Ode Woman Poems | Ode Poems About Woman

These Ode Woman poems are examples of Ode poems about Woman. These are the best examples of Ode Woman poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Ode |


Knees under your chin,
clasped tight
Sitting on you bed,
slowly rocking
This long night,
your mind in a spin

Sitting on your bed,
awake instead
What am I?
Where do I go?
Ready to fly
Nowhere so

Wounded heart,
wants to run
The things he had done
Right from the start

Hurtful things
That are untrue
Piercing stings
These acts you do

Wounded heart
Wants to run
The things he had done
Right from the start

This numbing pain
This negativity
Has come back to haunt me again
Killing all creativity

Bruises and pain
Walked in to the door again
Hate and spite
Try all he might

His promises to me
Now so hollow
This is not what I imagined to be
My heart so wanted to follow

Wounded heart
Wants to run
The things he had done
Right from the start

Bruises heal
But not what I feel
I am stronger now,
deep inside
I know how

He can bruise my heart
Not my spirit
I can go
Where he cannot follow
This is where I start

Wounded heart,
can run
This new start
You see...................
You are free

Copyright © Matthew Brackley | Year Posted 2006

Details | Ode |

Love Trigger Woman

There is a bloom of October
born of autumn's mauve harvest sweat,
her roots reach into the reason of passion
her skin smells of love's honest heat
and her wings whip the crave alive in crimson wind,
she is a sphinx of intellectual seduction and the lioness of Libra law,
from the echo of her elan laughter
summer's lean leaves which long for honey fire
rustle with rebel hue,
the rue of her rouge tears will woo you
with memories of spring's sprite and winter's ruthless wrestle
and in the desserts of her melodies your soul will succumb -


Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode |


See that familiar form:
Happy joy strikes a norm,
Warm refuge from life's storms.

Sense a fond smile now squeeze:
Heart flutters in the breeze,
Kind comfort in harsh sneeze.

Delight frames a fond face:
Beauty in warm embrace,
Warm eyes that hurl kind grace.

Sure poise of charming voice:
Calm touch that cancels noise,
Silent resolve floods choice.

Bright sparkling eyes tell all:
Heed the lovely sans gall,
Wise beyond life's stern call.

You wear a certain glow:
Your heart speaks truth you show,
A touch that helps us know.

You mother well our days:
Touch of purpose that stays,
The path upon the way.

What is man without you?
You bring meaning that woos,
Love lives in all you do.

Leon Enriquez
07 March 2016

Copyright © Leon Enriquez | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ode |

I am Woman, Fear Me!

Pretty, lovely, 
Beautiful, Stunning
I am woman, 
Fear me!

Sassy, saucy, 
Feisty, spunky
I am Woman, 
Fear me!

Smart, intelligent, 
Bright, clever
I am Woman, 
Fear me!

Independent, free,
Autonomous, Self-sufficient
I am Woman, 
Fear me!

Fear me because I am:
Pretty, sassy, smart, independent!
Fear me because these things
Are a danger mix and explosive combination

Fear me because one day
You'll have to answer to me.
Fear me because soon you'll look up
For advice and I'll be the face there.

Fear me because to you
Women should have no power.
Fear me because to me 
I will have more power than you.

I am a woman, 
Fear me!
Fear me!
I am a Woman!

Copyright © Chyrelle Woods | Year Posted 2005

Details | Romanticism |

Ode to Mi Corazon

As I pull weeds from cracks in sidewalks
Yout sit on top of thrones made of solid gold
And I pay no mind to the women around me,
Only to your beauty do I hold an Ode.

I see my fair Spanish lady
my daring, sweet rose with thorns,
That run up and down her spine.
As she stops in the daily parade
Waving at the peasants,
She looks at me and summons her guards
Too take me away.

Her beauty is unbearable.
I cannot take not being with her
For a single moment in my life.
Her hair,
Black like coal,
Her smile is bright, as the first rays of the Red Sun
In the dawn.
Her lips painted with ruby lipstick,
her silk laced dress and shawl wrap around her,
Like a beautiful butterfly in her cocoon.
Her skin of olive, dark color and her green eyes.
My God, those sweet and piercing green eyes
Oh, how they hit my soul and make me shiver with excitment.
She is intoxicating and I am intoxicated in her beauty.

