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Best Woman Poems

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Details | Woman Poem | |

PINK LACE

**Every pace change --is the voice of a poet sharing his/her view** 

"PINK LADIES"  
  
The phone rings, 
The clock dings,

I scream, scream, and scream:

I can’t grasp what is real
I can’t inhale the lives you steal
This game is like murder in the first degree,
I can barely feel the words you're expressing.
Your hand, holding on to mine, as if it was the last
I crawl I hide behind these moonstone walls
There it hid and robbed my Womanhood
Pink is the ointment rubbed inside my diary.
---

I crawl- I remember-
Looking through a dream, where the woman wears combat boots
Women ready to kill all confrontation with nukes.
---

I was lost!
Do you know the feeling?
Once you hear, the “C” word your mind starts spinning,
You can’t see what’s going on,
Your smiles soon to be gone,
---

LOOK AT ME!
On this fright night, I bleed
Hold on tight, of the dead of this night
I’m down on my fallen knees,
A secret I can't keep, no longer need
Breaking backs when I mention the word “C.”
It is like getting struck by a freight train
Taking what belong and makes ME me! 
Forgetting the Pink October ribbons, I wore
Taking  time to weave them into the last strand in my red chemo hair.
---

Now here you are,
Standing under the chest
Heavy shoulders a violin press.
No longer needing the little black dress
Skin pink tight leather, now you caress
My eyes are full of tears
Once I discovered the beast came back without fear 
The news blew like a missile in heat
With a fire’s shooting out from the dark
Sweltering me, blazing me,
Leaving the world all ribbon tied.
Dimples and pretty lips, I drop the world with beauty and tissues. 
Filled with  pink ivory issues 
This is the way that I feel, I am real… you are a killer, you are a disease! 
You can sit there and shatter our lives,
With many of us, you’ll discover we are not breakable like glass 
Still, we will walk in high heels strolling through pink valley skies.
With a charm called a Pink Ribbon; -I WORE-
---

- A heavy pink scarf now I wear like a noose, 
Remembering my days have been numbered by you.
---

I PLEAD FOR MY LIFE?
I have no family to lean on
Everybody’s plus my mother is gone
I have no friends by my side
You are the undead: 
Leading some of us into a watery grave
You are like a jack in the box
Hiding until you are found… 
You’re silent until your jobs done...

You made us angry, you made us cry, you killed many of us…
However, you will never come close to a glorious ~Victory~ 
We are  “PINK LADIES,” who  continue to be strong
I will find a way to sew my chest back to it's caressing view!

One day will find the cure,
And, destroy YOU "The miserable ‘Breast Cancer’ Disease" 
"ONCE AND FOR ALL!"


by;PD

Dedicated to all the females of the world. 
((And men whose life touched by this disease))

Details | Woman Poem | |

STILL WINTER

Dead Winter Stray~ By: Poet Destroyer

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

Dead Winter~ By: Catie Lindsey 

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

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


Details | Woman Poem | |

A Cinderella Story

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Details | Woman Poem | |

IN THE MOOD


lately, i have been in this female mood for some kind of abandon, that which exhales the tigress fire out of my lungs digging the veins from a week's' routine movements pruned to the barest of a payroll’s droll… antiseptic cubicles dictate the rags of chlorine-infected lunch where rooms i strut around have nothing except robotic people, same rye snacks, basins of expired coffee and files of schizoid folio.. just outside, the sky coughs of gas masks rendering a paper bag of humanity to suffocate on clanking bones along claustrophobic subways: such a hemorrhaging day waiting for 5pm to hiss, halt ,and heave… i need to dance with the arms of a jazzy moon fondling my back and whistling the tunes of recklesness when all but the spirit lusts for is just a slice of raw breaths spiraling into tangy punches of rockstar blues... spare me the cranky claws of a friday so sore; i alight like a feline dressed in black lace with cabaret wings, feathers splattered on glitzy cobblestones... voluptuous legs hot and wild sniffing sultry lavender scent of friday night’s parade; and the band notes howl, free like me.
Favorite Poem Of Yours Contest of Giorgio V by nette onclaud

Details | Woman Poem | |

Empty

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


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

                                       and silence
                                                 meets my ears.

