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Mother Women Poems | Mother Poems About Women

These Mother Women poems are examples of Mother poems about Women. These are the best examples of Mother Women poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Narrative | |

Will You Tie My Shoes When I Grow Old

You were beautiful, 
my tiny child, 
wrapped tightly in my arms, 
close to my heart.
I listened to you breathing.
I counted your fingers
and your toes.
Helpless, 
you cried out to me
and I loved you
with every ounce of my soul.

Will you hear me
when I cry out? 
Will you hold me close
as I held you then? 

I remember the day
You took your first step.
There was no stopping you.
Your feet gave you freedom
to explore the world
like never before
but danger lurked.
I opened those doors anyway, 
cautiously, 
and introduced
you to the world.
Where will you be
when my legs
no longer run? 
no longer work? 
Will you realize
that I love
freedom too? 

I laugh
about that day
you first tied your shoe.
We tried and tried
to get that rabbit
in that hole
and you finally did it.
You pointed your toes
for everyone to see
how proud you were.

I am proud too, 
of my writing
and my drawing, 
of my needlework
and my cooking.
But my hands are beginning to ache
and my fingers will not bend.
I will lose the things
that make me proud
except for you.
Hopefully not you.
Will you let me
brag on you? 
Even tell wild stories
that are a bit beyond the truth? 
Will you be proud of me too? 

I waved good-bye
that morning when you left
on that large, yellow bus.
I was so scared.
I know you were too.
You waved at me bravely
through the dusty window
but I saw the water
forming in your eyes.
You came home, however, 
full of pride and joy.
You sang the alphabet song
and got most of it right.
You practiced for hours
until you could sing it
even in your sleep.

But 
I'm afraid.
I forgot
whether I took
my pills today or not.
I forgot
if I told this story before.
I even forgot once
who you were
and it terrified me.
My mind
is my treasure
the only thing I have left, 
and I heard you make
fun of me
for not remembering
that I gave you the
same gift as last year.
Will you love me
when I no longer
know who I am? 

You came home blushing
from the glow of
your first kiss.
Your first love, 
the one you thought was real.
You talked about him non-stop.
You changed for him. You gave.
But he left you anyway
for a blue-eyed girl
and I held you
while you cried for him.

I too have a
broken heart.
The love of my life
left me after
fifty-six years.
He left me here
to live life on my own
while he moved on
to another realm
And I cry for him too.
I long for his shoulder
and strong embrace.
I feel betrayed
because he and I
made a deal
that we would never
leave the other alone.
Yet I am alone
sitting in an echoing house
with no hands to hold.

You welcomed her home today- 
your tiny baby girl.
She has your eyes
and possibly your toes.
I see you counting them
as they roll me
into the room.
You finally came
to visit.
It has been a while.

You look up at me
with tears in your eyes
and ask
almost desperately, 

"Will she tie my
shoes
when I get old? "


Details | Rhyme | |

To hurt a woman is to hurt God himself

A woman belongs to God, not to man
Created from Adams rib
She was made to be by man’s side
Not above or below or just a ride
She is not to be treated any lesser
She is the life giver
Yet man continues to test her
She bares the pain that no man can bare
Man should be fair and care
To see that in today’s world is unfortunately rare
How much more can she take
Overtime she has cried and cried 
Man is blind to this because of his pride
Man should protect and provide
Her sorrow will not end but continue into tomorrow
To hurt a woman is to hurt God himself


Details | Rhyme | |

Sentinel of Strength

* This one is for my Mommy, her Mommy ETC- the lucky ones.


Nourishment- encouragement.

Minister of all heart's treasure
Donor of the kindest pleasure 
Infinite love, no measure
Powerful embraces, your leisure.
 
Sublime being, forever proud
Never shallow, nor a shroud
Instructing all, love you vowed
Quiet sentinel, strength so loud.

Upon weary days, you'd not smother
Heart enriching, me 'n' my brother
To adore you, there in no other
Divulging to all, the perfect Mother.


This one is for the unlucky one's who have or had no choice.

