Writing Women Poems

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Details | Concrete |
                            She is                                          He's                             
                          a woman                                      a fine man
                       with a pretty                                  within his big
                        face and an                                 head, he has a
                         attitude of                                     simple plan. 
                            purity                                          To woo her
                             and                                                 and to
                            grace.                                               soothe
               She has strong shoulders,                         her as much as
            where you can rest your head                     he can.  He gives
           between two succulent boulders.               from his heart as he
          She has wit and charm. With such                has from the very
          grace       she is surely        armed.             start. It's all in his
          Your        heart she will         take.              nature to reach out 
            But     she'll be your best      mis-            his hand and take her.  
             take. Her hips sway as you feel                But somehow as you 
                  your heart carried away.                  have seen, there's much
                  In no time at all you will      standing in between. He knows
                   feel her heat from your      he must alter his approach, gets
                      head to your feet.                          her a golden broach. 
                      When you're amid                           His legs start to
                      fleshy        thighs,                            quiver as her
                       you'll          emit                                 thighs                        
                       sexy          sighs                                make him
                       but             you                                  shiver. 
                       will             see                                  Yes she
                       what           they                                 yearns
                       all do          see,                                  him so,
                       a girl           that                                  but he
                       is so            very                                  might
                      womanly.       A woman in                      never        
                       three letter     high stilletto.                   know.                   
                        t                   t                                 because
                        o                  o                          she has to go.
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Copyright © Rhoda Tripp | Year Posted 2017




Details | Epic |
This pledge that l,Ntando, make today serves
as my guideline that I shall follow
happily, ungrudgingly and tirelessly
for the sake of our love life.
Indeed l am well aware of the fact that
the beauty of this pledge does not only lie
in word alone but in action as well.

For that reason in every season
I shall show steadfast commitment
to the implementation of this pledge
with a great deal of astuteness.
I therefore commit myself to be your
devoted and delivering husband for
all the years l shall live with you
on this earth.

I shall treat you with the love and care
you deserve as my wife.
Indeed l shall treat you with
the distinction and dignity
that is befitting of the queen of my heart.
That body, that bone, that breath
shall be my mine to treasure,
for sure;
a dearness to promote and protect
for dear life…and love!
I shall stand by and with you in all the
situations of our life.
If the situation demands that we sail,
sail we shall together.
If the situation demands that we
climb,
climb we shall together.

I know very well what l am getting into:
I am getting into a marriage that is
overflowing with blessings.
This marriage- with our mutual
commitment-
will stand the test of time.
I know very well what I am getting into:
I am getting into a relationship that
brims over with a transforming power
of love.

This marriage-with our
mutual commitment –
will transform naivety into maturity
troubles into challenges
pretence into practice
pride into progress
bachelorship into companionship.
I pledge to be your steward and partner
for all times.

I shall value the consultations
and decisions that we make as
husband and wife.
As head of the family I shall do nothing

 

to derail our love train for anything else
least of all for personal and selfish reasons.
Now and forever

I am your lawful and loving husband…
This pledge that l, Nothando, make today serves
as my guideline that I shall follow
happily, ungrudgingly and tirelessly
for the sake of our love life.
Indeed I am well aware of the fact that
the beauty of this pledge does not only
lie in pronouncements but in practice
as well.

For this reason every season
I shall demonstrate untiring love
and loyalty to you;
a love and a loyalty that is a living
embodiment of our marriage vows.
I therefore commit myself to be your
honouring, supportive and loving wife
for all the years l shall live with you.
I shall treat you with the love and care
that you deserve as my husband.
Indeed I shall treat you with
the dignity and nobility that is befitting
of the king of my heart.
On my mind it is always fresh
that I am the flesh of your flesh.
Green or grown

I am the bone of your bone.
I know very well what I am getting into:
I am getting into a relationship that
elevates me into a kingdom of wifehood.
I shall endevour to put my family first
with all the rights, obligations
and privileges that come with wifehood.
I shall endevour to wipe off and ward off
loneliness and lostness from our relationship,
seeking nothing but your companionship;
banking on your stewardship,
sinking together any hardship.
Since you are mine
I shall not do anything else to undermine
our relationship for personal
or egotistical
reasons.
Now and forever
I am your lawful and loving wife…

