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Abuse Woman Poems | Abuse Poems About Woman

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

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Details | Blank verse | |

Patchwork Girl

As we watch the girl stumble inside of her cage.
We wait, from without, and we shout out directions.
Answers opposing, our voices clang together --
As useful as banging of pots to the floor.

Enslaved, she carries the weight of his weakness.
Pulled to bloody knees, she dare not cry out.
While around us were blue skies and grasses so green,
Her sky was obsidian, with dust at her feet.

Filled with remorse, bruises deepen and spread
Into scars and disease she thinks cannot heal.
The patchwork girl, with no shroud for cover,
Lay broken and hollowed in chains of defeat.


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.


Details | I do not know? | |

RIP Virginity

Dear Sir, my innocence is gone now, no more fear 
Do you love to **** me again, I am always here. 
I wonder when you taught me how to use a pen, 
I was so into you but my ****** was in pain! 
I was crying; I was too immature to understand
I was turning only 13, I couldn't feel what happened. 
but I promise I never forget what you taught me at the end. 
I begged you to stop and looked into your eyes, 
there was a reflection of a cruel world, that’s  what I deserved!
Don't be afraid, mommy never knows what you did, 
Nobody knows that you made me bleed. 
Dear sir, my innocence is gone with all my tears,
as I had no safe place to hide myself from fears.
Nobody saw anything as your world was so blind! 
having hidden hatred inside, a virgin died. 
Dear sir, time cannot erase your memories, 
time doesn't heal all wounds, that you marked, 
yes, you took my innocence that will be always on my mind.
My innocent world was shattered by your touch
Hope no one ever has to experience such
For all the pain, all the cruelty, thank you very much!


Details | Epic | |

The pride of a woman

 The pride of a woman
A woman
She is so beautiful
A woman
She is so tender
A woman
She is so emotional 
A woman
She is so humble
A woman
She is so caring
A woman
She is sensitive
A woman 
She is a mother
A woman
On and on she is

The pride of a woman
just for a culture she is
Abuse tender,
At the age of 12 
In africa
A man at his 60's
Pay for her as a wife
As culture demand
What a culture

The pride of a woman
Sade is on exile
She got married
At age 11
And ever since her life
Change
For more 12 years
She lived as a slave wife
To his rich religious husband
At 73 he died 
As culture and custom permit
His first son will take over
 his late fathers wives and wealth

The pride of a woman
Sade could not take it 
any more
And she took a risk of her
Life 
As She try's migrate to Italy 
On the way she died
On a sea with a rubber boat
Her body was never found 
Till date
 
The pride of a woman
Say no to abuse of woman
In the third world countries
Say no to early marriage
Stop the killing of female
Stop the rape of our beautiful 
Women
In Africa a culture of
Early marriage 
Rule so high

The pride of a woman 
A woman 
Is also a human
Not a man's property


Details | Romanticism | |

Can you feel me

Feel me standing there
on the draw bridge
that stands stubburn and erect
over the rushing waters blown by the wind
back and forth.
I listened to the crows
posted on gargoils designed
of eightenth century Gothic architecture
singing their death songs,
when the sun is setting in the far.

The voices of women passing
startle me with a feeling of sorrow
I can't breathe, I am dying.
Feel me, can you feel me rot away?
Slowly but surely rot away
as time passes with ease,
and taxi cabs take smiling, intoxicated faces
to wayward cafes, oh how they screech to a halting stop
and wave to me to get in.

"No thank you, I'd rather walk." I say to the smiling faces
highly intoxicated with the thought of the birds and the bees
rattling around in their empty minds.
Then they drive off, into the city lights and turn a darkened corner.
I look at the rushing water
and feel myself rot away
slowly but surely rot away.

Can you feel me?
Can you hear me?
Can you see me?
Feel my heart thump with slow paces
that manage to keep up with fast melodies.
Of songs that play in your mind
only the ones that make you sigh
and think those one days in Spring time
as you walked over the draw bridge
and paid no mind to the water underneth.
I hear no more talk of you and me, I hear no more talk
of the good old times we all shared.
Time has passed, as I take my last breathe
and hold my chest and shead a tear.
Feel me, can you?
If you can, put your hand to my weak heart 
and feel it thump away with every second wasted
on useless items.
Now, see me a man of one time greatness
reflect his life with a reflection in the water below.
How I sigh and cry and breath heavely,
as I feel myself rot away.