O' girl born to royalty
From the moment of birth, 
Preened for the aristocracy
Prospect to a King's loyalty-

Fed from another's breast
Mother was busily searching for
your future husband's crest.
Princess's every movement planned,
even to whom would be given her hand.

Aged of thirteen years, 
a fountain of ideas was becoming hers.
Learned in languages, yet 
to never have a tongue
Driven to madness
O' so very young.

"All that is expected of thee
is to be wife and Queen, in this land
of unity. Bear sons and speak not
a whit, after all... you are but a 
woman, silly twit." Her Father, the 
King explained that eve 'fore her nuptial.

"But Father, I know not even who he is!"
The frightened Princess softly spoke.

Yet the argument was always the same.
She was to wed the King of a strange land,
to go with him as always planned.
She was to forge the union of Kingdoms.
To do as told and enjoy all that is grand.

The day of the Union, she met her 
betrothed, walking down the isle
He stood there , some fifty years old,
large, pasty, expectant and with a vulgar smile.

And all her fears, even within her 
young years- drove her instantly mad.
In a rage, she died then and there
rather than to be locked in her Royal 
cage.


These are akin to so many women and mother's alive to this day.
Never should these women go unnoticed.


Details | Free verse | |

SHE'S A MOM,SHE'S THE ONE

She's the one who carried you in thy womb.
Every day she counts until you grew.
A happiest moment she ever had,
Is when she first touched your little hands.

She's the one in charged to everything.
Twenty-four-seven,her duty never ends.
Do the house chores,nanny and cook.
Doesn't receive  salary for her hardwork.

She's the one who kept tears in the night.
Just to assure a family will keep in sight.
She endures all heaviness this life has bring.
To keep her children away from fears.

She's the one  gives unconditional love.
Forgive our sin, no matter how it hurts her heart.
She has a bag full of smiles.
A hug and kiss is all that she wants.

As she gets old, please love her back.
Repay her hardworks and multi tasks.
Take care the way she did for us.
We'll be a mom too,and do what she does.




~~ Dedicated to all Souper MOMs~~

**HAPPY Souper MOMS DAY!!!! **


Details | I do not know? | |

Happy Mother's Day--God's Blessings to all Women--Your Mother and Mine

Your Mother and Mine
Tis Every woman
Whomsoever helps 
Any children.. anytime

Looks after them
Fixes and gives
them something to eat
Cleans them up... 
to smell sweet

helping them to live
and grow.. 
guiding their ways
Edifying thier lives
Within these earthly days

Your Mother and Mine
Always spending their time
Taking care of any children..
Giving from within their hearts
So Children can go on living
 
helping with childs needs
Fixing up 
their skinned-up knees
helping them 
with their broken hearts
Wiping away tears.. 
helping them cope with fears
Watching them 
grow through the years

As there are many women
Within this world.. Care-giving
Whom is Your Mother.. and Mine
Even some  have children of their own
Some are Grandmothers.. Aunts.. 
Teachers, Preachers, Doctors, Nurses
Any Women.. whom gives tender-love
Even women of the neighborhood tis Mothers

All the women whom tend.. 
to look after any children
whom go out of their way
bringing compassion with smiles 
giving many children..  Love everyday

God's Blessings are giving 
within the hearts of many women
Whom choose to be.. for many children
even when they have their own..
These women are tis as I see..
God's Blessings.. of Many Mothers

There are many children
Whom seek so many women out
Whom they choose to call.. them their Mother
Whom shows them Love.. Tenderheartedly giving
For I know.. this without a doubt
For many children come to my house
They.. as All Children are.. Blessings
God gives in many ways.. all women Blessings of Children

Your Mother and Mine
Children say this to me all the time
Motherly Love.. is giving by God above 

Happy Mother's Day!!! 
To All Women.. 
Even Mother's as Mine whom already gone to Heaven.. 

