Poetry Woman Poems

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

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Details | Light Poetry |

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.
Carol Eastman's Your Favorite Poem by nette onclaud

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2013




Details | Light Poetry |
When a woman is just a woman She's nobody's but her own She embraces truth in life with compassion in her soul When a woman is just a woman There's ambition on her mind There is wisdom in her words and foundations to be kind When a woman is just a woman there's a beauty in her eyes and that beauty reflects journeys travelled through her inner light When a woman is just a woman There' s a sweetness in her smile There's the instinct of a mother with protection for each child When a woman is just a woman She is humble, She is plain She' s a friend, She's a great listener Seeks adventure and not vain When a woman is just a woman She thinks firstly with her heart She gives strength yet begs protection She needs firm securing arms When a woman is just a woman There are secrets still concealed There are alluring mysteries Chapters signed yet unrevealed When a woman is just a woman There is attitude, there is class She is sensual, She is daring She ' s a treasure born to last When a woman is just a woman She shakes stardust in the blues She 's a Lucille Ball and Nelson She ' s the gift of rainbow hues. P.S - ( Nelson mentioned above -for Nelson Mandela ) Pls find in pictures above women who inspired me ,and their quotes Dedicated to all Women on poetrysoup : ) Inspired by Justin's contest : ' When a woman is just a woman ' but not for the contest

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |
                               

                                   ~ A Jealous Woman In Love~

             Since I barely slept I felt ill as tears blinded my vision 
                     heart broken burning with desire to see him 
        to hold him to kiss him love him more and show him that strong will 
                     through my eyes to make him understand 
            I am a woman and should not be judged because I am jealous
                  I am a woman deeply in love how can I not be jealous 
          I am jealous of his sheets caressing his body when we share our bed 
         I am jealous of his hair being part of him all day when I am not with him 
                  even his eyes when he sees the moon instead of me 
      I am jealous of his phone feeling his breath or using a knife and fork to eat                    
              as I only wish at the time to feed him and caress his lips
            Oh! I love him so much that I became jealous of his shadow 
         so jealous I drowned in my thoughts like a fish thrown on the shore 
          by the raging waves trying to breath to survive without the oceans 
                                               salty water.
                          

For the contest of Andrea Dietrich
a poem For The Honor Of My FAVE Poetry.
                                                
Therese Bacha  ( Win No.1)
9/4/2013

Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2013




Details | Light Poetry |
Love went to the liquor store
She bought a bottle
Drank until the bottle was dry
Walked on over to the hardware store
Where there she bought a hunting knife


Love sliced open my chest
Her hands grasped my heart
She had a hearty meal
Dropping her knife
She walked away in the dark

Love stole my heart

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
Such deep amber green eyes
Stare into me
Like arrows that so delicately pierce my heart
She is covered in a curtain of black woven cloth
Ah but her hair flows like caramel 
She is concealed and wrapped, the camouflage of fear
The burka hiding the princess within
I may not see with my eyes
Oh but how my heart dreams
Of running in the meadows, laughter at our own happiness
Her voice is musical, and softly charms my soul
I am lost in illusions, of this woman in chador
She hides inside this blackness
Her heart protected by dragons
In the dragons lair so deep
I gaze intently into this darkness
I breathe the fire of rejection
I have no chance with this maiden of such beauty
You see
Her dress is blue like the summer breeze
Her hair blonde like the golden skies
She is the desire of many a suitor
As she sleeps in the drum tower
High above all of loves intentions
The bailey her only wanderings
As you see the only burka she ever wore
Was around her heart

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014

Details | Romanticism |
Pursue love,
the love that has no meaning,
the silver ports of the moon,
shine so bright,
that it blinds you in the twilight
she is beautiful and she is divine
she is the song sang by the sweet nightingales
in the gardens of worthy, overgrowning and blooming roses,
like wildfire grow tall and the thornes of the vines
tangle around her feet and drag her ever so slightly
throughout the garden of beauty.
As the roses lay along a table,
as she sits at the table
and she waits for me, the wordman
to come to the dinner table at the stroke of nine
and sit with her,
start a scene or two of romantic setting,
to pursue love in her name.
Love is around us,
the candlelight shines and reflects in her silk hair,
as her evening dress glitters and shines
and her bossom shows itself in the nightsky
as we lay together,
we pursue a dream together,
forever we live together forever,
as we stand upon the belcony of Romeo and Juliet's love scene
we swim in a pool of sweet divine care and love,
we swallow grapes and drink wine
hand and hand on Persian rugs and virgin white cloth sheets,
we dance to a simple, yet sweet Chopin's masterpiece
of his beautiful nocturnes,
which make such a sweet and romantic song in our heads.