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


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

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


Details | Woman Poem | |

Mother is Dove

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Details | Woman Poem | |

The Woman

See the woman.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

See her face in your mirror.

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

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

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

home.



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

Details | Woman Poem | |

Goodbye, My Child

Where cradled canyons sing
Of ebony wood in the forest
There lies a gurgling spring
Where cockcrows sing their chorus
To the melody of singsong birds
There I’ve concealed my sensuous words
Filled with befitted signs
The saccharine whiff of my designs

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Where the fogs of night are fountains
Spills of glistened moon ignite
By distant silhouette mountains
We dance with passion of fight
Entwining ancient stance 
Mingling hand in hand we dance
Till the mountains smile on high
Near and far we spring
To pursue the realest of dreams
While the world cries at its seams
Anxious in trouble to cling

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

To where the ridges merry make 
From the beaks of wooden bright
In sparkly pools the ghouls awake
That scarce to stir our night
We watch for seekers down under
Muttering secrets in their soul
We bid them lucks of shivers
Dipping gently in
From reeds that hide a tear of a foal
Under the gentle rivers

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Far away she shall ever churn
The taciturn eyed
She’ll listen no more to turn
To the working mills beside
Or the scrubbing of the barn
May peace weave in her song
She shall wave in the yarn
To a haven known as Belong  

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

For she comes, the mortal youth
To the wild realm of her truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only her tears be found


Details | Woman Poem | |

The Battle

The menace of war in the chaos of life
The peril of ocean when tempests are rife;
The danger of jungle where feral beasts hide
The terror that lies in a mountain slide.
All these things are simple child's play
Or frivolous sport on a summer's day;
These sad battles that rouse and vex
The heart and soul of love and sex.

Struggle and hardship,  beasts of prey
Are there to menace all human clay:
The bird uncaged can take to his wing
But the hazard of love is another thing;
Under the torment of passion's control
Love crushes the body and steals the soul.
A minute of rapture, an age of despair,
These are the gifts of love's warfare.

Always and forever since time began
When man dared woman and woman lured man;
In that sweet peril that prowls and lies
Is a bloodless conflict when eyes meet eyes.
That careless menace, forever sweet
Whose forlorn end, is joy's defeat;
Now and forever till time has passed
On passion's altar, hearts shall come last

Details | Woman Poem | |

FLAVORS OF HER ESSENCE


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

Details | Woman Poem | |

Hermaphrodite - Part II


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

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

Disorientation                        leads to clarity.

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

IT/You/I/We, say:

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


II.

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

"In my sleep?"

"No, ancient boy, young boy."

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

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

How can I be feeling both?

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

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


Details | Woman Poem | |

A Woman's Work Is Never Done

"A Woman's Work Is Never Done",
a phrase that's often heard.
There's a lot of truth that's hidden,
just in those few words.

She has to cook and clean the house
and get her youngsters off to school.
She does the laundry and the shopping
and teaches kids the "Golden Rule".

She drives them to the movies
and attends their school events.
She satisfies her husbands needs,
her life is real intense!

She asks for little in return,
she just does what must be done.
She feels it's all the woman's job,
and sometimes, it's even fun!

So kudos to those women.
Let's stand and give a toast.
They accomplish all these many tasks,
for the folks that they love most.

Next time the phrase is uttered,
"A Woman's Work Is Never Done",
pray that God will bless them all,
each and every one!

Many thanks to all you ladies.
God bless each and everyone of you.




Details | Woman Poem | |

You're my lady, made for me

You're my lady, made for me!

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

I swear to you there could never ever be!

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

Someone else who could be my soul-mate!

Except you, most precious gift of my fate!

Before we even met, I had known you forever!

Since times began, we had been apart never!

From nothing, you changed me to everything!