Dedicated to You.. Momma.. 
as You always be.. My Mother 
and many.. You had given Love.. Tenderheartedly unto
Tis be.. Your Mother and Mine...
                                                 "I Love Momma"


Details | Ballade | |

A Mother Like No OTher

I sing of a special mother
One like no other
One bothered about another

A mother who smiles and care
One who did nothing but share
It is great to know she is always there

When tear drops she brought a toy
Her whispers sparkles unceasing joy
Her love is stronger than the Helen of Troy

You taught me from wrong to right
You taught me the difference between darkness and light
You taught me to recite the Lord’s Prayer day and night

Envelope yourself in a mothers Love
For she is like an angel from above
Never trade her love for the price of a dove

As we celebrate all mothers in a special way
Thank you for your fidelity, even when we went astray
And above all, thank you for what we are today

He grants the barren woman a home, Like a joyful mother of children.
Praise the LORD! Ps 113:9


Details | List | |

Qualities of Health Engendering Women

They see strengths
Not the limitations
These are people who will make you proud of yourself
They will tell you why you’re special
Trust you to the point you have to answer their expectations
They make you better than you normally are
You can be proud of yourself
They respect you 
For what you’ve done
Where you’ve come from
They see what you’ve experienced something real
Respect you for your courage
They live by their rules
They do not expect you to follow theirs
They are at peace to themselves
They are not proving anything to you
They are good listeners
Sincere in their interest in you
You feel important
They are available for honest
Genuine discussion
Makes you want to share yourself


Details | Classicism | |

My Weakness made perfect

As we have all come to know and accept
That within certain parameters we find ourselves trapped
It’s either you’re stuck with wearing pants to rule and impress
Or socially considered inferior and wearing a dress
Well, I for one, fortunately belong to the latter
However, at the excruciating sensation of being perpetually overlooked, I shudder

For I know my worth exceeds that of just another fine lady
A woman who ignores harsh Reality and hides behind a smile, looking dandy
A conformist, being looked down on by what is called a man
So from this awkward position of helplessness, to remove myself without delay is my plan
This feeling of constantly being emotionally and socially dormant
Exhausts me – utterly drains my energy, to be used as a dusty doormat

Then carelessly, I am cast into a sea of vulnerability
Viewed by society as a mere object of instability
I, being of greater value, will remove myself from behind Male’s shadow
For I refuse, the social norm of this world, to follow
Even though seen as nothing, for myself I have respect
And to the world, my greatest strengths I shall reflect

Because I possess rare beauty that goes deeper than the skin
So onto my strengths, I shall trustingly lean
Where man exhibits his pompous ways I humbly outshine
For I am a woman of worth and that, the beauty in me shall always define
As a woman, I am made perfect in my weakness
For I thrive, where man tries his best to impress


Details | Rhyme | |

Mother

She is strong but also weak
with that beautiful smile
so graceful and meek
Her touch is soft
and her words ever so sweet
Never a dull moment
always bright and sometimes lenient
with a positive outlook
even when it's clearly out of the books
She wipes the tears, and forces the smiles
touches the heart
and never you dare cross her child
Mother, Mama, Mom, Mommy
the many names that she goes by
All quite fitting for the warrior inside
with the love giving and super healing ways
she never makes a mistake
Even when you thought she was wrong
give it a day and you'll realize exactly what she was trying to say all along ( you soon realize she was right all along)
She is the all knowing, all loving, super talented and magical gift from the God above


Details | Couplet | |

My Mother

My mother takes me to different places
and laughs at all my silly faces.

She runs me a nice warm bath
and helps me with my math.

My mother makes me healthy snacks to eat
and sometimes let's me have a treat.

She takes care of me when I'm hurt 
and cleans me up when I'm covered in dirt.

My mother talks to me about all the dangers
and reminds me not to talk to strangers.

She tells me not to lie
and wipes my tears when I cry.

My mother always brushes my hair
and teaches me how to share.

She claps for me when I'm right
and comforts me in the night.

My mother is 5 feet, 4 inches tall
and she is the best mother of all!


by Ana Espinola Collins

I wrote this poem for children years ago....I thought today was the perfect day to share it with everyone!