We stomp out the flames
as we dance the night away,
and you lay in my arms,
and I kiss you upon your lovely head,
and you hold my hand,
and I hold you tight
never thinking of letting your love go away from me,
I would take my own life,
before I lose your love.
See us together,
it is a painting that lasts lifetimes,
that needs no touch-ups.
I care for you and love you!
Love me, I know you will.

My sweet and loving portrait lady,
who in reality is more beautiful than a fully bloomed rose
that sits on its green stem,
in the garden of beauty that sits outside my window.
Come up to my chambers
as I picked roses for you and pettles litter the atmosphere
as love's tension grows
and suspence brings us together,
let us make love tonight
seal the passion
and pursue love once and for all.

Then shall we wake with the first rays of the blazing of the morning sun,
I shall wake next to your beauty and glory,
and I shall point my attention to the heavens
and thank the Gods for sending you on the open road,
toward my chamber door, I call my heart.
Then we shall dress, and walk the pathways
in the garden of beauty
and I shall pick a bauquet of roses
and we shall sit by the lake and pursue our love
for one another
and nothing, not one earthquake shall shake us apart.

-9/26/2013-

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Limerick |
Cross eyed woman had a nasty fall after running into a brick wall she was hit over the head with a big loaf of bread while trying to play basketball. Copyright Cynthia Jones Sept.23/2004

Copyright © Cynthia Jones | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
I was born a woman body full of curves an soft blush breasts. One day I awoke wanting to tell someone wanting to confess. I like women the ones of my own sex. I love the way they look and move. I love the feel and the smell of a woman's body. I've met a young woman and this i believe is real. She means the world to me,yet I was put on earth to give my heart and my body to a man. Men have hurt me and let me down to no end. I always knew I was differnt from my freinds afraid to let them know it turned me on to look at them. So I tried to hide behind what society wanted me to be a woman in every way. Until I found love and could no longer deny what I felt. I made love to her the way no man could. she loved the way I touched, held, and caressed her. made her feel things no other could. She asked me when it was done, What sex am I? I told her a woman like you , I just know how you want to feel, she smiled and kissed me again. God forgive me I know it's a sin. I'm in love with a woman what am I to do? God forgive my sins. I'm in love with a woman and it may mean hell.

Copyright © Carolyn Dye | Year Posted 2011

Details | Romanticism |
I am the Blue Poet.
The uneasy man.
Who longs to be loved,
or just to have a friend.

My heart whisphers a low melody
on a faint, cool evening
thinking of her.
Once in my arms,
laying on my bed of roses.
Now she is gone.
I cannot think anymore!
It is hard, to love again,
When all your love has been taken away.
... I am the Blue Poet.

I am the Blue Poet,
That walks the bluish, dawn and dew covered streets
in the the October evenings and nights.
But I tell you, I wasn't always so blue.
No! I was once alive... happy... romantic,
... till Love went away!

Now I sit in the wayward poetry clubs,
drinking club soda and snapping my fingures
to a finished performance on a poem about love.
Written by a soft, spoken seventeen year old girl.

Soon, it is my turn to give my poem a read.
I stand on a lone stage, with a spotlight drownding me in blindness.
I face the faces, who look at me and smile.
A clap, and a cough, bring my head up.
I look out upon the sitting crowd.
To see that one face
that speaks to me,
without the movement of the mouth.
The face never showed though, and my head fell back down.

I start to read.
A vase of emotions kill me and swallow me up.
I try to hold back tears, but no more could I halter.
I finished, with a salty tear, rolling down my rough and oiled cheek.
I leave the crowd at ovation
and leave the women, all with tears in their eyes.

I come down from the stage, leaving the bright spotlight.
I shake hands, give hugs,
and collect my pay, and have another round of club soda.
Then, I go down the midnight alleyways of sprinkled city streets
finding myself a cozy room.