Copyright © Ndaba Sibanda | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |
I LOVE THEE I am no voluptuous beauty nor do I live a life of purity I can only say: I love wholeheartedly with all I am so truthfully I keep my heart open though it gets hurt so often I avoid to be irate as I know love changes the heart rate.. Guys tried to coo and woo, they say words as for "only you" Yet, hard to believe it is true as I see some untrue I give chances as my heart marks with tact entrances I learned from various instances looking man in romances In places where rules impede, two persons who wants to bid Not of money but of affection, in them must be determination I love thee not of what you have… Not even of who you are but to how you are to me… If I love you, don't tell me much what to do… As me, myself will show you, I am that real and true.. Yes, I am liked by many but tell you what: I don't like this honey nor am I proud of it in anyway One is enough to make me stay Stand with me through it all, I give my best not to fall My name your sweetest call echoing in every wall.. Hold me firm yet dear; allow me to move closely We'll make it anyhow, treading smoothly on flows... We are strong, aren't we? No one moving alone Together we'll face phases in tune, though there will dunes.. ________________________________________________________ © OLIVE ELOISA D. GUILLERMO 3:25 pm, 07/13/2013 ***CONTEST: ANY POEM GOES #13 SPONSOR: POET DESTROYER 8TH PLACE (TO GOD BE THE GREATEST GLORY) ***Sponsor SKAT A Contest Name Any Old Poem #5 4th place

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2013




Details | ABC |
WOMEN ARE EVIL - men ARE stupid

Women are evil, men are stupid
when it comes to affairs of the heart, the arrow of cupid
It's sometimes a game that a broken love plays
so clever these women creating such disarray

Men go in like idiots, hook line and sinker 
not seeing clearly hidden by blinkers
whilst being ridden, women take men for a ride
there is almost always something sinister lurking inside

To manipulate, all they do is spread legs,for in truth men are just dumb ****s
all they think of is shooting their muck
so to summarize the last statement so easy to control
such a fixation men have on that sweet juicy hole

A nine month period a baby after this
a time when women can truly take the piss
i know men can be such bastards but in short women have the evil last laugh
they will hurt you so easily with there vengeful wrath

From restrictions on kids, to doing your best mate
as i said, just opening legs men just take the bait 
yes there are enlightened ones like myself, who recognize this 
still with my kid a women controls me and takes the piss

Men are from Mars, women are from Venus
wouldn't it be funny if i was a women with a *****
 just to clarify so you understand 
 i could have an evil intention coupled with a stupid plan
 

If i had the mind, genetics and equipment equal from each sex
i could get ****ed,**** also cry from cruel texts
i could start a campaign to change how both parties can be
i'd be the one to set both men and women free  

Okay there would still in the future be a few underground freaks 
would have the evil, stupid thing going on, not taking in my speech 
but it's just my thoughts, this will obviously never be
one can only dream, loose oneself in a fantasy

For those who hear my words, take in all that i write
men will always be stupid they will never see the light
so women can continue being evil playing their evil game
today, tomorrow, the future will always be the same
 
For while women have a pussy, a sweet juicy hole
that will always be the ticket to gain easy control
its like dangling a carrot on a string in front of a donkey
they are the organ grinders we are the monkeys

Men are dominant and strong, women are subservient and weak
whosoever made this bold and silly statement, let the ****ers speak
men are stupid, women are evil and clever
to be honest i see no change, it will be this way forever

Poem by Paul Powell  20/06/08

Copyright © Paul Powell | Year Posted 2013

Details | ABC |
You send bolts through my skin 
something I was never to 
accomplish with you, when I 
saw you it's like my heart sank 
to my stomach and I was in 
shock my body still my body 
heavy felt like when I moved I 
was about to fall to my knees 
you make me want to get 
inside my brain pick you up and 
take you out pick you one by 
one like a flower because I do 
love you and love you not.