She is like an angel, a Latina beauty who walks the streets paved gold,
As I walk the cracked, cobblestone walkways.
She shines in the Spanish sun, like a dimoand in the ruff
As you blow the dust off her sweet brow,
she glows and sparkles with extordinary excellence.

She is beautiful and sweet and kind.
She loves me, but her father minds.
I am only a peasant, and she royalty.
Can our love ever be together in one holy matrimony?
I pray to the Lord, of all that is good,
Please give me a sign that she loves me.

Soon a storm came over,
blowing me down to the ground
And a cloud of dust swallowed me whole.
A great Conquistador on a great white stallion
pulled me up and told me that she wanted to see me.
I shacked with nervous of joy as I followed the warrior.

She was there, under a palm tree
Near a beautiful beach in Barcelona.
She smiled and a glow covered me with passion.
I hugged her and kissed her upon her sweet lips.
I tasted virginity and she tasted loyalty.
We both tasted beauty and harmony.
As the warrior left us,
We made love upon a vigin white sheet,
Soon covered with a flowing river of red.
She moaned with exticy and love was in the air.
The Ode to my sweet Spaniad, Mi Corazon!

We lay there in each others arms
Looking up at a clear night sky
The twilight glimmered ever so softly
And a shooting star blazed across the sky
I kissed her and she kissed me.
I whispered in her, "My love forever"
And she pushed me back upon the sheets
and we made sweet and ever lasting love again.
As we looked in each other's almond colored eyes.
I said to her, in a soft voice, Mi Corazon.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode |

An Ode To My Beloved

I just wanted to let you know
That I have this love for you...
Although I'm not fast to show
For you, there's nothing I wouldn't do
And I can't control this love
No matter what I try to do...

While I know our lives are separating
Which has got me pretty blue
I just want you to know
How much I love you...

Because I was blinded by shyness
And now my heart's feeling rugged
So this here's An Ode To My Beloved 

Oh how I still see you every night in my mind
You're the best girl I feel I'll ever find
And when my eyes would fall upon your smile
My heart would be put on trial
And so if nothing else, I want to let you know
That I'll always love you, that my hearts beat
For you, won't ever slow...

Because I was blinded by shyness
And now my heart's feeling rugged
So this here's An Ode To My Beloved 

So I wish you happiness beyond compare
And sorry for the times I couldn't help but stare
Caring, passionate, smart, and loving
From my heart, to you, I'll never be shoving

You will always be in my heart
No matter where we go, how far we drift apart...

Goodbye My Love...

Copyright © Andrew Shannon | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode |

Daydream Love

You are simply a work of art.
I’ve known it from the very start, 
But you won’t find me hittin’ on ya.

For I’m just an old guy 
With a twinkle in his eye;
Happy just to gaze upon ya.

My old heart quickens it pace
Each time I see your pretty face,
A face that every man should see.

Sometimes, just for a while,
Each time I see you smile,
I imagine it's just for me.

And, when I hear your voice,
For just a moment, I rejoice.
Yes, it’s music to these old ears.

But more than a work of art,
You’re warm and funny and smart.
Simply a beautiful person, my dear.

Though with you I’m quite smitten,
My words are respectfully written;
And every word is  true.

But, if I weren’t so old,
If I were better looking and a little bold,
I would simply say, “I love you.”

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |

Ode To 'That' Girl

She smiles like nothing’s wrong
And pretends her sorrows would end soon
She laughs like there’s no tomorrow
Never minding life’s unpleasant blows
Yeah, she’s no different from you
She’s no robot, she has a heart too
But she will never bother you with her sadness
She cries inside while deceiving you with her ‘happiness’
You think she doesn’t grieve but she actually does
She does it in discreet as quietly as she must
Either to give you the impression that she’s strong
Or just so you won’t worry and ask her ‘what’s wrong?’
Yeah, she’s the one who easily laughs at small things
The one who comforts you when you’re down and hurting
Yes, the vibrant bubbly girl that you’ve always known
Is the same girl who cries a lot in silence when she’s all alone.

This is dedicated to my friend  Karenjoy D. Viloan.