The voices of woman pass me by.
Tomorrow is a new day,
for the smiling faces in taxi cabs will go home
and soak their raging hangovers with cool, wet rags.
As I still stand on the draw bridge singing with the crows,
feeling myself rot away.

Can you feel me without you, rotting away?
I surely can feel myself rot.
Such a heavy word, "rot"
So vulgare, yet a great description of me,
without you.

I pull out a shawl you once wore and I kiss it.
As the wind gusts and the sun rises and my shadow
comes to meet me, the wind shall take my last memory
of you away.
And I shall weep no more.
Then what will I do? Shall I walk the streets
and think of you.
Yes you, still rambling all throughout my head
like a lose screw.
Can you feel me? Feel me rot away
feel me think about you, and all your works.
Can you feel me?


Details | Epic | |

The Woman with A Pair of Shoes

this is a story of a woman.
work hard for the living.
used to work in the evening.
her face is filled with glitters.
inside the cave of dragons and beasts...

she is my beloved childhood friend.
she made a letter one day we met.
to let the people know 'bout herself.
she left it my wallet one morning,
and this is what she's telling....

she was only 15 when she left our town.
try to experience a life she dreamed about.
she dreams to change her life somehow.
but trouble had came and wreck her life.
thought this man can save her from the dark.

but the wheel of fortune did not fave her.
she was thrown inside the carcel.
she became famous in a world of fools.
dancing alone with a pair of shoes.
naked and wounded, her soul is abused.

too many years passed,
our roads had crossed.
I saw her picture in front of a door.
her hair has colors,her face is old.
I went to witness what a world she holds.

so many people are watching over,
their eyes are glimmer and craving.
I look up and see what's amuse them.
A question risen up in my head.
why is she dancing with just a pair of shoes?

that night seemed long, we drove away.
we felt each moment, our soul had mate.
I've drowned in a passion I dreamed to own.
I wake up that morn, I'm all alone.
holding a letter she wrote all night long.


this is the story of a woman,
wearing just a pair of shoes.
she is not different from you.
she is a princess of her dad.
she's an angel, she must be love.




Written by: Aiyah De Torres
Entry for WOMEN ONLY Poetry Contest

** 4th Place Winner**


Details | Free verse | |

The Woman In The Window

                                               Can you see the woman in the window?
                                                 She basks in the glow of the moment,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 
                                                 donning a princess pink gown
                                                 with a train of angel white.
                                                 Nervous tears of joy                    
                                                 stream down her vibrant face
                                                 streaking her blushing cheeks
                                                 a pallad hue of shadow blue.

                                                
                                                Can you see the woman in the window?
                                                  She bathes in the light of renewed hope
                                                  dressed in a large billowing top
                                                  with teddy bears adorning the front.
                                                  The sudden thrust of an innocent kick
                                                  forces her to clutch her swollen belly,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               
                                                  and a tender smile fades to a wince
                                                  as motherhood pains begin to quicken.

                                               Can you see the woman in the window?
                                                  she soaks in the brutality of the moment
                                                  clothed in a torn cotton gown
                                                  with crimson streaks down the front
                                                  Like a doll thrown to the floor,
                                                  she lay broken against the window
                                                  her head twisted slightly askew
                                                  with finger bruises around her neck.
                                                  Her battered terror ravaged face
                                                  pressed against a cracked window pain,
                                                  like some macabre masterpiece.
                                                  Two crystal blue eyes frozen in fear 
                                                  now free from the hands of oppression
                                                  surrender a horrible unspoken truth.
                                                  Huddled next to the cold lifeless body,
                                                  a tiny teary-eyed little girl
                                                  clutches a frail banded hand,
                                                  and loudly whimpers the words:
                                                  Mommy! Please wake up! 
                                         
                                                 Have you seen a woman in the window?
                                                  Will she be there tomorrow...?
                                                  
                                                  


Details | Free verse | |

I Have Been Her Kind

"haunting the black air, braver at night.......
...lonely thing, twelve fingered, out of mind......
.....I have been her kind."
Anne Sexton