I think of her for a moment,
then off to sleep.
I dream of one time laughs, and hugs and kisses.
I cry in my sleep,
...For I am the Blue Poet.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |

Wrestling Verses


Spilling ink onto paper,
reading tea-leaves,

fragments of mirth,
shards of anguish,

remain,
trapped in rolled-up sleeves.


Turning up my collar,
as blue as these days that slip by,

scattered verses plunge into,
the fathoms of unknown waters.


My ink runs, slips, treading lightly,
penning odes to love on bare skin,

your skin,
your bare back my canvas,

my fingers tracing, caressing, scribbling,
homages to our laughter, our tears.


Wrestling verses,

lie spent, exhausted,
famished and parched from saying too much,

still,

my fingers tickle your soft skin,

my ink would run dry,

were it not for your gentle touch

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
I look in the mirror and what do I see
Who is that person looking at me?
I look round the back but no one is there
I don’t recognise, her she gives me a scare.
I check for the glass, my fingers touch it,
It’s cool and it’s silky, but the face does not fit.
Who is this person looking at me?

Nan told me once of the woman in the glass.
‘She gave me a fright I can tell you lass.
I walked past the mirror and what did I see
This old woman standing staring at me.
She came and haunted me every day,
I talked to her nicely and asked her to go away.
Day after day she visited often,
One day my sweet child it will then be your turn.’

I remember my Nan telling me these words,
I look at the reflection and it seems absurd
For standing in the mirror looking at me
Is a woman like my Nan or a facsimile.

Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme |
What is the world,
But an oyster to you?
What are other people,
If not aids to help you

What purpose do you serve?
What do you know how to do?
Nothing. Nothing at all
But sit, waiting for someone to save you.

You poor damsel
Always in distress
I wish I could respect you
But you're just too helpless

Other people use their legs,
Their feet, and their brain
You know one day,
You should do the same

But you would rather be a burden
It really is a shame
I think you like to struggle
You want life to be a pain

You poor damsel
Always in distress
I wish I could respect you
But you're just too helpless

Things could be better
If you would at least try
But that means you actually have to do something,
You prefer to just cry

Cry and complain
Complain, moan and sigh
"World look at me, please!
Or else I'll die"

You poor damsel
Always in distress
I wish I could respect you
But you're just too helpless

One day I pray you learn
To do things by yourself
Instead of choosing not to move
Without the assistance of someone else

One day no one will be there
To hear you when you call
And the world won't stop
To brace your fake fall

You poor damsel
Always in distress
I wish I could respect you
But you're just too helpless

Copyright © Ashley Chanel | Year Posted 2016

Details | Light Poetry |
A woman's heart

my father always told me
"son don't go breaking no hearts
if you can't take a woman to the finish line
then don't go making any false starts

don't take a woman hearts for granted
treat her with kindness and respect
make her feel special and wanted 
never make her cry and feel neglect

for god created woman as a gift 
for a man to honor, cherish and love 
they are our heaven on earth
our beautiful angel from above

the magical wonders of a woman
has no limits or boundaries to retrieve
with a good woman beside you
"son "there's nothing that you can't achieve

the words my father has spoken
it has never left my ears
and his wisdom and understanding
I carry with me throughout the years

one day I will find a good woman
and I will ask her to be my wife
and I shall treat her like a princess
love and cherish her for the rest of her life

the woman who gets my heart
will own it from now and forever
and I will fill her life with happiness
every second that we spend together

and I will take her to Trinidad and Tobago
Trinidad is the country where I was born
and will introduce her to all the tasty dishes
and see the sunrise at the break of dawn

and we will take walks on the beach
holding hands under the moonlight
and if the sea breeze makes her cold
I will hold her in my arms all night

yes the woman that I will love 
will be the queen of all queens
the diamond of all diamonds
the wish of my every dream

until I meet this beautiful woman 
who will be the one to share my life
I will continue to write my poems
knowing one day my angel will arrive

and will cover me with her love
like the sun over the seven seas
as my father looks down from heaven
proud of the man that I have come to be

Copyright © kasim ishmael | Year Posted 2016

Details | Light Poetry |
SHADY LADY   
There once was a lady who loved to face the sun
      Following it as it crossed the sky,
Particularly between the hours of eleven to one.
      But  no one could figure out why.
Some said to develop a sunny disposition
      To overcome a previous condition
For  it was rumored that this lady
      Had a background that was shady.

