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.
She floats on the saffron shore,
Holding a bamboo basket.
Her heart beats
Within the shelter
Of peanut shells.
Toys and textbooks ;
Picnics and pampering s ;
All collided on a roadside 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 dungeon of a grave.
Her pale figure walks away with Time Teacher.
FABIYAS M V
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
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
You can tell the song of the girl too afraid to sing
To the beat of her own drum from miles away
Her song has no life
You can hear the song of the suppressor
Who makes that girl afraid to sing
To her own heartbeat
The suppressor’s song is sung loud
And with authority
To cover his own insecurities
You can differentiate between followers and leaders too
The followers sing an old familiar tune
Together so their voices blend
No one can hear individual voices
There is safety in numbers
The leader’s song breaks free
A melody that soars so high
That others look up to it
Some don’t fall into any set category
Their songs weave into everyone else’s
Trying different tunes and octaves
They belong nowhere and everywhere
And don’t stay anywhere for long
Others sing their song on a different frequency
That few can hear and enjoy
But who’s to say the song is good or bad
When we don’t take the time
To tune in and truly hear
The songs of man and girl alike
Flow and peak and weave
Through melodies and harmony
That never the earth will leave
Its so hard to say good-bye but I still cry,
Now that I realize that you gone out of my
life, girl I just can't stop writing poems
about you, I love so much, girl I'm about to
go insane all my days still look like rain,
girl I go through so much pain, I don't know
if I could remember my name, it feels like
I'm about to loose my mind, I know your legs
are tired, because you run through my all
the time, girl, over and over I think about
you, now I hope you see how much I'm still
in love with you.
I do not know?
LITTLE BLACK GIRL
Written By: Famekia Dingle
Little black girl hold your head high,
Don’t look down and let life’s joys pass you by.
You are one of My Father’s creations,
Beautiful and Strong
Don’t you ever let this world steer you wrong.
Stand up straight baby ebony, Stick your chest out,
Walk like you have gold minds diggin in your back yard.
Be proud of who you are and from where you come,
Believe me little black girl God don’t make no mistakes.
Don’t listen to the evil they say or
Allow the wicked they do to stop you.
Cause when you smile the heavens open and that’s a fact.
Go ahead let them hate you for that
Gods got your back.
Don’t think it strange when love passes you and gently lifts your chin,
Little black girl hold your head high
With God you’re sure to win.
Her eyes showed me a way,
Her unique smile let my tears go away,
Her Beautiful face made me to say,
Is this Love, or what???
Started to have feeling of love,
Started to behave nicely and different,
Started to smile when there was no reason to smile,
Still, Is this Love, or what??
Tried to approach her, but felt belittled, lowly, shy,
Tried to ask her for date, but felt afraid, scared, shocked,
Tried to express my love, felt would be rejected, hurt, unheard,
Well still, Is this love, or what?
I can fix anything, why not this thing,
I can talk to any girl, why not this girl,
I can really convince anyone, why not this one,
Came before many girl, why not this girl.
Do please not tell me its just nothing,
Do tell me how to do something about this thing...Love,
Do tell me anything about this thing…Love,
Will there be rejection or appreciation??????????
Let the Deicide commence.
You're a voyeur at best!
Your vampiric heart is beating out of your chest!
And you have slayed the ones whom would love you for anything less
Ready to consume the final fragments of innocence,
And for you there is no forgiveness,
On your knees pleading, screaming to a tyrant in the skies;
The father of lies.
I will never be enslaved in your superiority
The people agree: jaded of your false dichotomies.
Know: I will be whomever nature intends to be
Apollo and I will share our dreams,
and you will be forced to see
I know who you are...
Readily the first to present your scars
Chained by some despot or mental czar
An emotional homunculus in your mind, behind bars
Reluctant to escape - even when proven fake
Your demented mind - depths no one will penetrate!
...And you see me suffering
Not caring of any casualties
Just as long you recieve your safeguard of sympathy
So very wary of the masses and their Anarchy; Liberious ways
Solipsist - Is there no one you can see?
Even if she was presented burning?
Solipsist - Is there no one you can believe?
Even if Sophia was screaming?
Solipsist - Know you have killed and abused me
Imprisoned in your own personal reality
Brown eyes that matched her hair
Sad and unhappy as she stood there
Waiting for her love to return, maybe yes
maybe never, only time will tell
Such sad brown eyes that matched her hair
Tied from behind in the most romantic way
Head slightly tilted gazing down in despair
Looking, but not looking staring into space
Memories, dancing inside her head
As she spoke silently “He promised to return”
Talking to herself said… “I had to believe
What am I to do this is just my grief”
Time is just a lie man invented it to be wise
When two lovers are together
It doesn’t need Einstein.
He gave such a wonderful love
Love only known to a lonely heart
For what is life if not with him, I prefer to die.