Copyright © brittney lopez | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |
All men (the loser boyfriends/husbands) think that it's their right to be physically, mentally, and verbally abusive toward their female companions (girlfriends/wives), well they're wrong. Most guys are always beating their girlfriends/wives up every single day just because they didn't make their men dinner, do chores around the house, or whatever. It seems that these womanizing losers are way better than their women. Actually, they're not; they're idiots. Controlling these women and being physically, mentally, and verbally abusive toward them don't make these Neanderthals men; they're like childish cowards. All guys think that they're the only breadwinners in their families and the women aren't. But guess what--they're not; some of them don't have jobs. And does anyone knows what gets on my nerves? Men always cheating on their girlfriends/wives with other women, getting them pregnant, and not taking care of the children they already have. And those controlling, abusive men, they're always telling their female spouses/lovers what to do, what to eat, where to look, and who to talk to. I mean, who are these womanizing losers to judge other men and to boss these women around? I mean, who does that? Everybody doesn't even know why they'd bother spending the rest of their lives with those abusive idiots. This whole saying by these controlling abusive men have been getting on everybody's nerves and my nerves, as well: "You're-not-to-speak-unless-spoken-to," this "You're-not-to-talk-to-your-family" ordeal, this whole "You're-not-to-have-guy-friends," and this whole "You need me! You're nothing without me! You have no money! You have no friends! Everything's in my name: the house, the cars, clothes, everything I own! You're useless! You're worthless! I own you for life! And you will respect me!" Where I come from, the rest of us nicer guys, we treat our women with the respect they rightfully deserve. The last time I checked, the mothers have raised their sons to treat women and other people with respect, but they now know where they've gone wrong with those womanizing clowns. My suggestion for the women is for them to leave their abusive husbands/boyfriends before it's too late because if they don't, they'll end up in the hospital or the morgue. To be honest, these women, they never should've met, let alone dated or married those abusive men to begin with. And if these abusive men think that they can control those women forever, they've got another coming.

Copyright © Brashard Bursey | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme |
Where I'm from we don't do debts, fronts, or take tabs
They don't understand nothing but stashing cash
Put that money on the head, you don't need a mask
They don't understand nothing but stashing cash
How is a broke fool gon' try and smash
They don't understand nothing but stashing cash

Money on my mind like bread on a sandwich

I run the city, they're the lights, I'm the switch

I stand for what's mine, never see me slip and fall

I'm runnin' the race, you're a baby with a slow crawl

My cash stay on point, like a sharpened pencil

Try 'n' copy my style, you gon' need mo' than a stencil

I don't be's in the trap, buy my workers put-in overtime

Feds can't catch me, never see me committin' crime

That's why from time to time I shoot 'em a raise

And tell 'em to stash cash for those rainy days

If money talk, then there's nothing to say

If B.S walk, none of ya' fools can stay

My money talkin' for me, betta' yet, it's in a conversation

Ya' look like money; make money, nice observation

They say the love of money's the root of all evil

So how much money will it take to really love people

Copyright © Arcene Janvier | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |
My physical lusts each and every cut, rip, and peck on his body my intellectual craves his thoughts, opinions, and charisma, my emotional wants to laugh, cry, and embrace his deepest feelings. Yet my emotional abundance does not captivate him, my intellectual determination does not appeal to him it is my physique alone that attracts his mind, body, and soul. It is the complexion of my skin that caught his attention, it is the reflection of my smile that made him acknowledge my presence, it is the kink in my hair that preserved his interest, the seduction in my eyes that tempted his spirit, the curves on my body that infatuated his sexual desires, and my forbidden fruit that took his whole being into euphoria yet my mind and soul is yet to be explored! My physical body has been pleasured time and time again but my emotional and intellectual elements remain untouched like the footprints on the moon!

