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Violence Women Poems | Violence Poems About Women

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

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Details | Free verse |

The Sowing

Upon the wind sheltered hillside,
the sharp tang of metal and the sting of salt air lay
over a field of blood-red poppies, no Flanders Field.

At years fall, fields of rape roll like waves,
in the harshness of winter-sleet, stray boulders bow,
like the backs of mothers, and daughters sowing.
Their nails torn, ragged, and bleeding.
They bleed by the moon, and son, upon the fields.
No white crosses mark their passing.

For hundreds of years, and crops of rape, barley and wheat,
small hands, soft hands, and soft thighs bleed.
They bleed daughters, and sons.
They birth the fields by consent or rape and in the fields 
unadorned by silver stars or purple hearts, they writhe.

Today, as May's sun wakes the blood blasted pasture,
each precious drop blooms, a heroines soul
acknowledgement, the poppies yield.

*Just 1 of the verses in my new book The Hurricane by Prolific Press
Signed copies are available though me.

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015

Details | I do not know? |


Elegant creatures of nature
Roam around in the world
In search of pleasure and power
But found domination 
Under the shadow of their counter
And as ages pass by
They still remain a prisoner
Bound by the chains of
Family and younger souls

Copyright © anbes rawal | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Power of Knowing

What power does he feel?
Does he feel superior?
When he pushed her down?
When he violently grabbed her 
By the arm, leaving bruises.
The beautiful mix of
These colors are her favorite.
Does he enjoy watching the tears 
Stream from her eyes, down each cheek.
He kneels. Kisses. Thinking it would make things better.
What about the time, he forced her out
From her comfort zone,
Into a stranger’s place 
They call home.
Multiple men in and out.
He forces her. 
What power does he have?
What right to to feel superior.
Belittling her, as a simple object.
Together with the color red, he loved
So he would paint her body. 
From her face down to the gift that 
God gave her that makes her a woman.
What power does he believe in?
This is right
Her body to be punished only because
He failed to make her to be his puppet.
What power he lacks?
The knowledge.
To know that women HAVE NOT
Ever come with strings.
Her body, not made to be punished, 
But made to protected.
Her body, not made for rape,
But made to be caressed.
Her body, not made to be unappreciated,
But made to be loved.
Her body, not his use 
But for God’s use only.

Copyright © Meredith Deen | Year Posted 2017

Details | I do not know? |

RIP Virginity

Dear Sir, my innocence is gone now, no more fear 
Do you love to **** me again, I am always here. 
I wonder when you taught me how to use a pen, 
I was so into you but my ****** was in pain! 
I was crying; I was too immature to understand
I was turning only 13, I couldn't feel what happened. 
but I promise I never forget what you taught me at the end. 
I begged you to stop and looked into your eyes, 
there was a reflection of a cruel world, that’s  what I deserved!
Don't be afraid, mommy never knows what you did, 
Nobody knows that you made me bleed. 
Dear sir, my innocence is gone with all my tears,
as I had no safe place to hide myself from fears.
Nobody saw anything as your world was so blind! 
having hidden hatred inside, a virgin died. 
Dear sir, time cannot erase your memories, 
time doesn't heal all wounds, that you marked, 
yes, you took my innocence that will be always on my mind.
My innocent world was shattered by your touch
Hope no one ever has to experience such
For all the pain, all the cruelty, thank you very much!

Copyright © Farhana Akter | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |

Rice ain't nice and the NFL smells

Don't know 'bout you, but I'm in a stew
that Rice ain't nice and the NFL  smells.
Seems a shame, just  2 games
suspension for sending fiancé to unconscious dimension 
but 5 games in the pink for some "illegal" ink
and a season on the rope for smokin a little  dope.
Too bad, violence gainst women so sad
but these are men in a violent pen
NFL pretzel logical?
Whatever the reason, dirty laundry in preseason
washed clean yawl, if Ray take us to the Super Bawl.
Tennis anyone?


