It’s been eighteen years since I was born.
I grew up chasing a lie called love.
Just a child in third grade,
When Broom’s metal broke me... tore me apart.
A lone piece left on the plate—
Still, it was him you'd nominate.
A pen or a diary—he’d get one.
‘These are his,’ you’d declare,
And I learned... I believed—
Maybe I didn’t deserve to speak.
I was cute, I was adoring—
Yet somehow, you found me embarrassing.
"Just listen, don’t talk," you'd say.
But you'd love my brother from the very first day.
I suffered. I cried.
Still, it’s me who must
Love you without a choice.
But love—
Love isn’t brought by force.
It’s an emotion...
If you’d feel it, pure and true.
You have your life, your thoughts,
Your ways of seeing the world.
But the way you’ve tortured me—
That...
Can never be justified.
Women will say it's men
Men will say it's women
They all throwing
Shades at each other
Defending their gender
Tendering different agenda.
Women will leave their man
Because he cheated
Then go to another man
Who's cheating on his woman
What a irony... Circle keeps repeating
Men will be telling several girls
Same thing but different feelings
Feelings depend on her vibes
Time passes, little misunderstanding
They break up, then go to another woman
Who's probably not satisfied in her present relationship.
I know they're some women and men
Who don't cheat, they're fidelity
Men and women
Keep accusing each other
Thinking they will never unite
But every weekend;
Friday, Saturday and Sunday
There's always a wedding ceremony to attend.
Men and women, who cheats most!?...
Not Anne, But Gabrielle
by Gabrielle Munslow
If you want me to take you to another time,
take my hand.
Don’t furrow your brow.
Slick with storylines,
my tongue twists
like an adder.
Poetry spills—
some good, some bad,
but always real.
I write of suffering.
I write of death.
I write of want.
No pretty, prophetic prose.
But I can still
slip a ditty off my toes.
I am Anne with an E.
No bird.
No net ensnares me.
Still, I rest,
and language thrills my bones.
Time stills—
or quickens.
Language isn’t luxury;
it’s necessity.
Down rabbit holes I go,
deep and twisted.
I braid my breath into roots.
I speak to the dirt,
and it answers.
Once a girl.
Now a woman,
retelling her youth.
I
am not Anne with an E.
I am Gabrielle—
with poems for sale.
?
© 2025 Gabrielle Munslow. All rights reserved.
This poem may not be reproduced, distributed, or performed without the author’s permission.
I dreamed a song —
hush tones and haunted chords.
A woman loved once,
and it grew into a tree.
She watered it with years,
fed it her voice,
slept beneath it,
called the silence love.
And in the final verse,
she hung herself in its arms.
I woke with the melody lodged
between my ribs like a blade.
I turned to you,
my daughters,
my mirrors,
my storms unsoftened by shame.
I almost sang it to you,
almost let it pass
from my mouth into your bones,
like the women before me did —
lullabies lined with
martyrdom in a dress.
But I stopped.
Because I saw your eyes —
not frightened,
but awake.
And you, fierce ones,
you deserve a different song.
Do we truly know
what strength really means?
Is it just muscle and might
or the courage to rise after breaking?
Wisdom isn’t worn on bodies.
Every head holds thought
every mind can lead
so why is wisdom still weighed by gender?
What does care look like?
Is it soft hands and lullabies
or is it presence in pain
a heart that listens when words fall short?
Is shape the measure of worth?
Must strength be masculine
and care be feminine
or have we just forgotten how to see?
Just now I’ve met somebody beaux,
whom I perceive to truly glow
—(oh! anxiety—oh! fitful fret!)—
Somemany beaux (just now I’ve met!)
has flicked a spark of gaiety
O’! Fitful fret! O’ Anxiety!
for outfits worn—For, mask and mark
of gaiety has flicked a spark
to illumine a free soul born
for mask and mark, for outfits worn,
and who’d begun “woman”.—Hu(man?):
A free soul born to illumine.
Can you believe they all are one
(w(h)o)?man: human—and who’d begun
to truly glow—whom I perceive:
they all are one, can you believe?
“It's a girl!”
The female form, the rounded edges
that soothe and nurture
Shaped and created by gentle hands
to fit a shoulder under a heavy arm
Beast of burden
I was formed this way and
now I am bruised and soft
from the many blows life has landed upon me
As ages pass,we continue to strive
to be seen for who we truly are,
not just the labels fixed to our mandatory name badges: “GIRL”, “WEAK”, “EMOTIONAL”, "WIFE", " MOTHER"
We are all of these and so much more.
