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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 | |

The truth about women

Bestowed with femininity,
     wisdom, elegance, and grace,
     exemplifying dignity, daughter of the human race.

X chromosome integrity
      ordains attributes endowed,
      according by propensity, a nature kind and proud. 
     
Beauty and vitality
     anoint her noble gender,
     magnum opus artistry imparts celestial splendor.

Her marvelous complexity
     gives complementary disposition
     to valiant masculinity for a perfect coalition.

Exquisite physiology
     yields licentious pleasure due
     the wanton sensuality of erotic pas de deux.

Magnificent hologyny,
     woman becomes by thy behest,
     sacred vessel of posterity, with honor ever blessed.


Details | Ode | |

For Mama

She showed me the clouds
and how to walk on the ninth one. A dreamer.
In the absoluteness of her mind, no barriers
exist within existence
as if her battles have
been won. I think she craves to fly,
past those clouds---another possibility
to make possible, a challenge
to challenge. Or dream about.
She probably thinks that when I complain
I cannot see the clouds,
the way she did when things got rough
in life. Of course, I beg to differ.
She dreams. I live. I don't
keep my eyes on clouds all day
as if there is nothing else to see
to make me understand the world better.
I suppose I'll rest one day, exhausted
by the what-ifs and whys, while Mama smiles
and points upward.


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 | Quatrain | |

Women

You women
Know how to make 
The best of what you've got in you
You do it everyday in your life


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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | Free verse | |

Gender Discrimination

Who are you
Your father's son or daughter
Or your mothers?
If you are your father's
You gotta have his surname
But if you are your mother's
Her name you don't take
But once you get married
Oh, boy! Your surname won't change
Hey girls, What makes you change your surname?
This is anomalous
Seemingly unfair
Discriminative
An assault on women rights
A blow to the fair sex
Whoever hath made this rule
He must be a damn big fool!!


Details | Rhyme | |

In Praise of Women

In Praise of Women

By Elton Camp

How thankful I am for womankind.
Who for bearing babies are designed.
If all us men could the same to do,
There might be one, but never two.

It is a thought I cannot abide,
Having another person inside.
To think you, for months, are fated
To wake up each morning nauseated.

There’s nothing to do but to understand
Most of a year, your waist will expand.
And when about halfway done,
Baby starts to have much fun.

He must think it’s quite a trick
To give his mother a hard kick.
And still bigger, bigger grows he
Till mother out of balance will be.

Atop her bladder he does perch.
Up and down he likes to lurch.
To the bathroom she has to go
Most every time the kid does so.

If a baby stood on my bladder,
It would be a serious matter.
It wouldn’t feel so very neat
Being stomped by little feet.  

Then the baby begins to knock at the door.
“You can’t keep me inside here anymore.”
Female pelvis is made quite wide
Between the bones baby can slide.

Daddy’s broad at shoulder and narrow at hip
So there’s not enough room for a baby to slip.
And I now have this final word here to say:
It is just this, “For all women, a big hooray.”



Details | Prose Poetry | |

WORLD WITHOUT WOMEN www

Have you ever imagined the world we live without women?
It is like a lung without some oxygen, agonizing and inevitably dead,
A face never with a smile, boring and unfriendly.
A cup of tea without some grains of sugar, bitter and foul,
A pool without some water, dry and empty,
A good ride on a bad untilled road, rough and uninteresting,
The earth without some drops of rain, an inescapable famine,


But how come with the great number of women on planet earth?
We still live to cry as a reggae legend sang “no woman no cry”,
It is because they permit evil as much as they permit good,
Gullible and instrumental in the hand of the wicked ones,
Ugly and nice, beautiful and dangerous,
Cunning like serpents, deceitful like chameleon,
Holy but liars, having a form of godliness but highly ungodly,
Lovely like little puppies, sweet like bees honey,
Women, an invincible force in our our world today.

(c) 2010


Details | Narrative | |

Hostile Times II

Hostile Times II
By Nate Spears
	

Busted love is my Crystal Ball's fortune
My heart hurts in a torturing way
Nothing ever works in my favor
Standing still 
I lower my head and pray 
Confessing to God 
All I have to give

A 16 year old rebellious daughter
A 13 year old son that’s dead
My father is in prison; so is the one of my two kids
Is this really a way of living?
I didn’t have a choice from the days beginning
Anything different
Would have a given me a chance
at living

Walls of barriers bearing on us 
On this earth we stand
Refusing to let go of this curse
If no bill is signed by Congress
My unemployment runs out next Thursday 
Now I contemplate what’s next?
Sex dollars or Creflo's Dollars?
Be an honest woman; or
Be a fool that’s starving?
When pushed to the limit
All governors are discarded.

Hostile Times rains upon us
Other nations joins the honors
The Elite makes me vomit
There’s plenty of resources among us
God have mercy and let it trickle down on us
Rather than become degrading
In this pew 
I choose prayer
Becoming Sunday Mornings best
Washing away my pains that become abreast; with my chest
Bringing in a new day, 
A today, 
For a better way
In these hostile times we live in.


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 | Prose Poetry | |

Warrior

The strength of a woman
Is not in her tongue
Or the length of her hair
Or the songs she has sung

Control is not found
In the clothing she wears
Or seduction she offers
Or the child that she bears

Her honor and glory
Comes not from what shows
Except her reliance
On God that she knows

For God gives her power
Beyond height and length
And makes her much stronger
To display her strength

It’s there deep within her
And flows through her being
Revealing a boldness
And strength we are seeing

For man cannot crush
All the things she can do
For she is a woman
And warrior too


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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | Free verse | |

Retro - The Ever Fashionable Oppression of Women

A modern trimming,
Grin and bear it.
The slap of a buckle,
Reminiscent of the squeeze.
Laces bloodied,
From a prayer of acceptance.
Breathing is optional.

The shove to a corner,
Start early for pattern recognition,
Bind the idea prematurely.
Numbed pain,
Limited motion.
Embrace wind through the long locks,
It's only an illusion of progression.


Details | Free verse | |

To the lion-haired girls

I want to tell you
to keep your curls
but the allure of it
will find you one day.
You will spend hours
just to run your fingers
down the length of it,
and when you gaze in the mirror
you will see you,
but a different you,
sexy,
womanly,
tempting.
You will put on red lipstick,
and the lowest cut blouse you have,
push up your breasts
as the strands waterfall down.
You'll pucker your lips,
just a little more,
sway your hips,
just a little more
and the men will say,
you're so beautiful,
I prefer you this way.
I want to tell you
to keep your curls.
They are wild,
lion-formed,
complicated,
full of truth.


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.