Details | I do not know? | |

A Story My Mother Told Me

someone always told me this with tears in her eyes...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)


a wife left South Africa in the 1960’s to join her husband 
who was in exile at the time...

in 1970 the husband was sent by the African National Congress to India to be its representative there...

the husband and wife spent two years in Bombay...

one afternoon the husband fell and broke his leg...

the wife knocked on their neighbour’s door, in an apartment complex in Bombay

the neighbour was an old Punjabi lady...

the wife asked the neighbour for a doctor to see to the injured husband...

a Parsi ‘Bone-Setter’ was promptly summoned...

the husband still recalls his anxiety of seeing ‘Bone-Setter’ written on the Parsi gentleman’s bag...

by the way, the ‘Bone-Setter’ worked his ancient craft and surprisingly for the husband, his broken leg healed quite soon...

but still on that day, while the ‘Bone-Setter’ was seeing to the husband...

the wife and the old Punjabi lady from next door got to talking about this and that and where these new Indian-looking wife and husband were from as their accents were clearly not local...

the wife told the elderly Punjabi lady that the husband worked for the African National Congress of South Africa and had left to serve the ANC from exile...

and that they had left their two children behind in South Africa and that they were now essentially political refugees...

the Punjabi lady broke down and wept uncontrollably...

she told the foreign woman that she too had had to leave her home in Lahore in 1947 and flee to India with only the clothes on her back when the partition of the subcontinent took place and Pakistan was formed and at a time when Hindus from Pakistan fled to India and vice versa...

the Punjabi lady then asked the foreign woman her name...

‘Zubeida’, but you can call me ‘Zubie’...

the Punjabi woman hugged Zubie some more, and the two women, seperated by age and geography, wept, sharing a shared pain...

the Punjabi woman told Zubie that she was her ‘sister’ from that day on, and that she felt that pain of exile and forced migration and what being a refugee felt like...

Zubie and her husband Mosie became the closest of friends with the Hindu Punjabi neighbours who were kicked out of Pakistan by Muslims...

then came the time for Mosie and Zubie to leave for Delhi where the African National Congress office was based...

the elderly Punjabi lady and Mosie and Zubie said their goodbyes...

a year or two later, the elderly Punjabi lady’s daughter Lata married Ravi Sethi and the couple moved to Delhi...

the elderly Punjabi lady called Zubie and told her that her daughter was coming to Delhi to live and that she had told Lata, her daughter that she had a ‘sister’ in Delhi...

Lata and Ravi Sethi then moved to Delhi...

This was in the mid-1970’s...

Lata and Zubie became the closest of friends and that bond stayed true, and stays true till today, though Zubie is no more, and the elderly Punjabi lady is no more...

the son and the husband still have a bond with Lata and Ravi Sethi...

a bond that was forged between Hindu and Muslim and between two continents across the barriers of creed and time...

a bond strong and resilient, forged by the pain and trauma of a shared experience...

and that is why, and I shall never stop believing this, that hope shines still, for with all the talk of this and of that, and of that and of this, there will always be a simple woman, somewhere, anywhere, who would take the ‘other’ in as a sister, a fellow human...

and that is why there will always be hope...
hope in the midst of this and of that and of that and of this...

hope...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)


Details | Free verse | |

DEAR MOTHER

DEAR MOTHER

Dear Mother of all
Sweetest mother of all Time
Queen of the world of women
You never aborted me
You raise me with your hard earn
You teach me the way of the righteous
You Bless me with the blessing of your mouth
Who will I praise if not you
Who will I believe if not you
Who will I trust if not you
You that carry me for nine months
You put me to bed on the 17th Day of the Sixth Month of the Glorious Year
You breast feed me till I am fit for the race
You put together your earning for my first birthday
You work under the sun and the rain just for me to be among equals
I understand it is not easy in this part of the world
Yet you gave me a reason to live
And even though I heard I use to be stubborn when I a little kid
Yet your love for me never ceased
Memories fade me not of my past failure
You hold me close to you and whisper to my ear saying
"Foluso The sun still shine, you can still make it"
No wonder I am reaching my goals now because your Sweet words still live in me
Words are not enough to express how I feel
But I have to tell you this Sweet mother
Ain’t a woman alive that can take my mama’s place


Details | I do not know? | |

The Women



The Women



(for the countless women, names unknown, who bore the brunt of Apartheid, and who fought the racist system at great cost to themselves and their families, and for my mother, Zubeida Moolla)



Pregnant, your husband on the run,
your daughter, a child, a few years old,

they hauled you in, these brutish men,
into the bowels of Apartheid's racist hell.