Copyright © Dave Will | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Wrong Way Out

My knees have touched every part of this floor
Not for the satisfaction one would get from acting out a favorite animal position
But more from being dragged around like an animal 
My disposition was no longer sweet

Cuts and bruises covered my feet
I tried to run
Even tried jumping out the window
Since luck spared me from being thrown from it yet

But every attempt failed
I was jailed
I placed my hands  on the glass
Clear for the world to see
In hopes that someone, anyone
Would save me

Each day I placed another blood stained hand print  on the window
Passerby must have thought I was an artist
Red turkey decorations 
In the middle of summer?
They must have thought it weird 
As they just looked and passed by

My cries were heard only by me
Numerous phone calls made to the police
One time too many, I guess
Because their visits ceased

I was advised to file an Order of Protection
Since the police themselves couldn’t offer protection
My mind was boggled with the thought of useless police
With such closed minds and biased beliefs

It was my fault for being in the situation I was in
Thanks a lot to those women  
Who deceitfully mirrored my pain,
Willfully brought shame to  my name 
For women, they are insane
For thinking this is a game

I am a woman
And because of that
I get  choked with
The insanity cloak
From the first mention of domestic violence
I was so sick and tired of
My pleas for help
Being  greeted with silence

The first chance I got 
I filed an Order of Protection
Thinking this was my underground railroad to freedom

Just to think
I survived through all the punching, slapping, pushing
Rapes and threats
Just to have this order of so-called protection
Place the highest bet 
On my life

I made it under ground and realized
The grass is greener on the other side

But why did I have to die?

Copyright © Latosha Mitchell | Year Posted 2014

Details | Dramatic Verse |

domestic violence survivor

i'd allowed you in again even thou my soul was shattered god was quite displeased as you hammered your dark fist against my rib cage senseless i thought an yet you were forgiven again even more than the last time i'd carefully packed garments birth certificates and social security cards while dripping tears and blood onto the blank pages of my new residence a safe place chanted across the empty lines then availibility  how many beds as we poured into the entrance the sign read safe you are not alone an yet i'd left everything i was centered in a room of over fourteen other women quiet timid angry how we failed at making a male happy within his own skin how he'd torn into us all it was like the same man had beaten us all an yet i knew only you calm cool collective when the cops came taking you around the corner to cool off where was i here in america why i was all races all religions an yet i was harmed while the worse part of my abuse was returning to my abuser  how you emptied me into silence covered in tears black and blue an yet i missed you washing the bruises with soft soap our children were shattered as i explained daddy was ill he was sick he worked very hard to care for us if we were more quiet well behaved he would respond to our energy and love us deeply as deep as i allowed myself to be abused this was america oppression depression family ties became wrath  as i whispered he know's not what he does we are loved as i planned a new home among strangers an yet they were me i was all of these women a safe place sorjournal truth home the harbor light inn the st angeline christian center chaplins office the salvation army cornerstone community outreach shelter the springs outreach where was home in america as i embraced you served you were ill you would someday change abuse would become softer cycles will be broken but here in the in this space in this place and in this time you became plural that's all as i soon became very small why i soon became safe

Copyright © Yolanda Jones | Year Posted 2012

Details | Sonnet |

Behind closed doors

I am tired
I am weak
I am fragile

I sit in the corner
My weary head rests on bent bruised knees
The dark and musty room reflects how I feel inside
My bloodstained clothes are torn
I sob into my dress
As I sit
Behind closed doors

Salty tears sting my face
Pain sears through me
I tremble with fear
It hurts
I am critically wounded
I am not good enough
Hopeless and useless he mocks
I made him do this
It is my fault
My drained body and hands shake
I want to sleep

The door slams
Has he gone?
I can’t take any more
My battered body lays still
In the dark stale corner
Silence... glorious silence
He is gone

No more shouting, slapping and kicking
No more clenched fists forcefully contacting my face
Swollen and sore, I cry and scream
He gags my mouth with his fist
My jaw cracks
Pain surges through me
He doesn’t care
An uncontrollable rage, a furnace within himself 
Angry eyes, empty, dark & dangerous.