We are none of these and that's ok.
they forget about yesterday
when the world held our bond and sewed our lips
When our bodies were public domain... were or are?
Will they repeat injustices because they've forgotten?
The world watches us for signs of inadequacies
Do they ever dread the color red?
Or, worse, do they ever pray for it?
"God created man(kind) in his own image, in the image of God created he him, male and female created he them. "
"And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good.
~Genesis 1:31 & 1:27
"In diversity there is beauty and there is strength. "
~Maya Angelou
grateful God created
a vast variety
every face born unique
how boring it would be
if the view out windows
reflected only me
KALEIDOSCOPIC POETRY CONTEST SPONSORED BY NETTE ONCLAUD JULY 2025
We walked under the same sky,
but carried different forecasts.
your silence was a sandstorm
and mine a drought.
Yet we mistook our survival
as our strength.
I was parched with waiting
and you were eroded by wind.
World saw our resilience not the cracks.
How I begged for rain or
How you vanished behind gusts.
They said strong woman is "silent"
They said strong man is "violent'.
Neither of us asked for this climate.
But what if one day, we looked up—
and saw that the sun never chose sides.
I, looking in the mirror yesterday,
witnessed distorted eyes replacing mine;
and, too, the lips and nose, as if a sign,
seemed bent crooked, misaligned in some way.
And, as I, squinting, gazed on that display,
an unheeding hand groped at the outline
of the coldly reflective glass confine.
I watched it slowly mangle the red-clay
body which, lifeless, answered my dead stare.
Tearing tripe from stomach, and from breast
the heart, those fingers worked maliciously,
dismembering each inch of skin less fair.—
I know not who it was who flayed my chest:
I? or that demon called Society?
I know you're a man but
Can you cultivate some humility?
I know you're a man but
Be a man of very good deeds
I know you're a man but
Do you really have to play with me?
I know you're a man but
I can't be who you want me to be
I know you're a man but
Its not fair you play emotional games
I know you're a man but
Do you have to make me feel shame?
I know you're a man but
Seriously does my feelings matter to you
I know you're a man but
One lady isn't enough you need a few
I know you're a man but
Don't view me as a weak woman
I know you're a man but
I'm not a tool i am someone
I know you're a man but
For sure you're going to get what's coming to you
I know you're a man but
You should do to others what you want done to you.
My dear friend, who shines my way,
Lead my steps when I go misguided.
Your words like lanterns in my gloomy night,
Turning all my wrongs slowly into right.
In every second of gloomy night,
You bring the stars to make that things bright.
With kind words and gentle light,
You guide my heart to peaceful sight.
My dear best friend, so pure, so true,
A best friend like you is the greatest gift of all.
Atop a bed of plastic
In a house made of bone
I am helpless to feel Rome’s revival
Men become sheep and wolves
Crusaders line up for war
Careless toward their fellow heretic
Houses burn
Stone pillars rise from foundations
All as the sands of time bury the path forward
Yet even as they do, water still runs in the bath house
Well here we see that something is hot? About as real as
As the (tailpipe an e v's got?) The subject matter is what
You have got.' Either man or woman? Is what i consider?
And whether what is not.' Is what? And why are some termed non binary? Yet are So
Het up on genders.? All in all its such a mind bender! its
Like they want to drink alchol.' Yet be de-intoxicated as they
Do?
Seem absorbed by genders.? That should not be narrated?
By me or you' or any reality defenders.)
Is there anything above?about them; i have missed ?
Maybe they could have a catheter bladder to head
Orifice inserted; so they could vent better ( when feeling
Really pressed.?)
Comes our God motherly, motherly, motherly,
Holding us tenderly when we're in pain.
Comes our God fatherly, fatherly, fatherly,
Strength'ning us daily to face life again.
Just what will tomorrow bring causes me worry
With so many tasks that I plan to complete,
And the thought of it makes me feel weary already.
I lay down my head and then struggle to sleep.
Holy Ghost hovering, hovering, hovering,
Spirit of wisdom to bring us God's peace.
Calming the chaos, relieving anxiety
Giving us courage so faith may increase.
With Jesus beside me as friend and companion
I rise from my sleeping to face a new day.
So whatever the challenges him I am trusting.
Through rough times and smooth I will hold to his Way.
God who's so genderful, genderful, genderful,
Spirit and Son now in union as One,
Shelt'ring us safely beneath her warm spreading wings,
Fending off evil till God's Kingdom comes.
To be sung to the tune of – Blow the Wind Southerly
Specific Types of Gender Poems
Definition | What is Gender in Poetry?