Copyright © Stanley Ohlswager | Year Posted 2016

Details | Light Poetry |
Proof is in the pudding
She's the best slice of the pie
God knew what he was doing
With this apple of his eye

She is the strength that matters
The glue that we cling to
Out loud gorgeous in her laughter
Large proportions of the truth

Morning's light that holds the daybreak
Steady in its place
The taste of morning glory
In the fragrance that she makes

Happy in the ever after 
Mystery in the clue
The way when it is made clear
Brand in the spanking new

One highly to be honored
Above all that can be found
On her love has been garnered 
In her, beauty does abound

Copyright © Mike Hauser | Year Posted 2017

Details | Light Poetry |
A real man with morals and principles would never abuse a lady
how can a man beat a woman and drive her to nothing but fear
gone are the days when a man treats a woman the way he should
not saying that there aren't men like that but honestly they are rare

How can a man kiss a woman and then tell her that she is beautiful 
yet when they disagree he is quick to slap her across the face
all my life I was taught that I should always have respect for a woman
so if I should abuse one to my family I would be the biggest disgrace

Any man that would hit a woman to me is nothing more than a coward
have you ever considered that she is somebody's aunt or their mother 
I would never condone a man physically abusing his wife or girlfriend
I don't care who that man is it could be my best friend or even my brother

How would you feel if a man turns around and beats your only sister
I can imagine the threatening remarks or even the action you would take
you swear on your life that you would defend any female in your family 
yet you hurt another man's family you are not a real man you are a fake

I could never beat or abuse the woman that I say I love and care about 
the only time I would put my hands all over her is during our lovemaking
I was thought from a tender age that a woman's strength is her mouth 
so I would save my energy for the makeup which is always breathtaking

women don't be fooled if a man hits you doesn't means that he cares 
he tells you how soft your skin is yet he beats you all over your body 
he then comes and apologizes and tells you how much he loves you 
and later the process replays like beating you is his biggest hobby

a woman's skin is so soft and her touch is so delicate and tender 
and yet a man sees it fit to hit her this is something I can't understand 
I am glad I can stand and say that beating a woman is ethically wrong
I could never hit a woman and this makes me proud to call myself a man

so if you are a man that beats your woman honestly you sick my stomach
how could you say you love her yet you destroy her beautiful features 
I think men like you should be condemned to hell on judgment day
I'm asking the real men to join the fight against all women beaters

By: Marlon Malcolm

Copyright © Marlon Malcolm | Year Posted 2017

Details | Light Poetry |
“You know,” said Marge
to a friend: “Mirrors aren’t
what they used to be;
they’ve changed somehow.
“Years ago,” she continued,
“they were up front with truth;
now they’re all liars.
Frankly, I can’t take them
at face value anymore.”

Copyright © Maurice Rigoler | Year Posted 2018

Details | I do not know? |
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 |
Put a bullet in my brain
as the rain sweeps her out of my arms
and places her into another's.
Put a bullet in my brain
for I don't want to see love slip away
please end my suffering,
for I don't want to dare see her in the arms of another man.

I fear the tear that slips away from my soul
and touches the ground with a splash
as she is washed away by the lashed memories of the rain,
please, someone put a bullet in my brain.

I can't bear to see her with another man
laying in his arms
as he charishes her beauty
just like I did to her.
As she smiles and laughs at his jokes
my heart would not bare the sorrow and pain
that would tare my heart apart into pieces of tainted love.
Please tell the rain to stop,
as the pain grows when rain comes down,
please someone end my suffering,
put a bullet in my brain
and stop the rain
that washes away every memory of her.

Stop saying you miss me
and just kiss me
for I can't take the pain
of the rain that takes you away.
Kiss me and stop saying you miss me
for those are useless words to me.
Love is where it's at, so show me.
Don't go with him, he'll treat you wrong.
Love and laugh with me till the break of dawn
as we yawn the long night away.

Kiss me and don't say you miss me.
For if you go away from me,
I couldn't bare to take a tear and waste it away.
Tears, sweet tears crying for you,
doesn't that mean anything to you?
I ask you, stop the rain,
stop the pain and put that bullet in my brain.

