimes to explain the beauty 
of her essence; 
And “R” would ask for a human replica 
of her, 
For many men should admire such as I 
do. 


Modern Shakespeare’s should pay
close attention, 
For her personality writes poetry 
itself, 
And yet the pen remains in my 
hand, 
To describe beauty in third person. 


My cold and nonchalant heart has never 
asked for another summer to warm up too, 
Unless purposeful reasons for an appeal of the 
heart were discovered, 
And yes! 
These reasons always spelt out 
her name. 


As in life which contains both success 
and failure, 
I’ll risk it all, in hope’s for mutual 
affection; 
I’d serenade time if it meant I could 
spend more in her serenity; 
Forget the ridicule and episodes of embarrassment, 
The only thing on television tonight is the 
heartfelt expression of a peacock, 
Waiting to display his romantic feathers to the 
archetype woman; 
Today and forever; 
I’ll dedicate to her. 

Copyright © Jiril Clemons | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Temptress- A Collab with PC

You tempt me
As I sense your presence by my side
The whisper of your flowing silken dress
A whiff of fragrant jasmine scent.
 
You tempt me
With each flicker of your doe-brown eyes
Shadowed in lilac hues and full dark lashes
A smile, partly concealed on pouting lips.
 
You tempt me
With curvaceous waves of long black hair 
Cascading by glowing peach-rose cheeks  
Rising, falling on your breast with every breath. 
 
You tempt me
As you stand against the evening light
The Aphrodite of my dreams and fantasies
Seductive, alluring and desirable.
 
I temp you 
As gently I pull back my straying hair 
Nestled on the fullness of my breast
Exposing what your famished eyes are feasting on.
 
I tempt you
In silent expectation my body glows 
With purpose of fulfilment I slowly make my way to you
My haloed shadow dances on your rigid form.
 
I tempt you
Breathless, you lean against the wall
My desires surging at this sign of weakness
Within inches of your body, I languidly pause.
 
I tempt you
Sensuously, at satin ribbons my fingers pull 
Until my struggling gown hesitantly quivers 
Before it glides and gathers at my feet.
 
I tempt you
Grounded by wanton cravings, I look you in the eyes
I simply smoulder there within your reach 
The final vestige of abstinence still lingers in the air.
 
I tempt you
Then I lean in, my breath is warm upon your check 
Against your heaving chest my breasts now brush 
I breathe and whisper softly “Come to me.”
 
I tempt you
Inveigled in this rare moment, my heart bursts 
As you crush my body tightly against yours
You taste the temptress kiss that frees your needs.
 
I tempt you
For my heart has long been tempted
By strong unquenched desires 
For you.

A collaboration between Paul Callus and Appassionata (Paul's name for me)

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

ONLY YOU

                                    Never thought, never knew,
                           that some day I'd find a woman like you.
                                    A woman with pure delight.
                       A woman who's mind is so aimlessly bright, that
              the sacrifices made brings the world underneath your sunlight.
                           A woman with thoughts and emotions that
                                 are defined through her eyes.
                   Laying next to her our thoughts mount up as one and
                                      disappear in deep sky's.

                                  Yes adversity will come and go,
                           but in life, with faith we'll constantly grow
            Although there are tears shed and pain that we will seldom share,
                    No other individual will come close enough to compare
                              Time we've spent is no regret to me,
                               Just hope you and I will forever be.


"An old piece"

Copyright © Pace INK-U-SCRIPT | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

Woman, The I Am

I am the woman. I am the only woman. I am the one woman. My name is Women. I nurse nations at my breast. Ripened bosoms set loins afire. Life spews forth from my parted thighs. Astride they clamp and drain desire. Lips, that part as seas once did, Guiding the yearning with silent voice. Plump and moist, they quench the arid Voices singing their grateful rejoice. My blood flows red, and rich, and warm. Tears stream rivulets borne of joy and sorrow. A rib once lost, hath given no reason to mourn I am perfected, I will lead all tomorrow. Woman, is my name. Woman, I am the one. Woman, I am the only one. Woman, the I am.