Copyright © Rainbow Moonfire | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |

Dream Walking

In the small town of Campbell Missouri,
A young girl with lovely brown locks
Sits, having been told she might never walk again
As all aknowledge this belief in town,
A fear swept around, 
And many children were kept down

But in the spirit of this child,
Desire to walk snuck over her fears
Perhaps she wished to surprise-
Perhaps she could not stand
The judgmental eyes-but all the same, 
She picked herself up, smiled,
And sauntered around the room

Happiness pervaded the house
As the family friend, delighted,
Sang merrily the song,
“Have You Ever Seen a Dream Walking?”

Today, at California Mission Inn,
The same girl, now a woman
Walks her glorious walk
With confidence and grace
She is 91 years old and strong
As song,
Her eyes lighting up as she recalls
She hums the dreamy tune
As I jot down miracles 

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |

For The Woman Who Has It All

Still... still I but aspire to serve your sight,
The measures of dark, streaming mystery,
With eyes deep as night and alive with light,
Your Beauty's as any through history,
An unspent spirit proved by your posture,
Your certain figure made sure, made slender,
Vision of you is like rough emery,
Straining, straining to capture your stature,
As ev'ry artist would hope to render
Such Beauty kept committed to memory.

You're owed no less than a sprawling estate,
To be adorned with pearls, diamonds, and gold,
Yet, as always, I'm impoverished of late,
Affording such precious little, all told;
I just might point out places where wood rots,
And I may, perhaps, soak you in spilled milk,
Since with my savings, best I can do's fall,
As there'd be no most luxurious spots,
I'd offer no furs, no cashmere, no silk,
Not much for the woman who has it all.

'Pon my soul you remain as coarse etches,
A brilliant scar, a shadowy tainting,
The endless subject of endless sketches,
A future masterpiece in oil painting,
The fearsomely delicate carved sculpture;
Of you I make my own melodic code,
As I do this, I do so in your name,
For you are a truly rare-formed rupture,
Bleeding slow, my own melancholic ode,
Writ share 'mongst these words of undying fame.

Copyright © Ryan McCabe | Year Posted 2014

Details | List |

Ode to the woman

Woman, you are most beautiful within you.
When you show wisdom that is treasured in your heart.
When you proclaim the truth to save lives,
When you give with compassion,
When you open your heart and consider those in need.

Woman, you are most beautiful with your soft voice.
When you give gentle answers that repels anger,
And say the right words that give comfort.
When your tongue gives wisdom and good advice.
When your voice sings to comfort the downtrodden and entertain the fun lovers.

Woman, you are most beautiful with your gentle touch.
When you heal and close the open wounds.
When you softly pat our backs with comfort or congratulate us.
When you multi task at home and out to produce warmth and creativity.
When you sway your hands to direct the lost and persuade the confused.

Woman, you are most beautiful with your distinctive sense of smell.
When you choose the right spices to cook a good meal.
When you pick the correct fragrances for specific occasions.
In the garden, when you pick the best flowers to brighten our lives.
When you are able to smell trouble, wickedness and avoid it. 

Woman, you are most beautiful with your wise foresight.
When you are able to predict events to come.
When you see unique things and make the right choice.
When your eyes are able to pierce through the hard hearts.
When your eyes smile with love and exude light amidst darkness.

Woman, you are most beautiful when you lend an ear.
When you patiently listen to the frustrations of others, and
When you understand and are able to give good advice.
When you listen to God’s guidance and act accordingly.
When you hear the cry of the needy and are able to help.

Woman, you are most beautiful with your delicate stride.
When you pave the way for others to walk.
When you step out in fashion and set trends.
When you walk with pride amidst the battle.
When your footsteps echoes and set an example.