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

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

You are my sweetheart, O my prettiest wife!

Let me yet once more get down on my knee!

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

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

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

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Details | Woman Poem | |

UNSELFISH LOVE

I was blessed to know a woman in my life
Who faced hard times, struggle, and strife.
A Chinese immigrant, she came from a poor town
Lost her husband, was kept from her daughter, but not kept down.

She had three other children who were born here
Getting them a better life was her biggest fear.
She had to fend for herself and them alone you see,
Speaking little of the language in this foreign country.

But, she had always lived a determined life
So she fought back...with a fork and a knife.
She opened a restaurant in a small community
Where her gracious manner made her friends instantly.

Her children would grow up in town with new friends
The restaurant she opened was the mean to her ends.
She worked very hard...sometimes eighteen hours a day
She never complained because that was her way.

Her life's expectations knew more successes sublime
The restaurant grew...one egg roll at a time.
She once told me of the anxiety she felt at the money she'd spent...
Laughing said, "My uncle said sell 2 qts of Chop Suey/Day...you've got the rent."

She was a woman who chose kindness as she felt had to her been shown
To people far and near her generosity was known.
She was thankful that she had the opportunity
To give back with love rather than animosity.

I first met her over some 30 years back
She struck me from the that moment as a person who had the knack
To make others feel at home though strangers they be
She certainly did, because she did it to me.

I still remember her caring for me...it was shown
Once caught in a blizzard, she opened her home.
So often was there a path to this woman's door
Though she stood, less than 5 foot 4.

Her heart was as big and wonderful as one would want
An earthly angel, she was heaven sent.
Though her health began to wane later in life
She never gave in to that world of strife.

Her eyesight began to fail and it was difficult for her to see
But that didn't stop her or her generosity.
She loved people and filled everyone with cheer
Ever thankful that she had had a life here.

Though she is gone I'll never forget her face
Or her love of life, devotion to family, and unstoppable pace.
To me I'll ever be thankful to have had the joy
Of calling her "Ma" ... ONE IN A MILLION~was Connie Moy!

1st Place Winner - "One in a Million" Poetry Contest


Details | Woman Poem | |

LOVE STORY

LOVE STORY
The breeze is in my hair. The moon is gleaming behind me. The love I feel is everlasting. Cadence of my soul. Show me your happiness Share, my love. Laugh with me Our destiny is mixed with pleasure. Our essence treasured. Come walk with me in the garden. Alive - Let's reach our ultimate…high. Smile, darling smile Kiss me with your eyes. Forever we are. Champagne we drink To toss our uniting. You feel my sylph A fulfilled spirit. This journey succumbs me. I am free for you to love. Embrace your ideas Let the breeze come in. Dance to the ecstasy. Release all your fears. Capture this time As our minds, intertwine. Laugh with me Inflection of my soul. Show me your happiness. Share, my love. A majestic dynasty Our empire In time Now! Here we stand You and I forever. No obstacles have formed. You are my one and only. Woman, smile Kiss me with your eyes. Forever we are. Thrive - Let's reach our ultimate…highs. This is our life... Together This is our existence... Forever Ardor love Justified by God Come walk with me in the garden As we write our love story.
MY PHILOSOPHY
Man is man. His skin is what makes difference. His upbringing differentiates. This is, he states, “God's way.” DARK SUNSHINE - VSW _________________________________________| PENNED ON AUGUST 03, 2014!

Details | Woman Poem | |

The View

        THE VIEW 
(A sad point of view)

I can't believe he has to be a poet
To tell you how he feels
Maybe he does not know it
Words written on paper don't really heal
Do not tell her you are sorry
When your apology is not real

To be or not to be?
That is the question you should really ask.

The man should never call himself a poet
Unless he has lived, learn, lost, and gained it all back

The man who writes good poetry
In my eyes is a man of art
He can paint you anything without a paintbrush
This is the man I call no poet, with a colorful heart

Using all his manly skills
He is way ahead of the ordinary man
Leaving the imagination, filling the soul with chills
He is like the woman who leaves you all aroused

(A sad point of view.)