I want to move
My broken bones prevent
My frail shattered body screams in agony
Tortured, crimson blood pours from my wounds
My tattered clothes
Covered in the sticky red substance
My battered, bruised and damaged body 
All tell my story
Of suffering 
Of domestic abuse
Exposing me as a victim
Of what goes on behind closed doors

I lay down, too tired to sit
I feel my life draining from me
I close my eyes
I need to sleep

I am weak
I am tired
I am fragile
I am not scared any more
As my life ebbs away
I am happy to leave
Do not cry for me 
I suffer no more

The angels have come to rescue me

Copyright © Sarah Bryant | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |


Old man Cowell and boy Ted,
Hardcore and alcohol
unlocked doors in his head.

Midnight’s rage held a speculum,
every one of them became Brooks.
Two escapes and from
a sling, cast or uniform
one beetle shell thinned
apartment and dorm.

Swung and dumped on both coasts,
Dipped a hand in the green river,
and lost count of his ghosts.
Paid part of his debt on a Florida chair.
Rode the Lightning to eternity.
Consumed by what awaited him there.

Copyright © rob carmack | Year Posted 2015

Details | Epic |

A Woman And Her Pair of Shoes

this is a story of a woman.
work hard for the living.
used to work in the evening.
her face is filled with glitters.
inside the cave of dragons and beasts...

she is my beloved childhood friend.
she made a letter one day we met.
to let the people know 'bout herself.
she left it my wallet one morning,
and this is what she's telling....

she was only 15 when she left our town.
try to experience a life she dreamed about.
she dreams to change her life somehow.
but trouble had came and wreck her life.
thought this man can save her from the dark.

but the wheel of fortune did not fave her.
she was thrown inside the carcel.
she became famous in a world of fools.
dancing alone with a pair of shoes.
naked and wounded, her soul is abused.

too many years passed,
our roads had crossed.
I saw her picture in front of a door.
her hair has colors,her face is old.
I went to witness what a world she holds.

so many people are watching over,
their eyes are glimmer and craving.
I look up and see what's amuse them.
A question risen up in my head.
why is she dancing with just a pair of shoes?

that night seemed long, we drove away.
we felt each moment, our soul had mate.
I've drowned in a passion I dreamed to own.
I wake up that morn, I'm all alone.
holding a letter she wrote all night long.

this is the story of a woman,
wearing just a pair of shoes.
she is not different from you.
she is a princess of her dad.
she's an angel, she must be love.

Written by: Aiyah De Torres
Entry for WOMEN ONLY Poetry Contest

** 4th Place Winner**

Copyright © Aiyah de Torres | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |

A Soul Cries

A soul cries yet nobody hears him
They say he has neither a head nor limbs
But he has a soul and a spirit
Undesirable is the soul to be taken from the womb

A soul cries yet nobody hears him
His voice is so mild that no one can hear him
He’s damned for a crime he didn’t commit 
No supplication and inspiration to share

A soul still cries yet nobody hears him
He has neither words nor songs to hymn
He’s languishing from a lashing whip 
A victim to hatred, dubiety and immorality 

A soul cries yet nobody seems to care
He pleas for his precious life to be spared
Yet with a mild voice no one will give an ear
 With despair he cries and screams into the night

A soul cries yet this girl has turned a deaf ear
A voice tells her “eliminate him from here” 
But a master fate will sometimes have it to be
The Dame escorted him six feet underground