I Have Been Her Kind

I float above....
a cloud, unto myself
my heart a stone experiment
A woman slightly bent

My shapely legs
beneath a dowdy skirt
My sensual lips
turned down with hurt
Leaf brown to love
A woman not defined

An all renouncing mind
Where trust has flown
on dark befuddled wings
A woman, prey to death

 I have been her kind

 Suzanne Delaney


Details | Free verse | |

DEAR DIARY

Dear Diary,
It's eleventh day of June, I'm about to celebrate my 18th birthday.
But this morning, I don't wanna go out and face the world.
I'm tired, my Dear Diary... I don't have enough strength to tell them my secrets.
It's you and I who only knew this thing, even mom's not aware of it!
I'm afraid that they may not understand, that they may be wrath or hurt me.
You knew, it's been six years now that we everyday talk about it.
And you're the only one that help me breathe when I suffocate.
Six years of unstoppable nightmare, I still recall.
It was 10:00 PM and mom has gone for a party.
Uncle Joe was left to look after the kids and me.
I woke up when I felt the wind passing through my window.
It's a cold dark night, I tried to shield myself in a blanket.
When suddenly an image of a guy entered in my room.
I closed my eyes so tight,then told myself it's a monster from the dark!
But his footsteps moved towards my bed,until a big hand grabbed my mouth.
I grasp the air then try to shout, aloud but he punched me out.
That was so hurt and caused me weak, until I surrendered to his wrist.
Though weak and helpless I felt the pain...
The deep penetration of his thorn to my flesh.
I was left broken into pieces at my very young age.
The most painful moment when someone broke my life.
A night I couldn't forget 'til today that I've grown.
And this evening, I'll be a princess in  a rose pink gown,
The crowd will sure awe while they watch me dance.
I hope I can have the courage to refuse the last hand.
The hand of my step dad who will be my last dance.
I hope I can tell the world that this guy ruined my life.
That he must pay for killing my flesh every night that mom is out!
But today, It's just you and me,  my Dear Diary.
Who knew all the secrets and the faith that I achieved.





written: May 12,2014
Entry to: Anne Currin's Dear Diary Poetry Contest




Details | Free verse | |

a woman cannot always leave


If a man is hurt by love
he just up and leaves -
becomes a recluse
Finds a shack somewhere 
by a pond in the woods

But a woman cannot always leave
she has her family
her pride of porcelain
She tends the stove for them
cooks over the heat
her thoughts directed inward
From December to December she tends them
A recluse in her heart


Come December
 when a pond somewhere
 is covered in ice 
an old man remembers
 he laments his days
 as a recluse with just a stove for heat
the memory of her never leaves him
a memory  as icy-cool
 as her porcelain



Details | Lyric | |

In Bloom

Written July 29, 2013


The wind blows the rainbows down
Turns your frown upside down
Then spins it back around

The sun hides the moon
Underneath its coat in bloom
The flowers came late this June

The rain in a teardrop
Falls like dew from a leaf
When she looks at me

See that look upon her face
Used to take her to the stars
Now she's headed back from Mars

Now that Venus loves her more
Wouldn't throw her to the floor
Like before


Details | Free verse | |

I'll Stand For You

I am standing for the woman that is too weak to stand,
A string of abuse she has suffered all her life long. 
She believes she is on her own no one to support her
So I will be her strength and support, her verbal backbone.

Let me then tell you Mr. Abuser, I will not stand aside,
While you tear down the walls of the weak and feeble.
In your face I’ll stand, with my shoulders squared fast,
Been there, stepped up, overcame, so that is my armor.

Now that’s not where I’ll leave it, more needs to be done
For the woman that is weak and feeble in self esteem.
A rescue is not the wherewithal, there has to be a goal
For her to strive unto, on the road she'll walk to being whole.

Encourage her to use her past of pain, to build
A better self for her future and make her fears
Be the rock on which she stands, to reach higher
Above the murk of abuse and self-mutilation. 



  

For Debbie's contest:  Stand


Details | Rhyme | |

Paper Thin

Your paper-thin porcelain skin,
I know how to get right under it.
For kicks is why I do it now.
You tell me to love but I never knew how.
Our feet hitting pavement,
We spent the day in sunny California with sun kissed skin.
I’m learning to forget and how to fade scars,
And you let me let myself down so hard.