While the woman swims in her own drown.
She finds herself helpless to suffering worlds.
Without a man she thinks she is lost, nowhere to be found.

The secret of the female is
When she is heart broken
She thinks life is over 
Little at the time she knows
Once a woman feels
She gets right back up to be a lady
When the time calls
The lady is stronger than ever

One thing I learned about a lady 
You better respect her
Don't destroy her better days
She will crumble you up for sure
If the lady says she is a poet 
Than a poet in her

I will never insult a lady
She will crush you where it hurts 
A real lady knows how to control her man
A lady knows how to keep her emotional words real

But the woman needs to grow 
Stop trying to be something she's not
In time she will know
To give it her best shot
I will praise myself and say
"Woman always come and go."
A poet, she can act and play
With fake words that have no flow
  
This is my demo to all poetry freaks
Keep it real!!

by:PD

Details | Woman Poem | |

FEMALE SPIRIT


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

Details | Woman Poem | |

Woman

Crystals fall From her eyes Strong defense Man’s heart melts Knees are bent Gives his best
(Form of this poem: Ellip) Honorable Mention Contest: Latest Poem Judged: 6/9/13 Sponsor: Poet Nathan

Details | Woman Poem | |

Hey you

Hey you

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lisa Duggan 17 August 2014.


 



Details | Woman Poem | |

Civilians-Guernica

.
                    Awomancarries a lamp through the window
to illuminate theendlesschaos 
                    withintheroom
 
Lot of lost souls
run one into the other
How to distinguish one from the other?
Only pain and agony
and irremediably, inevitably, cowardly
:death
Innocent civilians

Over the horse’s head
One light bulb singles its sorrow
there is a skull in its nose
an eventuality
Is it a light bulb?
or a shining sun?
or a watching eye?
Another woman look at it blank minded
without time to pray
without time

There is a dove in shadows
like a symbol
like a witness
One flower grows next to
a soldier's arm 
can't drop the sword

A bull, a horse, and a woman screaming knives
without target
In her arms there is a dead child
a dead child, a dead child, a dead child
Somebody raises his arms on fire
fire from above and below

Dead or dying
people and animals
everywhere
with eyes and mouths open
in horror, in pain
crying and suffering
Innocent civilians
Pablo thought that it happened in Guernica 
but it was Vietnam, Korea, Lebanon, Bosnia, Iraq, Gaza, Pakistan, Afghanistan...

                             

                                                                                            “Guernica" 
                                                                                       Pablo Picasso
                                                                                                  1937 




http://www.3sutun.com/resim/guernica.jpg


.

Details | Woman Poem | |

My day as a woman

When I awoke, a woman I'd become
The spirit of many, contained in one
Strength and beauty, mystical tears
Magical entity, who hated mirrors

Looking at reflection, I seen my flaws
Yet in the background, I heard applause 
Others seen me, with much different eyes
I listened too their voices, discarded my lies

The blood of creation, flowing in my veins
A brave warrior, a vision with brains
Nurture and strength, complicated friend
Passion personified, a master of pretend

Layers of lovely, deeper than a well
If you love me, I have a secret to tell
Loyal and fierce, sometimes hiding my face
Push me to far, I'll be gone without a trace

My day has ended, time to go to bed
Still words unspoken need to be said
Yet in the end I turn back into a man
Enriched by women, I am who I am

For Women Only Contest
By: Richard Lamoureux 
Perhaps you will allow me to be an honorary woman 
Either way I enjoyed writing this poem. Thanks for the inspiration.

Details | Woman Poem | |

ANGEL WOMAN



My angel woman, please don’t tear my flesh
come play the strings as hours  mesh,
this lonely chamber ain’t made for one
no funky stardust when you are gone.
Sad moon for me and reddish sun for you;
Life’s a-tumble, with nothing else to do.