Fool I am to think he will return
He’s been gone so long maybe minutes
I was sitting in the crowded train station with time to waste, waiting on the train to take me home on Christmas Eve. A very pretty, young lady, carrying a full backpack headed for one of the only open seats across the aisle from me next to a rather dirty and disheveled older man.
As she removed her backpack to sit down he glared up at her; she smiled a beautiful bright smile and said to him, “Merry Christmas”.
“I don’t celebrate Christmas”, he barked up at her.
“Yeah? Well, that doesn’t mean you can’t be happy on the day that I celebrate Christmas. And I hope the day is merry for you as well.”
“What is there to be merry about”, he moaned, “A bunch of hypocritical religious zealots pretending to be nice to one another while the world goes to hell in a hand basket.”
“Well, at least for that one day, most of us believe the hypocrisy, and even for just a few hours, we practice the morals that our religion tries to instill in us. At least on that one day, for us religious zealots, there is a glimmer of hope that we can save the world from going to hell and, I, for one, believe that is reason to be merry.”
“Terrific! And, what does that get me,” he whimpered.
“Well, what you get is this one time of year, when a twenty-two year old college girl is not afraid to sit next to you; smile at you; and, wish you a Merry Christmas. And, if you just say, ‘Thank you’ and ‘Merry Christmas’ back to her, she just may give you the biggest and best kiss you have ever experienced.”
She stood back up and started to put her backpack back on as he simply stared up at her. Once she was situated and ready to move on towards her train, she stopped; smiled at him again; and, said, “Merry Christmas.”
It seems I was not the only stranger that was witnessing this exchange. All of those around me were perched on the edge of their seats waiting to see what might happen. The old man cracked a little smile. A glimmer came to his eyes, and he said, “Thank you. And, Merry Christmas to you, too.”
The girl leaned down and planted a kiss right on his lips for what seemed like ten minutes. Smiles lit up the faces of all the men, women and children watching this take place. When the girl finally pulled back, the old man was frozen in place with a big ole smile on his face. She adjusted her backpack and started heading towards the tracks. All the men she passed on her way who witnessed this exchange anxiously yelled, “Merry Christmas” as she passed, hoping for a kiss as well.
I looked back at the old man who was still in a dream. Suddenly he caught me looking at him and barked, “What are you staring at?”
I just shook my head back and forth and said, “Merry Christmas”.
“Yeah! Well Merry Christmas to you, too” he shouted.
A Woman’s Worth
By Nate Spears
Her purpose in this world is hurting
She’s never been a designed of perfect
But she is a mom, so she’s super
Then roll up her sleeves ; and
Take care of the kids; and
Making it a home
For a beautiful family to roam
Building wonderful memories
Becoming a woman of worth
Keeping her faith through Christ
Keeping her pace through health
Keeping her sanity through managing
This is a woman’s worth
I’m giving you
Despite of all the stress
She receives her family with open arms
Through all the mess
She’s a fantastic mom
A wonderful woman
Deserving a round of applause
Plus a standing ovation
For always being an American sensation
That held this continent down since day one
Since the Plymouth Rock landed on us
Thank you for her giving
Thank you for her living
Thank you for her children
This is ,
A woman’s worth.
I was just trying to remember the past
trying to remember the good people
and the bad people,
that i came across on my way,
i want you to know
that you are among the good people
that left a good trace in my life,
once again i just want to say thank you
for passing through my life,
is so short but is wonderful
i want you here forever.
My love of poetry started when I was still a five- year old child
When my parents asked me to memorize verses and rhymes
With all my feelings and actions, I recited my poems in front of a crowd
Innocently receiving adulations but not a handful of dime
The first piece I memorized was entitled, “Cradle Hymn”
I was a small girl sent in a poem competition, so naïve
When I’ve grown up , I realized it’s a song lyric with Christmas theme
So, I sang it and started to develop my good voice quite a bit
When I was a teenager, I memorized speech and declamation pieces
My teacher sent me in a poem contest for a campaign against drug addiction
I tried to deliver my piece like a candidate for a star award actress
Acting like a drug addict teenage girl longing for parents’ love and attention
As years went by, I turned out to be quite a flirty lady
With puppy love and sweet crushes to some guys around me
When one of them got me, so happy until I forgot all about reciting poetry
Relationship went long but when we broke up, it created another life’s story
All my heart brokenness has turned me out to be a poem writer
I also wrote few poems for my family, dreams and for close friends’ requests
My passion of poetry blazed and turned out to be greater
When I found a writing spot, motivated and inspired by my friends-the great poets
Feb. 6, 2013
Contest: Who What Where
Sponsor: Poet Carol Sunshine Brown
Such an Amazing girl god put into my life.
He knew i needed you at that exact time
Funny when we met I thought you were to good for me
But when you approached me the sweetest girl I did meet.