Let the red blood flow from my temples.
Let the plow dig my grave,
for I can't bare to see you with another
in his arms, him kissing you, where I kissed you.
I can't take it, I have to make it,
make that pain go away.
Prayer didn't help, God turned a blind eye
when I came up and said why!
Put that bullet in my dome
and when I lay in the coffin, looking at the roof of the church
you come and kiss me, and then you can really say
that you'll miss me.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
Old Roger is dead and gone to his grave,
Hum,ha! gone to his grave.

They planted an apple tree over his head,
Hum,ha ! over his head.

The apples grew ripe and ready to drop,
Hum,ha ! ready to drop.

There came a high wind and blew them all off,
Hum,ha ! blew them all off.

There came an old woman to pick them all up,
Hum,ha ! pick them all up.

Old Roger got up and gave her a knock,
Hum,ha ! gave her a knock.

Which made the old woman go hipperty hop,
Hum,ha ! hipperty hop.

Copyright © NWANDO OBIANYOR | Year Posted 2007

Details | Rhyme |
They were Meriwether Lewis and William Clark,
Her name was Sacagawea.
On an expedition they did embark
Finding the passage to the sea.

Down the Missouri they traveled, 
Then slithered 'round the Snake River bend.
Rocky Mountain weather and sickness battled;
At the Columbia River they'd end. 



©2013 Honestly JT

Copyright © Honestly J.T. | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
Sister Aimee

An angel in white floated down from the heavens
Onto a small farm in the northern land of Salford
Illumination and imagination combined
She was divine and with inspiration, sublime

Inquisitive eyes shone out from this beautiful creature
Her airs and twinkle surely from above were derived
She questioned the existence of the god, her creator
What child would not ponder the universe and nature?

She wanted to save the world
A one angel salvation army with a smile
A romantic with desires of angelic love
She was humble, her knowledge was from above

She knew the tongues of many men
Languages’ known, languages’ today unspoken
Her worldly desires to preach, affection to mankind
She became a Semple lady, united in humanity no matter how blind

Around the world
Singing praises of the lord
Malaria left her alone with child assured
A Star was yet to rise

Head strong and a heart of gold
Her children grew up with god’s undying love
She was not one to take a back seat
Her gift was her message; she delivered from a heavenly stage

In the city of Angels, a miracle born
The temple of Angels
The fiery flaming fascinating preacher of immaculate beauty
Would rise to god’s glory, a message to be celebrated and adored

On the shores of a beach long ago
The white angel of the lord disappeared from the shore
The devils monsters accused of devouring her whole
Her followers waiting patiently for a resurrection to show

The ultimate Kiss was to awake her
From south where the water is brown with evil sin
She wandered back to her own echoes
Now to be spectacular, heavens evangelical angel 

A sensuous sermonizer, a preacher of love
She fed the poor during depressing times
Her hand would cure the sick and wayward
She brought the values of the ancients, to modern times

Angels often do not sleep
So in the year of 1944 she was recalled above
Her work her on earth a splendid score
Now in heavens, she leads the choir of angels

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
Such an Amazing girl god put into my life.

He knew i needed you at that exact time

Funny when we met I thought you were to good for me

But when you approached me the sweetest girl I did meet.

From that day on we have never truly been apart cause I

carry you around everywhere in my heart. You have been the

rock when I needed a friend around, you have been the light

when the darkness consumed me and took away my sunshine

Even when were miles apart the phone connects us and keeps

our strongest bond. 17 years feels like such a short time but

I feel I have always had you in my life. Soul Sisters we were

meant to be.. You my beloved friend are such a fresh breeze

Even after a year apart it was like yesterday that we did part

so through the many miles and through the long hard road

I know this friendship will always survive. Your a burst of joy

to me each day I thank the Lord for the sweet blessing he gave!

BY:Christina McCullouch

7/28/2012

Copyright © Christina McCullouch | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |
Sometimes my poetry is just a case of words, 
and not necessarily my reality;                                     
and that’s what is so beautiful about writing

You can be who you want to be on any level 
and tell secrets about fantasies that may never be;  
or take trips to other dimensions on mental journeys,                                                                        or places that some don’t even think exist

They mimic thoughts that manifest themselves as poetry 
and rest on pages patiently waiting to adhere
My words are a reflection of my heart 
and they reveal the truth behind my mask of fear
they deliver reality doses  whether they are just cases, 
or me in the absolute right here

My words exude positive intentions; 
my imperfections apparent but I accepted rejections 
and reversed dejection  
and decided to bare all my fantasies, my flaws my very soul 
and temptations