Woman, you are beautiful

Copyright © Mpho Kgaswane | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ode |

Gothic Grace -

She had a gothic heart,
predictability and tamming tranquility were her counterparts,
she felt pain as gain,

peace was nettlesome and purposeless,
an abomination that careless civilization is undeserving of,
life is best consumed in confrontation,

within her magnificent mind God's value gravitated toward the power of volatility,
instability as instinct,
truth is permenance in transition,
Victoria believed that divinity as a mystery unsolved is more exhilerating
than explication or epiphany leading to the extinction
of curiosity's reign,
Victoria knew that law and politics are nothing more than an imposition
by the few heaved upon the many,a yoke of oppressive genius,
Victoria, a child of love betrayed,a woman of courage displayed
thought toughly & tenderly about the potential of mercy,
an enviable Empress,

compassion and kindness were complimentary components
to her dangerous disposition as hawkish talons
may be employed for feeding of fighting,
she developed into a clandestine warrior of natural necessity,
this world would either waste her
or she would wound the witnessed wickedness,

there was no harmony to be hankered for,life is a war of wills & wits,
espionage,diplomacy,truces,tributes and trounces always in the making,
Victoria loved God like a woman loves the anguish of pregnancy,
Victoria had a passion and a pity
for the Creator responsible for her awakening -


Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ode |

Pride of a Woman

I was walking 
absentmindedly on 
the street
When I saw a sight 
luvly to behold.
This sight fit to take 
a man off his seat
Cos it's one that is 
but for the bold!

I have been 
oblivious of its 
Thinkin and gettin 
used to the anomalies
That assault many a 
That to us,the sight 
is nothing but 

What did you see
That makes you 
ramble and rumble
As a restless sea?
Shall you tell that 
which is making you 

I shall tell and sell
Cos it's not meant
for me alone.
From afar, the sight 
greeting my eyes 
was a damsel
Covered gracefully 
in a hijab looking but 
not alone!

She was different 
from the crowd
As the sun from the 
cloudy cloud
She was hansomely 
Cos covered all over 
was she to the full!

She is different from 
the naked
And clothless ones 
who assault our 
eyes naked.
They it is that are 
By men who the sight 
of them had tempted!

But she is not,but 
she is respected,
And shouts of 
Makes me know she 
is not to be 
Of the evils 
committed near and 

The reason for her 
By all and sundry I 
seek to know,
The Hijab she wears 
is the essence
That protects, guide 
and make evil men 
say No.

So, friends this is 
the sight
I think is nicely right
For the ladies both  
near and far from us
IF not like hers but 
something close thus!

At least,
They should 
upgrade their rags
To cover and 
protect themselves 
from the beast
That dwell in the 
soul of the man that 

?To my lady in the 
Hijab, I
Will say mighty and 
Surely is thy beauty, 
worth and ways
That uncomparable 
is the sun and its 

To my lady in the 
Hijab, I
Will say mighty and 
Surely is thy beauty, 
worth and ways
That uncomparable 
is the sun and its 

To you I pray
Never let anything 
make you
Drop your pridely 
covering and go gay
Like the ladies in this 
worldly place do!

You are pride and 
To those that look 
up to you
Many a man will want 
you and is ready to 
And meet your 
demands if you say 
'I do'!

Oh GOD, my Lord!
I Make a shout and 
plea to you
To bless and 
preserve these one 
who use
The Hijab and invite 
others to come 
And those that to the 
Hijab's use, they say 
I do.
And not those who 
think it is but a ruse!

Copyright © Adesina Idris Dolapo | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ode |

Emily Me

a star and always her
constantly the moon in the garden
this wide paradise to me
where I declaim Emily Dickinson
syllable by syllable
to the happiness of the destinies
an eternal love

Copyright © Milan Georges Burovac | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode |


For Maeve… Bloom!

More perfect than an Angel, so you captivate the room.
Your smile a thousand fireworks to see me through each night..
You know the power to burn is there but the danger is such fun!
So cool and soft as moonbeams, your lips I hope to capture - soon!
The instant I first saw you I just knew how good we are...
As you wake each day all sleepy, keep me there & keep us warm!
Every day a new adventure, with some new love lines - good grief!
More perfect than forever - let forever start please, soon!!!


Copyright © Martin McAreavey | Year Posted 2017

Details | Concrete |

Ode to a modern woman

I swear madam 
That your manners 
Are worthy of a village dope
And your ambitions are tremendously humongous 
At the expense of someone else;
And you are also so lazy 
That there’s no time at all
To manage some cleanup and cooking 
And no ironing and washing.
Childcare also not conducive
And job prohibited at all
But to the art of shopping 
You dedicate your every day.
And to sum up this conversation:
Your ego – size of railway station
You also wither on a vine
(Above means that your talents 
  Are completely wasted).