Your paper-thin porcelain skin,
I know how to get right under it.
And now I just do it for smiles,
We’ll never see flower girls stumbling down aisles.
I’d lose my head just before that chance,
But if you want we can still have a first dance.
Cause I think I say things that I don’t mean,
Once upon a time you meant the world to me.

Your paper-thin porcelain skin,
I know how to get right under it.
But I’m trying to refrain,
To make this not all end up in vain.
Maybe I can learn to love like some people do,
And you can learn to love yourself a little too.
Or it is in all fairness to let this go?
I guess we can try but then we’ll never know. 


Details | Monorhyme | |

A Woman Repaired

A battered woman in tattered cloths huddled beneath an oak.
Befuddled by the stranger’s gaze as he handed her his cloak.
Unwittingly, her lips curled up as her tangled hair she stroke.
Her pale blue eyes began to tear as she looked upon the bloke.

Her yesterdays were filled with pain for her spirit had been broke.
Each night she walked beneath the stars, tears flowing; she never spoke.
Without knowing, passers-by, would sneer at her cruelly and joke.
Her younger years still haunted her, the assaulting by men-folk.

Left for dead in her blood stained clothes, after hours she awoke.
Now, she cowers-down and slinks away even from her kinfolk.
And so she has lived since that distant time, cold, without a cloak 
Long ago in a frenzied daze, her engagement had been broke.

The gold upon her finger disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
Her memories of love and peace to that horror had been yoked.
Wild blue eyes painted well the scene; deadly terror did evoke.
And not one smile escaped her lips since her spirit had been broke.

That battered woman in ragged clothes drawn-up beneath the oak,
Surprised that someone cared enough and would share with her his cloak.
He reached for her with his soft skinned hands; smiling, he bespoke.
Come, my dear, and walk with me, a new ring to mend…our hearts broke.	

Copyright January 12, 2014


Details | Lyric | |

Beware the Woman

Beware of a woman with a broken heart
She used to be a girl
They never see pain coming when it's just the start
But a little experience let the truth unfurl
She'll take what you have and throw it away
Just like a little girl
But bat her eyes and beg you to stay
And you'll give it another whirl
Beware the woman with a broken heart
She'll break yours to make amends
She'll claim that the two halves are better apart
She thinks that's how her story ends

Beware the girl with a fragile heart
She'll become a woman one day
Treat her right from the very start
Don't be the one to hurt and run away


Details | Haiku | |

On an abused woman

A cool fresh breeze
is wiping off her tears,
not her bruises.
---
She is making up
her tears with
big warm smiles.
--
Unconcerned
witnesses to her woes-
luxurious furniture.


Details | Villanelle | |

APPREHENSIVE

Justice adjourns in Civil Law. All must hear my voice. I entered the Court Room insecure. I stand as he enters the room. The Judge begins deliberation. Justice adjourns in Civil Law. The injuries I have are the cause of litigation. My pain is stated via face. I entered the Court Room insecure. In God’s speed, I trust. Confidence begins to enter my person. Justice adjourns in Civil Law. Focus on the Defense brings more confidence. I stop self-doubting. I entered the Court Room insecure. The case was heard. The Judge submitted his Opinion and Order. Justice adjourns in Civil Law. An abuse of discretion An error in Law I entered the Court Room insecure. Justice adjourns in Civil Law. ______________________________/ Sponsor: Juli- Michelle Contest Name Rhyme Battle: Round 4 Entry Date: March 09. 2014 Motif: Justice ~This is not a typical Villanelle. A villanelle can be atypical. This villanelle is atypical (not traditional 19 lines) because it has 22 lines (w/o spaces counted) but is perfect to rhyme scheme. Note: However, a villanelle needs no particular meter or line length, so I was free to experiment with the form. Villanelle is terribly obsessive and brings out the emotions of any neurotic writer. ~Please read About This Poem!~