Uncertain how voiced verses appeal to outside sources but internally they set me free
They provide a medium of light and creativity
A chance to apply knowledge and a time for reflecting on and making changes in my frequency
My words are attached to my soul and its overwhelming ability to just be
They reflect what I was before         
the choices I’ve made and the reasons that this life is perfect 
according to divine order

They represent the voices of my ancestors from the beginning of time 
because up until now, 
the ending wasn’t within reach so I make sure that I
carefully choose the format and the right place and time 
to deliver the message that may be blatant or hidden inside – 
of the abstract placements of verbs
giving praise to the source of power that calmly submits to the voice 
connected to my words
I am the originator of my own words
I hope that you are inspired, or simply entertained
by the process by which I've placed my words

Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012

Details | Romanticism |
Goodnight my Fair Maiden,
I shall see you once again.
In the year of our Lord,
At the gloomy dawn of Mankind.
As the Red Sun reaches over the treeline,
Far in the East.
I shall see you again.

Don't fear our love,
For my love for you is eternal.
Too see this eternal love
I have for you,
It is hard to feel and very diffcult to see.

When you wake the next morning
and escape your long night of slumber
and your surrealist life,
being played in a cloud of imagination.
You'll soon come to reality 
and find me there.
Knocking upon your chamber door.

Come now!
Get dressed in your evening, silk dress.
and let us go dance under the stars,
till the moon falls to the West and the Sun rises in the East.
Oh, how you are a lovely dancer and how the twilight shines bright
along you shinny and silk laced hair.

And your hair my sweet and fair maiden,
oh, how I love to see it bounce with life
when you twirl and dance into my arms.

You are beautiful and I wish I couldn't leave you,
but as the day turns to night, I have to leave.
I wish I could take you on a long walk through the parks
and courtyards, and walk along the sprinkled streets of the cities filled with life.
Pick you a beautiful bouquet of roses from the gardens of beauty and give them to you
with surprise.

I love you so much
My love for you is indeed hard to tell to you,
but I can show you.
Tomorrow though, for tonight I must say...
Goodnight my Fair Maiden.
For tomorrow you'll be in my arms once again.

Goodnight my Fair Maiden
I shall leave you with a kiss that shall last a lifetime.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |


I am the other woman!

I am the other woman!
What woman am I?
Does she look like me?
I smile, laugh and get things done
I am the other one.
He asked me to leave for her
She wants what I want,
But he doesn't notice
He tells everyone how he can't go on 
With me being the one,
So I look outside to find my pride
And I notice a man sitting on a porch
And he says to me,
Hi, are you in a hurry
No, I reply and then with a sigh,
I ask why,
Because I'm looking for a mate to whom I can relate
And I stare back at him,
Did he just hear me leave?
The wind blew through the trees
And I realized why I am worried,
About what he just asked,
To make room for her
When I know from all my studying and all my experience
That all I have to do is stand,
Because I am the other Woman!

Copyright © Lashawn Wilkins | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry |
Boys boys boys boys

She has red hair
She was blonde last month
She maybe another next month, next week, or tomorrow 
She loves them boys
She always goes for the married ones, mostly
She likes them small, short
Well maybe not small but short
      You feel me
She also likes them exotic

I've had the honor to meet 'em all

Let's start with C, yea this one is a difficult case for me
We never get along, I can't stand him
He thinks he's all that
Maybe it's his bling bling, his taste of shine and diamond, the rims in his cars that gets her

Lets move to M, okay this is a cute one
Very handsome, mouthwatering and even down to earth! 
It's this one that brings her from her station all the way to his so she can just sit next to him
And flirt, and smile, and play with her hair as she hungrily eyes him
A woman on heat

Let's move to R, I love him
He is so quiet and manly and with his style, he only demands respect
So smart
He says very little, he is one to hunt for
The curiosity is her trap on this one

Let's move to another R
This one has a baby face, even when he talks
So cute!
But he's got two babies you know, so don't let that baby face fool you
Maybe it's his 'naivety' that roars the tiger in her

And then E, hahaha, lol
This one brings out the naughty in me
He makes me say things I shouldn't say
But what the heck? Am old now, I can say whatever
He is always hot, literally! 
Keeping them jokes sweaty is what she does with him