They wanted information, you gave them nothing,
these savage men, who skin happened to be lighter,

and white was right in South Africa back then,

but, you did not cower, you stood resolute,

you, my mother, faced them down, their power,
their 'racial superiority', their taunts, their threats.



You, my mother, would not, could not break,

You stood firm, you stood tall.

You, like the countless mothers did not break, did not fall.



You told me many things, of the pains, the struggles,

the scraping for scraps, the desolation of separation
from your beloved Tasneem and your beloved Azad,

my elder sister and brother, whom I could not grow
up with, your beloved children separated by time, by place,

by monstrous Apartheid, by brutish men,
whose skin just happened to be lighter.



You told me many things, as I grew older,
of the years in exile, of the winters that grew ever colder.

You were a fighter, for a just cause,
like countless other South African women,

you sacrificed much, you suffered the pangs,
of memories that cut into your bone, your marrow,

you resisted a system, an ideology, brutal and callous and narrow.



Yes, you lived to see freedom arrive, yet you suffered still,
a family torn apart, and struggling to rebuild a life,

all the while, nursing a void, that nothing could ever fill.



I salute you, mother, as I salute the nameless mothers,

the countless sisters, daughters, women of this land,
who fought, sacrificing it all for taking a moral stand.



I salute you, my mother, and though you have passed,
your body interred in your beloved South African soil,

you shall remain, within me, an ever-present reminder,

of the cost of freedom, the struggles, the hunger, the toil.


I salute you!



(for the brave women of South Africa, of all colours,
who fought against racial discrimination and Apartheid)






Details | Sonnet | |

AFRICA

In the kingdom of the Waters
She sits enthroned on its womb
Flanked by the silver facet Atlantic-Indiana
As the barking tides wrestle her marble feet

In the court of the Tropics
She is robed in green foliage of ancient savannah
Adorned with pearls of arid sands,
With ivory mountain and cincture of rift

In the mythic boarder of the Equator
She rests at the footstool of the fierce sun
Comforted by cloud’s tears
And caressed by solemn winds

In the royal neighborhood of Continents
She locks horn with Europe
In the witness of Asia
And her offspring Madagascar 


Details | Free verse | |

My Gift

It turns out, I'm still a little kid.
The little kid who cries.
The little kid who's afraid.
The little kid who clings on to mom.
The little kid who falls every time he runs.
The little kid who gets bruises, wounds, scars--- patching band aids over it.

Now I understand.
I understand why She would leave me, while dropping my siblings off to school
She didn't have enough.
She would come back and bring Champorado. Spaghetti when she has enough.
She would help me dress for school: putting socks over my feet, fix my imperfect uniform, give me kisses for luck.
At times, I would cry when she drops me off.
At times, I would cry with them, every time their parents drop them off.
Most of the time, I would be very happy to see her there, standing, waiting for me.
She would carry me when I didn't have the energy.
She would carry me whenever I'm sick.
She would carry me to show affection.

She didn't have enough.
She works hard every day.
She works hard to keep the house clean.
She works hard to keep the fridge full.
She prays hard to survive.
She prays hard for guidance.
She prays hard for strength.
She raised us with her own bare hands.
She was our father.
She is my Mom.


Details | Narrative | |

Female Companion

                                                     She is so typical
                                                           So critical
                                                   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


Details | Free verse | |

Invisible

They
Are
Among us.
Not alien
But more
Like us than
You will ever know.
They are
Neighbors
Dying
Of
Disease
And 
Hate
And
Grief.
They live
Next door
Behind walls
Built
Not of stone
But of fear.
Hungry
Penniless
Alone.
They are
Stereotypes
Birthing
Children.
Ad dictions
Carving
Flesh from
Bones.
They are
Sold
Into
Slavery
Beaten
By
Other
People's
Philosophies.
They are
Invisible.
But not
To
Me.


Details | Haiku | |

What People Were and What People Are

People were
Many things.
Strange or not

People were
Different and
Odd and fun.

People were
Monsters but…
That’s not all

People were
And still are
Strange and odd.