Details | Light Poetry | |

a womans cry

Dynasties of radiance splash into a womans swimming pool of excellence a womans cry transforms failures into triumph, should i feel agony & defeat for the lost bondage of our love, does a womans cry begin to symbolize the sacred feelings hiding inside the belly of a mans lies, a queen at the throne was promised, i bear children in the midst of our fight for survival do you dare assassinate my worth, my conscious is a relentless drum at the mercy of ones entertaining commands listen to a womans cry, how do i remain steady when even i question my character, is it wrong to look towards the heavens seeking pity for not being your lone constant treasure, such a life grows deeper as i sleep but find not an eye full of rest, my heart is but a mere myth who will hear a woman cry, weary i crawl for the weight of your misfortunes too great to shield, my place as a mother weakend by your arrows of discretions, spare me of your tough ridges, rid me of your chaotic demanor, heal my wounded but not broken spirit from your barbariac abuse, sooth my emotions for empty i remain a womans cry


Details | Verse | |

Bloodwoman

When the night comes,
and the world is a away,
the demons step out,
as their corpses decay.

Across Will-street,
lived a mysterious sinner.
A famous voice,
whose faintest whisper made the mighty shiver.

Her long gold locks,
made many a man weak,
till he knew her up close,
where no one could hear his helpless shriek.

Burning lust,
disappeared in her embrace,
then moving swiftly,
dripping blood from her long nails.

She was her daddy's girl, people say,
till she hit him with a gun.
No man could ever escape,
the trap of this woman.

Courage, don't be weak,
don't let your young heart loose.
She is waiting till the night birds call,
she has her sight on the whole town view.

Widows always weep,
the young is red meat,
when she kills all the sinners,
she is the bad woman.
When your daddy is cheap,
you ought to be weak,
but she is not a dying soul,
she is Bloodwoman.


Details | Haiku | |

Geisha Advanced Education - Haiku

       Geisha Advanced Education - Haiku

educated young
no song, no dance, no sex, blessed
Jade barks, Geisha laps


Details | Free verse | |

JUSTICE ON BROKEN HANDS

She is dancing like a fairy with her long-sequenced gown,

Her long, curly hair swaying as she moves around.

Angels are watching her over the moonlit shadow.

Closed eyes,indulging the melody of playing  tunes. 

A cavalry came in and run her off  on  his horse.

Laid her down to a bed of petals and thorns..---

The shadow started to cruise and moan like a beast.

The heaven cries and mourns for a fate she'd faced.

Her limbs are broken and  can barely stand  on  feet.

And the music keeps on playing, swaying her hair in the wind.

A tiny drop of water wake  her up from an endless nightmare.

The surge stopped moaning and the dawn break his voice.---

Watching a stranger in a very deep sleep,plan was formed in mind.

Vengeance is on her hands,a blazing anger will next explode.

Looking back is  a  breathless and bleeding soul.--


She is wearing her torn long-sequenced gown , stood up strong.

Rain fall down  and washed blood off her hands.

The music keeps playing, the wind blows and pain has gone.



*AiyaH De Torres
WITH THESE HANDS Free Poetry Contest
12/18/2013
Visual 5


Details | Blank verse | |

JUST A BROKEN BOTTLE

I remember when he grabbed me with his eyes
and I couldn't yell or scream but smile at him
slowly he led me into his dingy room 
where we could not be seen

behind the curtain he sat me on the couch 
then he sat by my side and my flimsy wrap fell
he gazed upon my slender form and touched my lips 
he was elegant and I was wet and cold and damp
and his touch of body was nice and warm

then his feverish lips he pressed to mine
I gave him every drop of what I had in me
and he drained me of my very self
I couldn't make him stop ‘cos for the first time  
I was loving it and loving it and loving it 
I cared less about what Papa may say 

I never wondered what Mama may say 
I was just loving it loving it loving it 
that's why you find me here today 
a broken bottle, drained empty to the bottom 
and tossed away in the trash of nothingness 
I who was once adorable and full of wine


Details | Ballad | |

I want to write


I want to write
This time of that cold night
when I heard my mother cry
When I saw her lie
Flat on her belly
Her back bare and scaly
Her eyes swollen
Her right stolen
By one she called husband.

I saw the tears
I saw her fears
she sobbed between the whips
she tightly bit her lips
And tightened her hips
to swallow the pain
just for her stay.