Copyright © Arthur Zozulya | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode |

Immortal - A Tribute to the life and voice of Dr Maya Angelou - Part I

As the life and voice of Dr. Maya Angelou were profoundly deep and moving, I hope you will find this grateful tribute to her to be fitting. As it is too long to be posted here, you can find it at


Or, Read it in parts I and II:

Part I:

The name woke me up - sat me up in my bed...
"Maya", the name my voice called out...
As I sat there in the dark, listening...
As I had so many times before...
Wondering at the "whys" and "how - tos" of my impossible dreams.

And as the dark, so was the divide -
That place in me, between what I was,
And the Why and Who I wanted to be...
But always, her voice, that voice named "Maya",
Had called across the divide as a still and steady light.

That unbreakable, unshakable, steady light...
I wondered where it was now, with blinking, thinking eyes.
Had it vanished? Was it vanquished? Could I once again rise -
In the dark staring dead at me... daring me to rise...
I felt hopeless, lost back in the divide… now growing ever and ever wide.

What happens now - my question?  A miracle now, an answer - indeed...
For through the dark, that voice named "Maya" whispered...
Whispered into me... sounding a new song's drumbeat creed...
"You", the whispering voice whispered..."You, child - Now, You"...
And my feet were suddenly planted, planted bravely on the ground.

And I stood tall and strong, stepping peacefully forward, twirling round,
For the dark no longer stared at me, but I stared into it...
It no longer owned me... but instead, I commanded it,
By a path so still and steady - and now, so brightly lit:
The light I had strained to see was now the miracle shining from inside of me.

My divide... was now, somehow... unified.
And again the whispering voice came: "Yes child - Yes - I speak your name…
I have come and gone so very far, borne witness to it - 
Have delivered a gift to you all - and you were born to use it.
Share it... wear it... and to the dark - dare it - with that unbreakable, unshakable light.”

“Be a voice for all seasons - make some noise for all the reasons,
The downtrodden have to hope for, that the world would grasp and grope for…
Be my voice Now… as I have been yours… a brilliant spirit, not a wandering ghost…
Make your choice, Now - Decide - to be Identified…
To see and live your unbreakable, unshakable, unstoppable dreams.”

Continued i Part II

Copyright © Kenneth Kirkpatrick | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |

Ode to a Bad Woman

My friend has a woman,
She’s gorgeous and mean.
What comes from her mouth,
Is mostly obscene.
He brings her to parties
She drinks till she’s drunk.
Flirts with men, cusses women
Then leaves in a funk.
She spends all his money
On booze, food and drugs,
She dirties his house
and pukes on his rugs.
She’s maxed out his credit,
Cost him most his friends.
Yet he claims she’s well meaning.
And he’ll stay to the end. 
When push comes to shove 
He’ll admit she’s most crass.
But she’s tall, built and curvy,
With great tits and great ass.
So we wish him the best 
In his venture of love,
We’ll be there with a hanky,
When she gives him the shove.

Copyright © William Smith | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode |


Mary, Mary, Mary, with your golden brown eyes and blood red passionate heart big enough to love a cruel world

A deep encapsulating emotion you give me when I see thee

Every time I see you I leave my heart behind hoping you will pick it up

So we can be together and I can let my red tears of heartache fall into your heavenly hands 

To soil the earth and warn everyone that love isn’t easy but it’s more than worth it when its genuine

Mary, Mary, Mary, there was never one more precious, soft, that feels reminiscent of what paradise looks like

Mary, Mary, Mary, each golden rose pedal mixed with just the right amount of red apples sin

To compliment your wild but at the same time sophisticated style

I never tire from the sight of you dreaming so much being next to you doesn’t even seem real

I never exhaust from lying next to you in this wild field of a world under the stars

Your burnt October lips stick to me and leave loves mark

While I pick each pedal apart

Scattering your flowers love pedals with the wind

Mary, Mary, Mary worth more than gold and more beautiful than the flower better yet she is the flower

p.s. but does she love me or love me not…

Copyright © Post Script | Year Posted 2016

Details | Classicism |

Ode To Napoleon

Restlessness in spirit...
he became 'The Corsican,'
over-bearance of a mother
he was forced to take a stand!
And he became...