People are
People. For
life is life. 

Yet not.
Not is lies.
Truth seeps from

Every mouth
Lies, lies, lies
Move, move, move

But somehow
Lies prevail.
Lies are life.

Lies are death.
Lies are homes.
Lies are pain.

Lies are truth.
Yet somehow.
Truth prevails.

Truth is life.
Truth is death.
Truth is home.

Truth is pain.
Truth is lie.
Truth is that.

Lies will die.
Lies will cease.
Nevermore.

Truth will live.
Truth will be.
Forever.


Details | I do not know? | |

Who am I

I am beautiful, intelligent but yet I feel lonely
I motivate myself yet am not a woman enough
By thoughts, imagination I am a woman
But nature disagree with me, who am I?

Oh nature have mercy on me
Make me real and proud to be a woman
A true reflection of neighbourhood, hope, care and love
A key of family but who am I?

Why does it feel bad, embarrassing?
But hope move through my heart
And you mind, give me sad and insecure thoughts of giving up
But land of homeless, motherless and fearless applaud me

For ubuntu the spirit of survival, but who am I?
Without one cry in my arms to show and give hope, life and emotion
Who am I? Who am I?
I am a woman, a community, a pillar and unity
A smile yet heavy inside but strong and brave

Who am I? Who am I?
W- Wonderful
O-Over protective
M-Mother
A-Active
N-Never give up
I am a woman, love and laughter
I am perseverance, I am a woman


Details | Epic | |

Statutory Rape 101

Everybody knows that it's against the law for grown men and grown women to date all of the underage boys and girls,. let alone a 14-year-old boy or a 15-year-old girl. The law also states that any adult who tries to have this so-called "intimate sexual relationship" with any of the underage boys and/or girls would likely go to jail for a period of time and upon release, they'll have to be register sex offenders for the rest of their lives. It seems that those teen girls would rather date men in their 20's or 30s than guys their age and those teen boys would rather date women twice their age than girls their age, as well. but luckily, their parents (the mothers and the fathers) are here to prevent these so-called "May-December" relationships from ever happening, especially when they're protecting their teenage offspring from dirt-bags like these would-be pedophiles. But no matter what the parents do, no matter how hard they try, their teen sons and/or daughters, they secretly continuing dating older men/older women, even at night (midnight, 2 am, or 3 in the morning, e.g.). And the next thing everybody knows, their parents, they will have found out about it; thereby finding them in bed with the adults; their parents should make multiple police reports and pud the cradle robbers behind bars for good. Boy this is starting to look like an episode of "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit" (Season 6-Episode 19-Intoxicated featuring Danielle Panabaker) and an episode of "Snapped," especially when Sarah Johnson killed her own parents in cold blood because she was afraid that the late Mr. and Mrs. Alan and Diane Johnson would send this guy name Bruno Santos to prison or have him deported back to Mexico for statutory rape (by way of dating a then-16-year-old girl). There's no way that those teen boys and teen girls are ever going to get into a bunch of serious, intimate relationships with a bunch of would-be cradle-robbing adults. They need to concentrate on their education and they need to be with guys and girls their age. I mean, one teen boy dating a n adult female? One teen girl dating an older man? My God, their parents will be seriously upset about this. Who on Earth would be dumb enough to fall for an older woman or an older man? And if these would-be pedophiles in the form of grown men and women even attempt to rob these teen boys and girls of their innocence and whatnot, the parents are going to have a problem up in here.


Details | Abecedarian | |

Women

Behold a wonderful being is here
Mind of a lion and heart of saints
Made looking weak but with might so strong
With beauty so serene and exquisite the scene
Created as a guide and companion for men
Created as a creator of other beings
Sacrificing her body and comfort for we
A comforter for the child
And a supporter of man
O' ye mothers of earth
A free gift to even nature itself
Being meek even in moments of stress
What a gift to behold.