The Poet Preacher © 2014

Copyright © Gideon Foli | Year Posted 2014

Details | Epic |

Fertile Crescent, iii

Fertile Crescent
and Vestigial Conscience

The sun overshadowing my morality
my self- righteousness eclipsed

Where early mans' dawn is, 
Our sun over my left *should* threaten to tinge me if
I pontificate platitudes that fail to connect us to
full stomachs for our children, solid comfort during our elders’ aging and respite needs
That McChrystal was sacrificed at the altar
the way Abraham (*pause) to show faith
O yea, my ancient ancestors from Ireland
Maybe they had roots in Celtic lore
Heralding Beowulf’s heroics
And maybe they had someone in some way connected to 
 various seafaring warring factions!
Tyranny and takeover spark hatred
blinding rage, like
action- oriented swarming killer bees~
Vestigial, then, is it - our
primordial consciousness?

Weeping flows, but flash floods cannot compare, 
and the burn of fury that hot lava
NO! of liquid molten, from the deepest depths of Earth's core - 
even that cannot compare 
to the condemnation
my foe must assume.
With this pen I secure my conduit to the divine, 
My unpretentious foothold here from my pedestal, 
denouncing injustice! 
My spears are fueled
Fertile Crescent
Ghosts of pharaohs
Branded timeless in stone
Reigning order
Condemning the vilified,
as it is published by
The Royal Geographical Society:
Syria as the Gateway between East and West
Leonard Woolley
The Geographical Journal
Vol. 107, No. 5/6 (May - Jun., 1946), pp. 179-190)
And why shouldn’t this be so?
Beowulf, an earliest epic
Of Old English
How proud and agile to be able
To confer your legacy in written format
Onto your generations and incursions ~
Daughters of the American Revolution, 
weren't you early colonists settling in Maryland?
Wasn't The Crown's high noon tea wrought with hypocrisy?

I was wrong when I supposed 
McCongress ordered striking the King's son
off the Dollar Menu, To Go, 
when they showed up at the
Drive-Thru window
Morocco & France have tensions
today that sprouted around this very topic, you know.
Everyone has to pay attention to who the special children are, 
from the special castes - it is written and taught in
children's international fairytales 
written by nations collectively-
cultures present their insides
in their telling of morals embellished
inside gripping tales
to their children,
use of cultural symbols and
delectable terms,  the signs all 
lead directly to the diaper room. 
But for this poet, it was the Irish potato famine
forbidding entry into libertine culture.

Copyright © Jen Franks | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |

Sex Trafficking, It Must Be Stopped

Sex Trafficking, It Must Be Stopped!

There are some girls who are brutally betrayed,
Ripped apart from their families who care,
Stolen at knife point, maliciously swayed,
Stolen at night when no one is aware.

Some are promised a life full of laughter,
Jobs in a new world and careers of fame,
Only to find nightmares for long after,
Bondage, torture and such horrible shame.

Some run away from parents in anger,
Thinking they know best for their future path,
Soon to be ensnared, put in great danger,
Sold, beaten, forced to endure cruel wrath.

How can we rescue these priceless pearls?
What can we do for these precious girls?

-written by Kathi Preston

Copyright © Kathi Preston | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |


She claimed her rights as a young lady
And in the coming years a woman
She don’t want to be an endangered species hunted by violence daily
She got rights too…she’s a human
Stand against this bliss
Gender Base Violence a sure diss
No more verbal abuse, emotional abuse or physical abuse
It’s your rights to reject abuse, so claim it, good news
You can only be his victim
Only if you allow yourselves to be used by him
You’re no longer going to be told…shut up!
You’re worthless, or what you say is meaningless…Just stop!
Or you’re stupid or call you names to graphic to repeat
After that, he says he loves you you’re so sweet
Well, decide today…that behavior is unacceptable
The truth comes before the love…Whether Sharon, Susan or Mable
Cause if he truly love you 
He won’t want to abuse you
Are my words credible, Gender Base Violence become a label 
Let’s take action and fight with all our might
“Claim your Rights”

©Copyright November 28, 2011 by Brian Pierre-Alexander
© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Brian Pierre-Alexander | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

The Parolee

By Angeline Star

The ad stated that
the prospective employee 
should have the ability
to prepare and serve food samples 
using small appliances such as 
microwaves, fryers, skillets, coffee makers 
and knives.