From that day on we have never truly been apart cause I
carry you around everywhere in my heart. You have been the
rock when I needed a friend around, you have been the light
when the darkness consumed me and took away my sunshine
Even when were miles apart the phone connects us and keeps
our strongest bond. 17 years feels like such a short time but
I feel I have always had you in my life. Soul Sisters we were
meant to be.. You my beloved friend are such a fresh breeze
Even after a year apart it was like yesterday that we did part
so through the many miles and through the long hard road
I know this friendship will always survive. Your a burst of joy
to me each day I thank the Lord for the sweet blessing he gave!
Prayer Poem Dedicated to Malala of Pakistan
Malala has dedicated her childhood to championing education for girls like her in Pakistan. As she lies in a hospital bed, a tragic victim of Taliban gunmen, let's help make her dream come true.
Pakistan's constitution says girls should be educated alongside boys, and the government has the resources to make it happen. But politicians have ignored that for years, influenced by extremist religious groups, and now, only 29% of girls attend secondary school. Study after study has shown the positive impact on personal and national income when girls are educated. Courtesy Avaaz
I have Twitted My Photo Poem on 17th Oct 2012 for Malala
A Prayer to God (Khuda)
Let knowledge & education
Touch and shape the dreams
Of every girl child
Let the flowers of real Happiness
As it blooms, on the charming face of Malala
Touch the smiles
Of every citizen of Pakistan.
Let the light of Khuda (God)
Flashes on the minds
Of all the citizens of Pakistan
Who want to see
A prosperous and Happy Pakistan.
Let education and knowledge
Bloom to spread their fragrance
For all the Girl childs
Of India and Pakistan.
Kanpur India 17th Oct 2012
Note: I pray to God to save the life of this precious girl Malala, who was trying to save the lives of hundreds and thousands of girl children of Pakistan from getting lost in the darkness of Illiteracy.
Never had a way with words, no matter how I tried,
Each time I met a girl I became tongue tied.
In my mind I had it sorted, knew exactly what to say,
But as I tried to speak, I knew I had lost the day.
The opportunity was often there, of that there was no doubt,
But the bit twix brain and lip, stopped words from coming out.
Maybe if I was good looking, an athletic sort of guy,
They would see me differently, I wouldn't have to try.
But when I was a lad of seventeen, six foot, thin, with spec's on,
The army taught me how to fight, girls, they made me numb with fright.
T'was many years before I met the girl who was for me,
Love at first sight, an old cliche, was very true for me.
She untied my tongue, gave me a song, I was weak but she was strong,
I loved her then and love her still, a union made by Gods own will.
Family looked and sneers were passed, they said it wouldn't last,
How wrong they were, we're together still, more than forty years have passed
© Dave Timperley 2013
She is so typical
For most part difficult
I never really could grasp her in such way
She just wants me to some how stay
She comes to my man cave and makes me obey
Shy she was and now I am scared
In such way I almost cared
She thinks she can do everything for me I swear
She makes me guess everyday but I keep on believing
Because it is fun to give her a kiss, while she does not know when she is sleeping
She stresses out but I will tell her my love for her keeps deepening
So for the most part I just keep her close to make her smile and me
When I do things I do it for her it is always a key
Call me romantic or call me stupefied, but it makes her so, so, sooo, happy
Four letters put together to create one word,
with an impeccable definition.
It is a strong word,
Close to the heart, yet
far from the woman you Love.
Butterflies flying, flapping their
orange and white wings in the summer heat.
The butterflies flap, flap their beautiful wings
together in the summertime of Love.
For Love is beautiful, like the summer preludes!
Four letters composed, to a Chopin's masterpiece.
The Romantic pole reaches out, to touch, to hold, to Love.
For these four letters are easy to read
and put together to create a complex concept
with a universal definition.
A four letter word, easy just to say,
but it is harder to show.
For Love is a simple word made up of simple letters,
but a complex meaing that takes most lifetimes to comprehend
and others a short while.
For I've seen hearts broken
and hearts put back together,
with this simple word.
My heart burned, brused, stabbed
knows the dangers of this simple, four letter word.
Love, some think it is a game
to play when you are bored.
Destroying self-esteem of girls,
who are already weak and nieve.
They long for love, but find surrealist dreams,
and see the Man of their dreams slip away in the night.
Gone without a trace.
While she is sucked into false promises,
from simple minded boys,
with only one thing on their mind.
Love..., it is a joke to some.
"I love you," is a laughing stock,
while a slap in the face, and disrespect is in fashion.
Girls, foolish girls walking in lonesome heartbreak,
saying they are in Love.
It is sad to see, and hard to hear, I know it is.
And to me Love is sometimes fair,
and most times a cruel joke.
Love, this four letter word is simple to say, but hard to comprehend.