I want to write
this time of that night
that night without stars
when I saw the scars
On her back
the scars stuck
made a permanent mark
on her back.

I want to write
I want to write
This time of my mother
write her as a victim
tortured by male chauvinism.
write her as a strong woman
Who challenged the stress of a man
Mama who raised us
built us
Made us.

so rise mama and shine
All will be fine
Mama rise and shine
All will be fine
RISE MAMA AND SHINE.
All will be fine.


Details | ABC | |

Black Woman

Heeey! Heey! Black, black woman 
Run, Black Woman Run,Run for your 
So called husband is about to Beat 
you and hit. You again, Black 
Woman Run,Run for he has Made 
Another child somwhere and you are 
about to Bear the Pain for his 
Eraction.
Heeey! Black Woman Run, Run for 
he did not Go to Work the whole 
Week and yet he will want food on 
the Table. Black woman Run Run for 
He is drunk again and yes he will 
force to have sex with you even 
though he knows that you know He  
is sleeping around and Only God 
knows if he uses prottection, oh! I 
feel the pain you feel Woman but 
still you have a chance to escape 
such pain and suffering, Black 
woman Run, For this is so sad for 
you. 
Black Woman didn't He promised 
you to love you until his last Breath? 
Was he not the one who said till 
death do you Part not till he putts 
you to Death, Woman I have seein 
your suffering and pain now Run b4 
He bruse you myb he may kill you 
this time, look at that deep scare 
above your eye, look at your swalen 
arm oh! What about that internal 
bleeding you had the other day ey 
Run Woman you shining Armour is 
turning into something else Run, 
Run Run its getting worse


Details | Couplet | |

THE CREEPS

In his country, he says I would be called a fat *i*c* with my hips being thick.
He said his men would f*c*k me so much I would join the crowd of skinny lovers.

In his country, he states I would not have sex the way I want.
He pants that his men like a*s*o*e.

Plethora my people would shout.
Embarrassment has stepped-out.

In his country, is sex slavery.
His men would just snatch me off the streets to control me sexually.

In his country, I am not.
So why is he talking to me half-cocked.

In his country, terrorism to them is love.
To me he must be from an Arab World.
_____________________________________|
Penned on May 13, 2014!


Details | Sonnet | |

To Break the Witch's Spell

   TO BREAK THE WITCH'S SPELL
Suffer you not the bidding of a witch
does not she call from out of dark and death
to put in you, from head to toe, her pitch
as pain you feel, unto your final breath?

To break the spell, one time be all alone,
shut in your closet door and close it tight,
denounce her spirit, make her logic known,
to be her dying day, and final flight.

Then pray she knows, as certain as she dies
in agony, for every sin she's done,
her death will be, from whence she never flies,
and  pays the price for what was once her fun.

One death she'll die, but through eternity
Unless her spell is cast away from thee.
 
Die *****!
© Ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet


Details | I do not know? | |

I am One Woman

I am One Woman
by Lori Maria Walton

Dedicated to women who have suffered abuse around the globe who need hope after the tragedies in everyday life, the disappointments we encounter along the way, and the beauty that remains inside, but we so often fail to see.

Left alone to die in a cell that is limited to your command
Why do women leave their only self
To join as a slave to the one who laughs at their weakness
Deems them unworthy through all tasks
In spite of all the hard work

I stand here amazed at my own naivety
Chasing a dream of what I’m supposed to be
Leaving the love and freedom of who I really am
To begin a life with someone who cares less
Than I ever could

A baby is what I was hoping for
A baby has evaded me
Leaving me only with your spirit of criticism
Whispering to me that somehow, I am really not ok
Even for a moment

Doubt beyond doubt
Piles up to the ceiling 
Along with all the initials that stand behind my name
Mocking me that I could only enjoy a false sense
Of victory over anything

Everything I have failed 
Nothing have I succeeded in or feel as though I have
Made a mark beyond a small tainted coloring
On the glimpse of life that meets my eyes
In every dawn

Shall I continue this nonsensical dance
Waiting for someone to acknowledge my ability
To provide something valuable to my family, society, and self?
Or shall I retreat into the secrecy of the spirit
That haunts my being

I am one woman
One spirit that wakes every morning 
A brief moment do I savor the morning prayer
The burgeoning flowered tree bowing to me and opening its door
To come in and dine

I cannot open my soul again
I cannot be all that I want to be for you as I was
I can only sit beneath this old maple and dream of days 
When I fully saw light, hope, and love within each soul
And lifted myself to new heights through a window 
That never existed.