He had a background
with knives.

Copyright © Angeline Star | Year Posted 2014

Details | Blank verse |

They ask

1.	They Ask  (For 1984 riots)

Everyone asks;
how were you coupled with him?
Whose desertion
has dried up your eyes.
Finding solace in my gasps
You tell me-
How can I disclose
that the radiance of your blood,
before becoming my vermilion,
is gleaming in my eyes.
The perennial sea of my eyes is red-
with the ire
and with the woe
I can't lend the azure icy frost
to my venomous eyes.

I confess asking you 
“to curse me hard”
but the curse- bigger than the age of life,
When did I- the sinner- sought?
How should I be grateful to you
you only know.
Talking of Salvation
how callously you behaved-
left me, to rust for rest of my life
you have salvaged
with the appearance of your body.

Whom can I blame that you deserted me!
to my destiny….?
to rabid, unscrupulous predator dogs….?
Or to the swathe of the religion…?
Do you think???
Blaming the destiny
can relieve me
of the uneasy feeling of being
the spinster-widow.
See- you have not kept
any of my promises
I admit, you didn’t make any
But were obliged under yourcommitments
If the rabid dogs…
were not obliged for the promises
how your creed could forgive you!

You were the same…
whobeseeched your deity,
wished well for all
butstrayed from my wellbeing….
preventing me from a giggle
you took all my laughter…
Where was your lord
For whom you once said-
“Oh lord whom Thou bless…”
Before fighting the tilted battle
While dying
did you call on that Lord
or your Mother…
or in agony, pain and helplessness
just cried
referring the humanity
I won’t be able to know…

Look- your Mother
is in the endless wait
for you and your brothers
in the hope…
You were the youngest
Mother’s beloved, but naughty…
Admitted that you liked hide and seek
But were you right in hiding
for ages
with aging mother waiting forever…
for her you were Sarwan Kumar,
Now who will quench her thirst
And how can I make it clear,
that how am I related to her.

Look! before your rites are completed
I am again made up so much
I laugh openly now
With the shadows of the mourning phase
My mouth is full with sweet,
contrary to your bitter smog.
Still everyone asking;
how were you coupled with him?
Whose desertion
Has made the stars
and the moon redundant for you…?

Copyright © jasbir kaur | Year Posted 2013

Details | Villanelle |

Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent - 8

Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 8

The pain that M’m’selle inflicts on her toes
Twists itches in bums and bosoms of hope
Each in his own way straps on strappados 

Mascaraed serene face trots on stilettos
Embryos oblivious violent lope
The pain that M’m’selle inflicts on her toes

Paths to pleasure lead through stabbing throes
Sadistic brutes loved more than sweet husband dope
Each in his own way straps on strappados

Tigress nape stung deep in tiger-tooth jaws
Thumped fury of loins turns mother salope
The pain that M’m’selle inflicts on her toes

The sacred act of making one life’s woes
Born of the terra moto gasping breath grope
Each in his own way straps on strappados

Still the Big-Bang whistles tinnitus mementoes
Is the Universe the result of wanton rape
The pain that M’m’selle inflicts on her toes
Each in his own way straps on strappados

© T. Wignesan – Pars,  2015

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

In the Bedroom

In the Bedroom

Cool, callous, catatonic in the calm silence
  About to experience the virtues of violence
In his mind, the blind eye was violations seeing
  What flicker of light in her eyes, simply fleeting
He came to project what he was believing
  In order to justify the self-deceiving of rape.
Unable to move from her schizoid shape
  She rested motionless, awake, without
Possibilities of sudden escape.
  The removal of motion from the still body
Cold, clammy hands on a summer's day tawdry
  Then, the dripping of sex from a butterscotch sunset.
Without violence, he took her against her will
  To the visions of black nightfall.