I got no rhythm in these eyes so wet
And once you’re back run to me first,
remember the nights’ sweet imploring love
this is your only guy, frantic as evening dove
that missing your pitter- patter feet,
this guy grows crazy teasing your lips sweet.

Your sweet lips, angel woman etched in the sand
this thrill etched in the sand, let’s fly
I’m drawn, drawn by your command
restless am I, losing my mind.

You’re my runaway frolic, ready to fly
like a busy star on ivory sky
changing my time line, you’re hard to get
and this wired-up  head cannot forget
how I bow on wings numb with longing.
Oh angel woman darn miles, miles away
I await our rocking feet to sway!


Craig Cornish's Lyrics Again
nette onclaud


Details | Woman Poem | |

Woman

                 Woman

The stars bestowed your eyes
The moon, your cherry red lips
The sun, that light in your mind
Heaven, those gold finger tips

The oceans surrendered your hair
Your form, fashioned by tides
Rivers tempered the spirit
Where patience and love resides

Strength, came from the mountains
The wind, sweet  lullabies
Volcano’s forged the Passion
That lives in soul filled eyes

But where, oh where is completion
Makes the pulse race and dart
For this, woman must wait
Till a man, gives her his heart.
 

Written 7 Oct 2013

Details | Woman Poem | |

Revive the Breakage

High upon the highest heights I see the most tremulous sight A small girl, fair and tranquil Smiling strangely, sitting still Beneath a sobbing willow tree She recites a verse upon her knee She sings a rhythmic hymn Not of death, nothing grim But prays that life will return Even for those who are doomed to burn The girl is a woman now Beneath the tree and upon the cloud She whispers, “I am watching you” Why then are you so blue? A single tear of sadness and joy Rejuvenate the quirky earthly boy Who sits down beneath the blooming tree Listening to her silent voice attentively She reminds him she was once young too That she also was a misty shade of blue But when the boy grows into man He has come to ignore the fair woman Who watches him still from above Burning and swelling with disdainful love The ways of the world have sweltered his heart And time has torn his soul apart Thus he has lost all innocence and light Battling his sinful lust—an endless plight! I watch as he feeds on others’ pains and fears Reducing the vigilant woman to tears The prayer of the innocent has been ignored Life has died and hellfire stored Into the hearts of the impotent In blue, fires of haze their heart is sent Toiling in misery and lament Savaged and severed by our regret The heavenly woman grows old and frail And the man still treads the sinful trail As the rotting tree withers into dust Can I revive it? –I must! Low as low can possibly be I watch myself condescendingly A tombstone, gray and hell-bent Frowning knowingly in bewilderment Above the dust that once was a tree She cries out a verse anxiously Faintly she whispers the undying hymn Not of happiness, nothing of whim And prays that life will come to end For those that break instead of bend

Details | Woman Poem | |

Together, At Last

Setting: A man and woman are reunited in a garden after an unbearably long separation. From the viewpoint of the man.



Now the sun is slowly rising o'er the mountains
And it lights a sea of diamonds on the flowers kissed with dew
It is shining golden beams into the garden
And they cast a shade of auburn on your hair of golden hue

So here is what I have to say:
The flowers in their beauty have seemed to fade
And here, these diamonds seem to be afraid
At sight of you
The trees, though standing strong and firm
Could not be half as staunchly ever true

While here upon the grass I stand
I'll hold your hand
And then we'll stroll about this garden for a day
I'll hear you say
The things that I have longed to hear
And perhaps we will share joy and tears

Being here by your side
Makes all cares to subside
For I know winds may blow
But the past is washed away
Now I'm here, and I'm here
Foreverlong to stay
Or so I pray

Now the sun is slowly setting in the garden
And the shades of fiery gold and orange have changed to grey and blue
The moon shines in your eyes this starry night
And words can't seem to tell the love I have for you.


~This was written for the contest "Lyrics To Le Jardin D'Adonis" sponsored by Craig Cornish.
Here is a recording of the tune: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILm89xCyHQo
Written by Isaiah Zerbst on May 20, 2013