Counter-veiling parent ways,
a struggle for his life.
A paradox, he was attached
to Josephine, his wife.
And he became...

From his father he derived,
magnetic forces... not contrived.
From his mother, discipline...
as an influence he would win!
And he became...

All his moods authenticated,
and his habits demonstrated!
One reserved... he was alone...
when provoked and on his own,
he became...

As a 'poor boy' he embittered,
cynicism as he whithered.
Feelings all about his mother...
made him wary of another.
And he was...

Pessimism without rest,
as he tried to be the best!
Perfectionism with disdain,
Napoleon, he would remain...

A Romantic fantasy...
as he struggled to be free!
Contradiction... he persisted...
obstacles which he resisted,
and he became...

Self-destruction played a part,
'Raison d etat' became his art!
His adventures they'd explain...
a defiance for his gain.
And he became...

Betrayal was a theme in life,
his possession for a wife.
Hail Josephine in all her flare...
but she became a snare!
And he was...

Money, it was his obsession,
predominant in his depression!
Napoleon was...

Sexuality for his desire,
when a woman was on fire...
Napoleon was so naive
for any woman to receive,
and he became...

A pragmatist or so it seems,
a fantacist with his own dreams...
Two sides of great Napoleon,
but he would win!
And he became...

Napoleon, he was a charmer...
indecisive in his armor.
Napoleon, he had his way...
all his men that he would sway,
and he became...

An intellect with awesome range,
prodigious memory without change.
A lucid mind that he offset...
those qualities which he'd regret.
Napoleon became...

An intellectual was at war,
satisfaction to get more!
All for his imagination
he became...

Napoleon, he searched for light,
in the sky for his delight.
He claimed he saw his star...
and he went far!
And he became...
A Hero!

and crowned himself...

Robert's Book of Poetry
from Napoeloen...A Biography
by Frank McLynn

Copyright © Robert OBrien | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ode |

Ode: To Rose

Of your repute may I gladly 
shout and aver this day most well? 
You are foremost a high-born lady 
of style whereof I'd love to tell, 
a princess that's sage and lovely—
whose mind is like a fertile dell. 
You are too oft’ a raven-haired 
of graciousness that's seldom seen.  
You are the friend that boldly dared 
to be the one and hopeful Queen, 
a source of ruth who cried and shared 
her tears through eyes of limpid green.  
You are to souls a fresh new start,  
a renaissance of hope that's true:—
a gift of grace to the contrite heart 
and to the lost that no one knew;
you are thus the most blessèd part 
of faith and joy that now ensue.

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Ode To Sony

Eighteen years of sorrow and abandonment.
Eighteen years of drowning in my own tears and the pity of the pathetic bystanders.
Eighteen years, and it finally comes to me in a sweet epiphany:
MY life starts here.
And what a better way to begin a life than to share it with another?
With a woman no words can describe, no matter how beautiful and exotic
(it would be an insult to say I could,
 for she is anything but definable).
I have an eternity to look forward to with this woman who I pale,
in comparison.
The woman with the dazzling eyes and perfect smile.
I can forget about regression
and progress to achieve everything I never believed existed in the world.
At least, 
not anymore.
I hear in her voice the sincerity I have craved my entire life.
It's a wondrous thing when you can admit,
that you can literally hear love bubbling up inside the crevices of someone's soul.
She has opened my eyes and ears,
spirit and heart,
when I needed a rescuing no one but her could have offered
with words unrelatable to a past that's eaten holes into my heart.

And she calls herself lucky...