Copyright © Stephanie Kjaerbaek | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Love strikes no more

We had a life together i went to sleep beside you every night and as i would lay there with you beside me i would think and dream to myself you as my man would one day make me your wife they say its funny how things can change with one strike from night to daylight or better yet how there's a thin line between love and hate but never in my mind would i ever dreamed of changing my mind but only time can tell fate cause now in present days all i can feel for you is hate which god forgive my soul its so great but over time i may heal and forgiveness may be possible but for now i don't forget or forgive all the horrible things you did like grab me up in front of my kids or pull my hair until the scalp balls or what about all the 911 calls or what about the times you almost choked me out whatever occasions you choice forever always i refuse to be abused by you or any dudes are you confused cause my head is on straight being with you was a god honest mistake living with you was like Jesus on a stake sacrificing my all for a fool like you how dare you put your hands on a woman who would do anything for you its too late to stop and wonder love for you is so deep down under rain has fallen lightning has flashed so has the sounds of thunder clashed i mean do you pay attention i do believe i mention i would leave you where you stand if you ever raise your hand i mean i do understand that this was no plan but DAT does not take away the fact that i had to fight back from your physical and mental abuse and all the anguish of being misused but in the end we cant mend together what i thought would be forever there could never be a we i let the abuse go so i can be free...

Copyright © Mildred Francois | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

One Too Many Times

It was one too many times

I felt that back hand
Rip fast across my face
My tongue no longer had a taste
For the rice pudding
Left sitting at my hospital bed side

The entire make up in the world
Couldn’t hide all the bruises
I started telling people they were tattoos
One of the many excuses
I began using so much
Until the point they were real to me

Forced myself into a new identity
That my lies could be true to
Since I couldn’t be true to myself

I wasn’t selfish

My heart and I were
Hand in hand
Racing to a beat
Only we listened to
Until my poor heart gave out
A shadow of doubt 
That I would take care of the home
That bore the very essence of my soul

Reality check
One...two...,  and

In two
Was my heart
Beating slow
Fading rhythms
Into a flat line

Copyright © Latosha Mitchell | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |

Poetic Choice 2: Tragedian

(2nd Part: Poetic Choice)

The potholed road in the mid will lead me to be 
a tragedian, who may ruthlessly be ridiculed, 
or viciously be poisoned, if cannot be enticed,  
for seeking or bravely revealing the agonizing truth; 

who dares use their voice for those of Medusas,
whom his atrocious story has turned into worshipers, 
with long-nosed and hairy-chinned, rude gossipers, 
deceitful snake charmers and distorted spell-binders; 

who may strip the blind veils of cultural fetters, 
and compel men to see how T-Rexes are devouring
women, children and diverse other tiny creatures, 
who need to exist to double the beauty of this globe;

who may ever be ready to shed warm tears of blood,
or fearlessly dare trouble any man-made trouble, 
and when the whole world rapidly hurls down upon, 
stand immobile considering it as an empty bubble. 

Copyright © Newton Ranaweera | Year Posted 2017

Details | Enclosed Rhyme |

My Country Tis of Thou

Oh country, oh country for you I sing
Land of the free, home of the brave
Where we hung our people because they said it was okay
All hail the venomous sting

Oh country, oh country hell has risen in our generation
Beyond any control we have lost it
We’ve dug too many graves, we’re exhausted 
All hail the venomous temptation 

Oh country, oh country are you really for me
I see my women raped and forgotten
My women, of the earth, turned rotten
All hail the venomous Eve 

Oh country, oh country it’s time for change
No more war, no more society secrets
Take heed to the promises broken with deepest regret
All hail the venomous reign 

Copyright © Kira Price | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Good Enough to Know

Walk through things that hurt you once
Mind-play distances, half done stunts
Turn away and off the path
Feel your way and crawl to ask.
Heartbeat pounding, muscles bulge
Vision lessened, do what you're told.
Mind played distances, half-known thoughts
Deep stirred feelings sold for nought.
Fists then clench and look around
Told and told and told again. . .
Hail the Goddess one and all!
Feel your way and move towards.
Never knew you, Where've you been?
Brighten up and Hail again!