Details | Free verse | |

Unspoken Love

She saved herself from pick up lines though she looked vulnerable
She's sooo lovable her heart definition could ruin my poetic abilities 
You cannot put a price on her she's not billable
If only her lips where adjustable my soft poetry would define her inabilities and weaknesses for the mute to scream happily ever after  
She's untouchable i O you an explanation
Her tears tattoo broken spirits uploaded on instagram
She's no twitter baby though followers invite themselves its unbelievable
I could throw nice verses in our conversation but i'm afraid i'm love blind 

I'll tell you more about her if you ask me....ask me nice


Details | I do not know? | |

For Men Everywhere One Billion Rising

1 Billion Rising.

For Men Everywhere.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

Stop!

Stop the abuse!

Of grand-daughters,
colleagues,
daughters,
girlfriends,
partners,
mothers,
sisters,
nieces,
wives,

all women.

Listen!

Listen to the voices!

Of grand-daughters,
colleagues,
daughters,
girlfriends,
partners,
mothers,
sisters,
nieces,
wives,

all women.

Think!

Think of how you treat,

grand-daughters,
colleagues,
daughters,
girlfriends,
partners,
mothers,
sisters,
nieces,
wives,

all women.

Act!

Act now to change yourself!

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

stops when you stop,

the violence,
the abuse,
the rape.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

is perpetrated by,

grand-fathers,
colleagues,
boyfriends,
husbands,
nephews,
brothers,
partners,
fathers,
uncles,

men,

all men.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

stops when us men stop,

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

today, now.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!


Details | I do not know? | |

One Billion Rising

Today we rise.

No more hiding in the shadows,

of culture,
creed,
tradition.

No more silent complicity,

defensive arguments,
sickening pretences,
shabby excuses,

for the actions of men,

brutal and coarse and vulgar and obscene and murderous and abusive.

Today, we rise,

as one.

Today the change starts,

with me,
within me.

Today we rise.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Women

We laugh and cry. We smile and have fun
But even when that is all said and done 
In our hearts still lie the sadness and woes
I guess our brains are too slow to know

No amount of cheer can hold back what we feel
With our souls overwhelmed we each find our way to deal
Whether in anger or anxiety, in guarded fear or open minds 
We know that they are with us, in front and behind

As birds of a feather we are drawn together
Each carrying with us a pain that binds forever
We have become so much more than simply friends
The strength that we carry in us will always mend

Our broken hearts and tradgic tales
The hardships we have endured will make us prevail
We are the women that we are today
Because we let no limits hold us at bay.

Written on the 11th of September as proof of the strength that I see everyday not just in my family and friends but in women everywhere. Not to be cliched but I truely believe that the ones I wrote this for are amazing women that I cherish very much and I hope you can feel it too :)


Details | Rhyme | |

Name the Movie

This was released before many of you were alive.
It was picked as Best Picture of nineteen fifty-five.
The Best Actor Oscar was earned by one who would be
later known on television in "McHale's Navy".
Its title is the same as the main character's name.
He was a single, thirty-something man who felt shame
for why he was not married, and did not have a wife.
His lack of success with women was hurting his life.

His mother always hoped to make her son a bridegroom.
She suggested that he visit the Stardust Ballroom.
So he went there with a friend on a Saturday night.
As his mother said, there were lots of women in sight.
However, as he stood there, he would be filled with fright.
A dance refusal from a woman did not feel right.

Suddenly, another guy stuck with a bad blind date
met him with a proposal that would insinuate
that he take the blind date home so that her man could leave.
This was something our main character could not believe.
The guy's sudden departure left the poor girl in tears.
This event made our hero overcome all his fears.
He followed her out to the fire escape by chance.
When he met her, he politely asked her for a dance.
So the man of this story spent the rest of his night,
with this unattached woman who would prove a delight!
If you would like to know the rest of this fine story,
all I would have to say is, "Go and see the movie"!


Details | I do not know? | |

The Cowardice of the Taliban and The Silence of The Good Muslims

The Cowardice of the Taliban and The Silence of The Good Muslims.


When hot lead tears the flesh of a 14 year old girl,

ripping through her skull,
leaving her to bleed out and die,

does Allah not recoil in horror,

to see His child whimper,
to see His daughter cry.