Details | Quatrain | |

Woman

Down a jagged path she walks, Upon a crooked lane, when Something pulls at her arm, Teasing her, horde of men. She goes harassed, back to her house In her little peaceful den When what comes but to her mind-- That rowdy horde of men. Now afraid, now detesting, Now she feels surprise; Sudden burst of anguish felt, Suddenly she cries. She recalls a shallow laugh, Eyes full of shallow lust-- How life of shame was cast on her-- Each moment a disgust. Shame she feels, but then those That should be ones to cry, Instead laugh and laugh again-- Drink their glasses dry. Of shame, of angst or shame again Shall this be her thing to dwell upon She asks, and tries to figure out "What if from hence I'm gone?" Then she feels the coldest chill, Running down her spine, "Why must I ever give up myself Or let go of what is mine?" "Why must I be the one alway To take this bitter pill? Must not those that dole it out Find too their fairer fill?" Be that be and then I will Hold myself my hand A faintest breeze brushes past her, She now will keep her stand...


Details | Imagism | |

THE WANTON WOMAN

She likes young boys
Plays with them like toys
And with their boiling testosterone
They kneel before her  throne 
Always yawning for more

She mockingly and sexily dresses
Her body half naked and searching 
For the wondering eyes of the boys 
Provoking their dark desires  
As they come to her scrambling

She drives a black limousine
With enough space to commit her sin
She makes them drink bear
Just to kill their conscience
Then uses them without being cautious

She likes them wild
Strong like a young stallion
Their hearts  strong as a lion
With so much energy yield 
Courageous to adventure into he world

She gives them gifts
Attends to them in shifts
Leaving them to believe
She loves them when she does leave
To attend to another in need

She is a wanton woman
Always ready to hurt and harm
The young generation of man
When they fall freely in her arm
She is a predator with patience



Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Son of a Woman

o my dear mother, please do not grieve on this tragic death
the death that your son has to under go

although, as a son, i had a strong affection for you dear mother
i hadn’t even once held your hands to comfort you, the hands 
were roughened and chapped from the toils and worries 

my affection toward you was never less worth than anything else
in the world, i couldn't show my affection because it was not the time 
for me to express my own feelings

nevertheless, since i am a son of woman
i became a lonely reed in the marsh when i stood by riverside
thinking of you, and when i was longing for you my beloved mother
the passing high wind struck and blew me down to earth

dear mother, many nights of miserable and lonely hours in the valley
i dreamed of you with sigh, many nights of cold and dark hours
in the wasteland i was thinking of you with tears

in the valley the rock was my pillow, in the wasteland the dews were
my quilt, and now, i am submitting myself to death as if i have 
reconciled with and unconcerned of it though i am afraid of dying

nonetheless, dear mother, i know your desperation;
when i knelt to earth and fell on the ground because of the weight 
of the cross that is too heavy to bear, you strove not to fall, but, alas,
all in vain, you have fallen on the ground with me holding the weight
of agony that is heavier than the cross i was carrying

for i never showed my passion that of a son to you
it is less painful to die on the cross than to watch 
your restless anxiety at there in a short distance

therefore though i am dying after the fulfillment of my tasks on earth, 
my heart is not easy to see your suffering, which is the mother to watch 
her own son’s persecution, the pain that only the mother 
can know

dear mother, please be healthy till 
the end of the day though your son dies by a violent death; 
dear mother, please live long and thereby the tears well up 
in your eyes, on one bright morning, turns to full of joy 
and flow into the river of everlasting happiness

dear mother, on the surface of earth
‘mother’ is the most affectionate, yet precious name of all i know
and therefore your lonely son’s last wish is to breathe my last breath 
in your tender caring bosom

nonetheless, look at john the disciple who i love stands by you
dear mother, he will take good care of you, he will be your son 
in my stead

o it is a torturous moment; 
the affliction is, o mother, more than i can bear