And then T, the least of the group coz he ain't married!
This one has PLAYER written all over him
From his sweet talk, to his touches, to his sexy smile
He has learnt his game well
This one doesn't entertain her as much

I watch her as she does her thing
We watch her, and shake our heads
I find her entertaining 
Men, I don't remember having that much energy when I was twenty
One of this days, a wife of one these catches will show up when she is all over her man and someone will get a beating 
One of these days, she will be married but she will also be haunted by the thoughts of some young chick all over her man, like she does

Copyright © njeri hunjeri | Year Posted 2015

Details | Romanticism |
From the Gardens of Babylon,
to the walkways of Palestina,
to the grand temples of Jerusalism,
to the sandy beaches of Syria and Cyprus.
Went my Persian Queen riding,
upon her golden, firery chariot.

Her black hair, like silk long and flowing.
Her royal robes white and purple, bare and pure.
Her sword by her side, ready to strike.
Her spear fastened, ready to stab the dreeded heart
of the Fire Dragon.
On the firery chariot, riding with her armies,
Went my Perisan Queen.

O, how my arimes fight your armies,
in the midst of night fall, under a full moon.
Let us stop this foolish fighting.
And have fellow brother, love fellow brother.
And so we can fall in love forever.

And don't act like you don't show love for me.
I see you in the dawns, standing upon the sand covered battlefields.
Standing proud behind your armies.
With your black hair flowing.
You almost making me want not to fight the battle of the Day,
for if you were killed, what victory would that be then?

You pull your armies back at the last minute, before I am slayed
by your fellow brother in arms.
You retreat your arimes back over the hills, not in fear of losing the day,
but in fear of losing me.
You and your armies had plenty of chances to kill me, yet you do not.

My Persian Queen, O come now.
Come down from your firery chariot
and into my restless arms.
I know you are tired
and wanting to sleep.

Listen to the nightingale
sing her love song.
Drinking the sweet necture,
from the gardens, in your vase Persian Empire.

Come now, and kiss me,
Hold me, let us ride,
far from the simple minds of the Old World
and fall in love in a New.

My Persian Queen
O how I love you so much.
I cannot bare to see you in a life you don't want to live.
Come let I, your Knight in shinning armour liberate you.
Take you by the hand, run through the great bazzare in Old Istanbul
running away from the Janissaries of your father's Imperial armies.

Let us leave this place of hate and sorrow.
To start our lives a new.
My Persian Queen,
Now dressed in silk lace,
with golden jewlery hanging
from your beautiful and tender neck.
Along with the silver pattened belt around your harmonial waist.

It is time for you, to come with me.
No more shall we act like we dispise one another.
As Romeo and Juliet's love failed,
shall our love take course, and we shall love
till the oceans swallow the earth, the mountains crumble,
and the Sun engulf the sweet Earth.
And on and on shall our love go on,
My adorable and lovely Persian Queen.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
Winter nights, the darkness comes quick
Key in door, to an empty house
Jacket falls fast right on the floor
I stare at the stand, at the telephone for sure

There she sits, alone, unmoving
No blinking light
No message at all
From a lovers voice or even a call from the mall

The ritual is the same, night after night
I pick up the phone, yes dial tone is there
I check the wires, all attached with great care
Its not broken, same as this morning

I confess, yes I stare at the phone over there

The phone is a functioning, I am assured
I call the weather line, yes a test but I was bored
They tell me is all sunny up over yonder
So no one calls me, of this I must ponder

I confess yes I stare, at the dark phone sitting there

Maybe the answering system parts are malfunctioning
Maybe she really did some exotic oh calling
Oh what I am saying, she’s out to the ball
While I look at telephone, alone in the hall

I confess yes I stare, I stare and stare

So another night, outside shines the bright city lights
I open the door to the darkness in fright
For oh my god, I see a blinking light
My heart beats in excitement, this is surely the night

I stare at a ringing telephone

Oh my what a delight!!!!!!!!

Click
Wrong number

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |
Every moment I can't see your face;
These are the days and nights when I miss you.
I ask that you stay for always,
On sunny days and when it rains too.

If I speak to another pretty dame,
She's not the flame inside that grows.
In my heart you will remain;
This one thing I'd like you to know.



©2013 Honestly JT
For Skat -Love's "Under 10" Poetry Contest

Copyright © Honestly J.T. | Year Posted 2013