Copyright © Brenda Atry | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

Lupita's Request

Lupita…forgive me, 
For I would never sin from these 
lips, 
Such words that would spoil the beauty 
of your existence;
But if you requested such a crime, I’d argue 
for remnants of your time, 
And charm you as my fatal audience. 

Of these things I would cite verbally, 
Would be the origin of shape, gifted upon 
your figure, 
Those curves that gave birth to the unpredictable
patterns of life, 
Swaying the adoration of midnight flesh, into these
new testaments of woman. 

How simply intoxicating is this craving?
To bear witness to chocolate unspoiled, as it lay 
peacefully naked over maker’s canvas; 
Let it not melt away, before millions can sample its 
sensuous glow. 

Perhaps art can be reborn from such stillness, 
While wasted labels could fade into retirement, 
Convincing the almighty to revise the structure of 
Eve, 
And acknowledge this last miracle…Lupita. 

What else could be molded from this paradise, but a
Queen’s thoughts and motives? 
If there is nothing but truth in this crime, then I’ve painted 
the solitude of heaven, perfectly. 

Copyright © Jiril Clemons | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Hey you

Hey you

Hey you, yes you standing there
Are you ashamed?
Are you afraid?
Do you even care?

Hey you, yes you, stop right there
I heard it all
I saw you there
Oh, how I wish I did not care

Hey you, yes you, don’t look over there
It’s you, you’re the one I’m talking to
You know me, yes you do
I sit above, high above your head.

I am your conscience
And as your conscience I cried
I cried for the barmaid that you had raped
I cried for the young girl you terribly insulted.

Hey you, yep I have your attention now
You see the barmaid, yes you have been reported
The young girl, hung herself last night
She died hanging on a rope.

Hey you, Yep now I have your attention
Do you care now?
Are you scared now?
Hey you, behind those bars, I am your conscience.

Lisa Duggan 17 August 2014.


 


Copyright © lisa duggan | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Shock and Awe, Coming Back Home

My friends come home draped in flags 
I pause at the edge of the airplane door
Facing a tunnel leading me to a muffled joy
Strangers tell me I am related to them...
I deny a woman with three kids... her kiss
My friends are slipping in trucks with flags
They are loaded and back doors explode shut...
..............................................................

I wake up in a trench of blood and clean pillows
The same woman from the airport next to me
 Peacefully breathing...and I thought she was dead...
I think I am finally home, fans are not propellers
Camouflage doesn't bear swing sets in backyards
My friends' helmets, guns and boots line up in my head
Patrolling with weapons made of aluminum foil
-------------------------------------------------

There is too much silence for a dead soldier walking...
I think I FEEL the kiss of the woman with three kids ...







Copyright © iolanda Scripca | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse | |

When a man loves a woman

I was less once
The day before I met you
Before I saw myself through your eyes
Before I believed I was worthy of a forever love
A completing love
I didn't know
I didn't understand
That I could love someone
The way that I love you
Moments have turned into years
and years feel like moments
I feel I can be me 
and still I want to be more because of you
A better man
A more giving considerate man
My wish for you is to know that I have never stopped seeing you
I appreciate the kindness and generosity of your soul
You give of yourself each day
Your heart is a truly splendid thing
Your beauty takes my breath away
I still feel shy when you look at me
My body still aches with my need of you
You are God's greatest and most treasured gift
You are the proof that He Loves and knows me
Yes, I was less once
The day before I met you!

Written Sept 4th 2015

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Warpath Woman -

I need a woman who can dance on a diamond and who can curse on a candle with equal aplomb,I need a woman that can calm like a bomb,

I want a woman that can sew ginger stiches on a sad man's soul,I need a woman that can sing the sorrow sweet from unexpected defeat,

I need a woman I should trust like the sun,one that will find fun in the mud,carry a ton,laugh when its done,a lady that can rob a mob ,an old mom,

I want a woman that can slap a kid like shes petting a dog,one that speaks to spirits as though she was born in the fog,having eyes that compete,

I need a woman that can raze a nation,shun reservation,and raise the meek and weak to sublimation,a woman that could die with a smile,