Where is the indignation,

the anger that often boils over and manifests itself as flags and books and videos are burnt in mass orgies of hollow piety,

where are the voices that scream so loud,
that denounce all but their own creed,

where are the men, the impotent men who crave for nothing more than their fascist egos to feed,

where are the voices that so loudly proclaim,
enemies here and enemies there, always quick to condemn,

where are those voices when the enemy walks amongst them.

14 year old Malala Yousafzai was shot in cold blood,

her crime?

Advocating the rights of girls to an education.

Shame on you, men of bigotry and men of cowardice.

Shame on you, silent and mute accomplices in this carnage.

Shame on me,
for my inaction,

Shame on us all,
who proclaim lofty ideals,

yet are conspicuously silent,

when a 14 year old girl is shot in the head,

by fascist fundamentalist bigots who only worship bullets of hot lead.

Not in my name!

Not in my name,
shall the cowardly men rain down abuse,

Not in my name,
shall the bigoted men light the communalistic fuse,

Not in my name,
shall Malala Yousafzai be shot in the head,

left to bleed out,
while countless mothers' tears are shed,

not in my name,
shall religious murderers,
be left to wander free,

not in my name,
for I dare all believers to open their eyes,
to see!

To see,
the innocence of a 14 year old girl,
wanting only an education,

as the men of the cloth,
prance around with their pathetic self-righteous indignation.

I write this today,
the anger raging in my veins,

yet I fear,

that I shall write more of this,

unless we stand up and say 'no more',

I fear that I shall be writing this again,

until we all,

reclaim the true principles of humaneness,

until we silence the voices of bigotry,
of rage,
of fanatical insanity,

I fear I shall be writing this again,

and,

until the muck-ridden bile,
is not excised,

I shall continue to say,

NOT IN MY NAME!

Or else I shall have nothing,

but my unending shame.



(for Malala Yousafzai, 14 years old, in a critical condition after being shot in the head by the Pakistani Taliban, for her work as a young activist advocating the rights of girls to attend school)


Details | Elegy | |

RESQUICAT IN PACE

Meeting you in the court of dawn,
Yes! We played and cried on life’s lawn.

Mutating dreams to reality the task at noon,
Ordering my trembling steps to the moon
Tearing our fate at dusk
Hands of death task
Earth you depart mot my path
Resquicat in pace and in my heart


Details | I do not know? | |

My mother

she was an angry woman
not much love, 
she wouldnt put up with a man
abusing her, 
the mistake women made then,
prostitution for security,
selling your heart for money,
she regretted having me,
lost freedom,
tied down,
single mom, poor,
abused by the culture,
her love was shown
in that she didnt abandon us,
even though she was tempted,
her mother wasnt that strong,
my heart didnt value that,
i wanted to be wanted, loved.

I saw the other children, 
wanted, loved, rich,
my blinders on, 
rose coloured glasses,
envy, despair, no self esteem, 
worthlessness, less than human,

not expensive enough clothes,
not nice enough car,
"drop me off a block from school"
"I am not shopping at wal-mart"

something i didnt notice then
i have always been blessed with beauty
i never even saw the girls that adored me
too afraid, to poor, to stupid, 

If my mother didnt love me, how could another?
greedy, selfish women, angry, 
years of oppression, and taking it out on me,
the male, the enemy, "no love from mommy".

Now i pay the price for my fathers oppression.
the gay guys arent as wierd as i thought,
at least they are getting laid. 

The women i meet now, 
if i love them
i am not good enough for them
if i use them or tell them how pathetic they are,
they love me, addicted, cant leave. 

On occassion i love a weaker girl,
i see their potential,
usually sexually abused as a child,
they will leave, hate me, 
for my honesty, 
too afraid of love, of closeness,
get pregnant and leave or kill themself,
one or the other, such drama,
If a child wont end their suffering 
then death will. 

What did i do to deserve this?


Details | Free verse | |

The Gracious Woman

The gracious woman is hated
She is not overrated but such a natural one
Morals and values dictated
Through her trials and tribulations her smiles stun
Family and friends created
Stay optimistic throughout the long run
The woman is so courageous
A strong heart is number one
She seems to be contagious
Her relationships are always undone
Her worthiness is outrageous
To find another is dreadful
To lose her is regretful
A woman of this caliber is so special