Copyright © Miranda Bell | Year Posted 2009

Details | Ode |

Ode to black men from a black woman

Dear Black Man, 

Shout out to your deep waved, shaggy, Afro picking outlines. In honor of the loose fitting jeans with the snap backed, wide hip loving, story telling beats that carry on like the echos of the Congo drums from the motherland. Black Man, I Black woman, am not here today in the name of needing my beauty sanctioned or demanding R-E-S-P-E-C-T from you. I am not angry at you, I am  not angry with myself. I am angry with the systems operation on our children' self worth. Don't ever think I am here to stunt your growth. I am Black woman, whose being is the closest thing to God. Whose body is in conjunction with the earth, boring life, as the birds and bees have come to be. My appreciation for you goes on and on like the munchies of the fiend. Though I will never truly understand all the turmoil this earth brings to your face. We share burdens which are too similar to ignore. I see you, Black man, working hard with no reward. Watching your brothers getting stolen and washed away. I see you scared for your lives, running from the greatness of which your sons and fathers possess . Is it that you don't want to show them the potential that has been taken away from your lips? Black man, I uphold your royalty, you are nothing like they make of you to be. Grab your brother's hand and lift it up in solidarity. I black woman, am dignified to stand by you, and fight through any war in the honor of our people. Black man, I hear you. I feel you. I am black woman, whose name should soothe your worried shaken ambitions. Black man, over time your inventions have been gripped by the European counterparts that fear you so much that they intruded your Black women in plain sight. As deep as the hurts appears to be, You and I are the strongest unit, Black love is one of the most sacred existences that there is. Lets turn away from the road of shame, moving toward the flight to recovering and discovering the greatness of who you are.
A black woman.

Copyright © Amanda Mawu | Year Posted 2017

Details | Ode |

White Curls Of Smoke (Ode to Lady Day)


my woman pours out hunger 
like monsoon rain 
come down to drown both wind and world 
in melancholy memories 
the dreams went dry 

the fade to funk 
stripped withered rhythms from her trunk 

her blue/black/smile 
still draws you down 
below firm breasts 
to pleasured space - wet with wandering warm-scented words 

wrapped brother-tight 
in uptown Harlem's 
summer absolution 

where blue notes float 
above white curls 
of smoke 

in risin' syncopation 
with rifts and rhythms of the moon 

a soulful summer night 
where blues make it through 
soft-silky lips 
of ebony woman with high yellow light 

where blues make it 
better than forever for a night 


Copyright © tom mcmurray | Year Posted 2010

Details | Lyric |

Ode to NM

She say her sh is so cold it belong in Alaska
Well guess what, here I am, Alaska
I might even let her hit that, if only she ask, ah
See I know her as my Goddess, my idol
Here to stand for y'all as perfection, role model
Her purpose is to raise us once more to follow
But some of you just stand there empty, like a cave, hollow
So raise your voice and bow your knees
do as she says cause she's the Queen
do as she says, do what pleases
I can command you cause I'm her priestess
So fall to the floor and know your true purpose
Realize who you are, and that she's our Mistress
She is our Lady, our Mother, our Goddess

Copyright © Alaska Brant | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode |


African woman, I have heard so much about you
I have heard that you are caring, that you are loving , that your kindness is incomparable. I have heard that your beauty needs no special powders and creams hoba o pabala 'sea la batho!
Theha tsebe and listen to what I have to say ka wena 
Ke bua ka wena a woman of integrity, what a wonderful creature you are
O mmasechaba, the mother of the nation, nosizwe!
Ka wena re bona masea a matle dibobothwana
Tau dimesana, thipa o e tshwara ka bohaleng. 
Ha ke o tadima ke bona a mother of all professions. A teacher, a sole provide, a mother, the head and the backbone of the family, a creative
Who else could turn a house into a warm home?Ke wena fela mmasechaba!
African woman, ambition is your walking stick to your destination
You are a tree of good fruits, mang le mang desires ditholwana tsa hao
And when they throw you stones to harvest what they never sowed unto you, you give them your fruits ntle le dikgathatso
You use the same heap of stones that were meant to harm you to step to greater heights
You are smart, a dreamer. an intellect...
Your walk is so graceful. Your words say you know what gratitude and appreciation is
Fear is a strange man in your world because you are fierce 
A spark that shines the brightest in the darkest days
O lesedi, naletsana, mmabotle
Courage is your inner man, even when you come across obstacles across your path, you get strength from reminding yourself that you never begin with the intent to quit, you are a fighter 
You fight for your dreams, your victory, I mean you are not here to be defeated but to conquer
You are an African woman!

Copyright © Tholoana Mohale | Year Posted 2017

Details | Ode |

Girl in the Vermillion Dress Part 1

She says, "You have to look down when your in a dress," 
her friend just stares at her cast in a cape of pondering.

her dress is beautiful, flows vermillion onto the flooring
of the dressing room. 
I ask myself, that dress.. while breathtaking.. You must have to have a lot of confidence to wear it,

since it is striking to the naive eyes, 
it's red color pools into spirals of soft thread 

the red of the inside of a papaya, 
and the girls self esteem the size of the seeds of a papaya.