I want a woman that can hug,shove & tug me,a fine lady that tells me " despite working for the world you are a king handsome & rude all the while "  -

J.A.B.  2008

Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

Groundswell Girl - Named by JB

Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be 
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed 
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin 
Whisper lies as I let you in 
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky 
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail

Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

Have more respect for yourself

*READ ALL BEFORE COMMENTING*

Lord forgive me she says she is on that sophisticated wine and dine, 
she says her lips are sweet, hips full bliss enough to put your mind at ease. 
Damn girl where did you get those degrees. 
She feigns knowledge, pledges abstinence but lets loose to the first fool she sees
Then pledges again and lets loose and the cycle continuously, continues in a loop of ignorance. 
Strange you are, a woman you are,
so when will you take a stand, and understand your lips and hips... 
momentary satisfactions. The ratings of your visage an illusion which fades over time. 
Rude... me... no, truthful yes, knowledge is a blessing the king you seek is not 
dwelling in the slums in where you hum your tunes
Lord forgive me she says she is on that sophisticated wine and dine, 
she says her lips are sweet, hips full of bliss enough to put your mind at ease. 
I won't beg, I won't cry so the more power to you girl, cause ignorance is truly bliss

Copyright © Guy-Adler Dorelien | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Favors

Colton was a bartender,
computer hacker for the government.
Three days after i heard the zip
he moved to Korea.
He had glasses and made Malibu Rum margaritas
so good that I couldn't stop sipping on his heart.

Now Harrison was the thrasher.
Homemade tattoo guns,
baggy sweats and paint.
he wanted to stamp EASTSIDE into my chest 
so that my breasts would remember his touch.

Cooper was the football star
three times my weight.
He stopped my breathing
as he laid on top of me.
Shh, he whispered. We don't want to wake them.
We smoked in the back of his truck after the fact.
He kept my lipstick stained cigarette
so he would remember his best blowjob, he told me.
As he drove into the dark 
I watched him with broken eyes.

Peter was the musician,
asked me to come to one of his gigs
so that he could play a song for me.
He closed his eyes during the entire song
and told me that he was picturing me naked.
We were in the back of his car.
It was pouring, cold, and uncomfortable.
Thanks for the favor
he mentioned.

That is when I began giving favors as a past time.

1 hour for ten addys.
Okay.

2 hours for a line.
Okay.

30 mintues for a cocktail.
Okay.

Favors faded.
Okay, they said.
and i screamed into my pillow.

Copyright © Katie Pukash | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

ISIS

She's the first image of God
the Alpha    the Omega
the beginning   NO end
the highest evolution of God
God sent
the Black woman is God
nappy   nappy
the master
the servant
still happy  happy
the first image of God
strength that cannot be broken
soul that cannot be bought with a
silver or gold token
YES! 
she’s the first image of God
Mother of the rainbow children
Lucy    Auset   Isis    Virgin Mary
I know  
sounds scary   scary
the Black woman is God
skin as brown as dirt 
divine flower sprung from the earth
she’s the first image of God
Original descender
return of Christ
Nibiru ascender
the universal womb of God
divine womb   divine wombman
holding the knowledge of God
the Black woman is the mystery of God
 Isis   Genesis 
genealogy of God

Copyright © BLUE33 NailahBaniti | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

These hands

Amani the peaceful warrior
A woman who risked her life
To save mothers and daughters from the notorious war crimes
Deep in the jungles of Congo 

The continuing human rights violence
The rape, the discrimination and the children armies 
The non stop crisis that seemed to worsen with each dawn

Amani the peaceful warrior established safety homes for the victims
Through varying trainings the mothers and daughters were taught farming, knitting, cooking, simple medical training, arts and crafts and many more
With counseling she gave back the victims the power they had lost
Their smiles grew, their hearts shone

A rose garden was planted to show this victory
And as the smiles grew, so did it

They heard of Amani and in one of her rescue missions, she was captured
Her hands and legs were tied

He said, "these hands have to go"
To humiliate her and her course
To destroy her and her dreams

But even as she left, her legacy lived beyond the pain and the torture.


*Fictional*

Copyright © njeri hunjeri | Year Posted 2015