Copyright © Erik Spector | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

A widow's Chant

Throw me into the streets

And let me eat the dust of the earth

Sound the dreams and strip me with your shifty eyes

Till I lose my mind


Shave me bald

And scrap my pubics with broken bottles

Make slaves of my children

Till they become scum of the earth


Sing dirges for me while I live

And invite death to dine with me

Starve me,

Till my bony frame scares vultures away

Call me mother of witchery

And burn me at the stake

Let the smoke rise into the skies

Till widowhood is no more

Copyright © Woelinam Dziewornu-Norvor | Year Posted 2015

Details | Pantoum |


Lissome, silhouette shadow
Gliding the long winding stairs
Iridescent gown changing glows
Flowing, silky bright black hair

Breezy, damp cold but warms
Fresh, sweet fragrant perfumes
Lingering aura full of charms
Scent of a flower in bloom

Head with jeweled, ornate crown
Standing firmly in a dreary hall
Failures stubbornly shut down
No one heard her pleading call

Endless, lonely morning walks
With a love that struck her blind
Inane, unromantic shallow talks
A hollow life, a fixed knot that binds

Eyes closed on conscious mind
Beating heart bleeding copiously
Options she chose to leave behind 
A love slave enchained by destiny

In truth, a tiara pricked with thorns
Messy hair, rent from too many pulls 
Black and blue, her dress is torn
Every night she’s beaten by the bull

She’s like a wind that circles a room
Doubting an escape from a little hole
She chooses to stay despite the doom
Ignore the abuse, her clan must be whole!

Copyright © Meadow Morada | Year Posted 2016

Details | Haiku |


Met end to free us
We are bound everywhere in relations
Disgusted and disappointed we leave.

Copyright © bawa talwar | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose Poetry |

A Suffering

I was once removed from the comfort of my masculinity by the vision of a woman 
stood by the side of the road in Aquin, 
a town named after he for whom Truth came solely from the Divine. 
Her face was indistinguishable from the river of red and mucus pouring from her beaten swollen face,
her white t- shirt drenched to blood thickening blackness. 
I could not hear her screams as the car passed, 
all sound now muted  -
Our progress slowed as though time had stalled, 
as though we had been transformed into atomic particles wafting in inconsequential space - 
floating by her anguish like drifting plankton. 
A policeman -  in the shade of the palms – 
sat in slouched indifference to her wailing. 
Her arms flayed and cut the air like craven machetes without a crop to harvest; 
Her rage a primal pleading for a justice she could never see 
in a world of men, 
built by men, 
built for men, - 
the sometimes noble and sometimes savage sex to which I belong.

Copyright © Colm Fahy | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |

The Shield Maiden

Fierce is she with flowing mane
No stranger to feel or witness pain

Fast she stands with shield in hand
Defender of her sacred lands

And full prepared to bring an end
To any who would dare offend

With shaft of glistening, speeding light
Fired from bow with deadly sight

The Maiden stands tall and proud
Battle Roar long and loud

Before the charge to the front
Shield at the fore to bare the brunt

Hard she strives through the fight
Blade swung hard with all her might

To fell the invader of her land
Return them hence to the sand

Her shield swings high, her parry low
Mastering the battles flow

Copyright © Duncan Treasure | Year Posted 2017

Details | Couplet |

An axed waffle

There's no waffle axed 
by someone flaccid.

Volodymyr Knyr

Copyright © Volodymyr Knyr | Year Posted 2017