Her dress, it seemed as though an Artist who soaked in the sunset too long, whose skin when cut bled a sweet tender red-orange, painted it,

Why look down in such a dress?
you have to wear confidence 
to complement such a beauty of a dress.

 Her, her with the romantic braids of brown
swaying upon the bend of the nape of her neck,

her with the brown eyes of a thoughtless doe,
yet still warm sparks of chocolate burning into any person's memories,

Red-orange, the color of flames 
but her body did no such thing, because if she had flames bursting 
from the seams of that dress

she couldn't be seen
because she was covered by a forest of soft brown,
of chocolate. 
But see wearing that red-orange dress would just make her locks of smooth brown braids melt..

Copyright © Madison Demetros | Year Posted 2017

Details | Ode |

Night and Day II

Woman however is all sweet fertile fruit, 
all honey dew drops on a crisp Summer’s morning. 
Woman is nurture vs nature, is skin as soft as velvet. Is a tawny, floppy eared bunny frolicking in a meadow of green and tuft yellow dandelions. 

But Woman is more than sugar and spice and everything nice. She is not a recipe of freshly baked pastries, sweet and warm. Is not a delicate fragile teacup. 

Is not a painting of supple bare skin and ivory body. 
Woman can be fire and flames. Can be lightning bright and thunder loud. Woman can be brambles and thorns adorned in cream white roses but can prick and draw from the innate crimson flood. 

Woman is more heart than body, woman is more soul than symmetry. Woman is beauty in imperfections galore. Is beautiful when authentic self is shown. 
Woman can be sour like unpalatable lemons and salt from a salt filled sea. Woman claims authority, are powerful beyond measure, surpass the superficial units of measure, of weight, of waistline, of height, contests. Woman is beautiful no matter what. Is anything she wants to be. 
Is the change she wants to be, and the change she wants to see in the world. 

Men and Women are night and day, Moon and Sun. 
Each perfect in their own way but together are a masterpiece, are an eclipse of beauty of the world’s most signature piece, and portrait of unity and peace. 

Copyright © Madison Demetros | Year Posted 2017

Details | Ode |

Girl in the Vermillion Dress Part 2

she couldn't melt.
When I think of her, I think of Autumn..

her hair the toned branches of birch tree's,
complexion the inside of an apple once bitten
it's inside a rich honey core.

You must have confidence, pluck 
to walk in that dress.
Why look down in a dress that fine, 
magnificent even 

how can the ground, the dirts shallow comments 
enhance the beauty of that dress, of the girl wearing it?

a dress is a woman's right, 
it's a synopsis of a feminine heart

flows with grace,
everlasting warmth pouring from the fit, the figure of her body

Her body bountiful and 
persona supple, enough for herself.

Her body, her home too filled with unconditional self
love, that others ego's can not fit, can not take up space.

So girl in the store, young woman to be
pick your head up,
let it not hang like bruised fruit from a fallen branch..

I see behind the nativity, I see eyes, and a mind
with a garden of thoughts, and hopes..

I see that you don't carry yourself well,
you hold your shoulders as slides

so others words, other people's judgement 
slip into your heart,
into those nooks of sensitivity.

I notice your eyes sodden when someone looks,
and you bury your head between your knees looking for comfort 
because you feel as though the world is no supporter,
no shoulder you can lean on.

So dear girl in that vermillion dress,
own what you have.
let that dress be a lesson, let it blend, let it knit into 
your self esteem to portray it's warm, comforting strength.

Because you are strong young girl,
and you mustn't hide child, 
and like I said, the dress you wear is a totem for you
and it will give you the guidance
to believe you are beautiful.

And you are, why else would a poet 
spend her time describing your beautiful soul?

Copyright © Madison Demetros | Year Posted 2017

Details | Ode |

Woman In Love

A woman in love
Is to be
Compared with a
That which wither's
With the slightest ray
Of Sun,
And the saddest thing 
Of all is
That as the evening bloom
A moon began to shine
And yet,
There is no reflection
Only a shadowed frame
Of Mind


Copyright © Gary Fields | Year Posted 2011