Love me and I shall take you by the hand
show you caves of mystery,
and skies of grace and meadows, filled with flowers,
dedicated just for you, no one else, but you.
We can make Love on the sandy beaches, under the moonlit sky
under the still stars and shooting ones too.
Have a romantic dinner of oyster-shells and champange and kiss each other,
till we drown in intoxication and fall asleep in each others arms.
huh, Love... A simple, four letter word, that is easy to say,
but even harder to show.
I have dreams too
I have hopes too
I have plans too,
I cry too,
I laugh too,
I fail too,
I succeed too,
sometimes my world is
in black n white too,
sometimes so coloured
I make mistakes too
sometimes am so right too,
I pray too
sometimes I just forget tom
I care too
I try hard sometimes too
I relax sometimes and
just let things be,
I'm just like you,
you'll never find another
VIRGINIA like me,
JUST LIKE YOU.
Your love pricks me like a rose each thorn grows but no one knows Your so full of
it as it shows so carry on now go on, go. I'm fed up with the phony and i'm
through with the tears, you couldn't pay me all your money to make up for those
years. Someone help me I feel faint how could I think he was such a saint and
worst of all I let me fall into a spiral down below. A magic called love carried
by the dove of someone I use to know.
A Girl and a boy both go to music school.
The boy and girl get an audition for a Record Label.
The both go to the audition and both of them get the chance to go and record there own album.
The audience loved them and all the judges voted for them both to win the audition.
They both go back to there homes in the ghettos of Brooklyn New York City.
The boy was warming up for the Record Label by singing. The girl was also doing the same.
They both take off at the same time from there houses.
They both get on the same train and ride together.
They both see one another and walk up to each other and shaking hands and nodding at each other as a signal to sing in the train in front of everyone.
The boy pulls out a stereo out of his back pack and turns a a song and they begone to sing while all the people on the train looking at them and smiling. even all the gansters and emo's were looking with an aww.
The boy and girl got so into singing together on the train that they got really close and personal, making it look like they were singing to each other.
They touched each other and almost looked like they were about to kiss.
The train stopped and they both stopped singing to each other.
They both got off without saying anything to each other and went there own way's.
The boy met up with his boys and went to the ally to smoke some weed before the recording starts, and the girl went off with her girls to do a touch up on her nails.
Again they start walking to the studio at the same exact time and showing up there at the same time.
The girl gets to the booth first and than comes the boy right behind her.
Than the boy says, "wait am i singing with her"? and the answer was "yes".
The girl was already in the singing booth and the boy and his friends came and started laughing at her in the booth.
The boy got mad and went into the booth to show his boys that she is hella good at singing.
The both stand right next to each other and being hearing a melody comes out from the song No Air, by Chris Brown and Jordan Sparks.
The girl started singing first and the boy followed right after her.
The boys friends had there jaws dropped by the amazing voice that they both make together.
The DJ had a smile on his face and everyone was stunned by the way they sound together.
They both got really into it and started do what they did in the train.
By the end of the song people were crying of what beauty they just heard.
It was a day in springtime in the valley
All the Elves and fairies gathered round
Today it was the coronation morning
Fairy Princess Tinsel would be crowned.
As blackbirds and some thrushes in the treetops
They warbled out a happy sounding song
The crickets and the frogs joined in, in chorus
You could tell that there was something going on.
Fairy Princess Tinsel, she was lovely
And on this very day she would be queen
And all the woodland people were ecstatic
For such a caring princess she had been.
So then the valley's filled with happy laughter
As fairy dust did sparkle everywhere
For Princess Tinsel soon she would be ruler
And oh, that lady was so very fair.
And as I end this story our Queen Tinsel
Has married her the prince who now be king
And peace and happiness does rule the valley
Which now they call "the land of everything".
21 August 2013 @ 1635hrs.
pretty amazing to behold,
once of a llfetime story never before been told.
behind all the biggest miracle:
there is a woman in every age,
blessed above all the rest of the mother's,
from the beginning,
ever since time began,
you journeyed and fought a good race,
besides everything that we do,
you are a mother, wife, sister, aunt, and grandma,
because of you,
I am not lost.
you found me on low,
you stood by me in every hurt that I cost.
mother of all heritage,
you beloved are a blessing of all miracles.
As i sit here wondering, thinking
i write everything that comes to my head,
Then almost instantly I feel a certain pungent dread.
This is my life therefore i must accept it,
I'm an ordinary island girl, a girl of the world
yet i do not feel defined by who i am
i am exotic, my wavy hair flows
my small eyes dart and with my voice i sing like a lark.
Beautiful i am. I am beautiful.
and yet i really don't know who I am
is my olive skin with yellow hues the true essence of me?
it certainly is my individuality.
I am every girl out there that hates to love their hair
their skin, their diversity and not really being one or the other.
I am, I am that sea breeze, fresh like a rose with dew.
beautiful and delicate.