Copyright © Nicolette Holness | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |
He says he loves me then he says he loves me not
He loves me today but by tomorrow I'm forgot 
He runs from my love but returns wanting more
I guess I'm to blame for letting the traveler explore, 
See travellers just wander and are never here to stay
They admire the scenery and enjoy the display 
They tour the land and ride the attractions
So memories become their only subtractions,
They search for an experience that is what they yearn
The condition once they leave is none of their concern!
So how can the land be devoted and true 
When travellers come and go out of the blue.
The present is now and where he's travelled to,
But the past he calls home so he must return soon
Most likely just a visit although time can only tell, 
But what he lusts is in this land and he knows it very well
He may call that place home but its this land that he seeks
Travellers on a mission never realize until they hit their peek
He continues to damage this land down to its core 
So what's left to offer when their is nothing left in store?
The resources were depleted and the land left bare
He comes and goes as he pleases it doesn't seem fair;
See this land has been abused time and time again
Seeds that were planted, were means to an end
But pleasure and satisfaction was always accomplished
Because this land provided where the homeland was disadvantaged!
But despite the history and despite the trust
Submit to his urges is something he must.
So this time around his departure is permanent 
Lack of faith and loyalty was the final determinant.
The damage he caused cannot be rendered,
So his visitation rights he has surrendered!
So leave this land I say and never look back
This is the path you chose I hope you can stay on track,
Cause travellers have memories of the lands they have stained
But the land only remembers the one that remained!

Copyright © Nicolette Holness | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Things get bad, then they get good again.
You can write yourself angry.
You can write yourself sick.
But never
ever
should you write yourself sorry.

The world, to me, is many things:
A canvas, a movie, a place to store
everything you are and will ever be,
but never a bell jar.

As long as your hands can shake
and your voice can quiver,
never close the door.

Love the ground under your feet,
and your only sadness 
will be that a blanket of sky 
can't keep off the cold. 

Smile with every breath you take, 
and you'll realize that, 
no matter how much you weep,
you will never fill an ocean.

Look inside your heart:
There's answer there.
You'll find,
deep in an oblivion of night,
there is a light somewhere.

It may not be much light,
but it's brighter than darkness.
Follow it.

If you seek, you will find 
yourself always involved in 
something,
and as long as that door never closes,
whatever something will be enough.

I promise.

Copyright © jes russick | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epic |
Everybody knows that it's against the law for grown men and grown women to date all of the underage boys and girls,. let alone a 14-year-old boy or a 15-year-old girl. The law also states that any adult who tries to have this so-called "intimate sexual relationship" with any of the underage boys and/or girls would likely go to jail for a period of time and upon release, they'll have to be register sex offenders for the rest of their lives. It seems that those teen girls would rather date men in their 20's or 30s than guys their age and those teen boys would rather date women twice their age than girls their age, as well. but luckily, their parents (the mothers and the fathers) are here to prevent these so-called "May-December" relationships from ever happening, especially when they're protecting their teenage offspring from dirt-bags like these would-be pedophiles. But no matter what the parents do, no matter how hard they try, their teen sons and/or daughters, they secretly continuing dating older men/older women, even at night (midnight, 2 am, or 3 in the morning, e.g.). And the next thing everybody knows, their parents, they will have found out about it; thereby finding them in bed with the adults; their parents should make multiple police reports and pud the cradle robbers behind bars for good. Boy this is starting to look like an episode of "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit" (Season 6-Episode 19-Intoxicated featuring Danielle Panabaker) and an episode of "Snapped," especially when Sarah Johnson killed her own parents in cold blood because she was afraid that the late Mr. and Mrs. Alan and Diane Johnson would send this guy name Bruno Santos to prison or have him deported back to Mexico for statutory rape (by way of dating a then-16-year-old girl). There's no way that those teen boys and teen girls are ever going to get into a bunch of serious, intimate relationships with a bunch of would-be cradle-robbing adults. They need to concentrate on their education and they need to be with guys and girls their age. I mean, one teen boy dating a n adult female? One teen girl dating an older man? My God, their parents will be seriously upset about this. Who on Earth would be dumb enough to fall for an older woman or an older man? And if these would-be pedophiles in the form of grown men and women even attempt to rob these teen boys and girls of their innocence and whatnot, the parents are going to have a problem up in here.

Copyright © Brashard Bursey | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |
As the sun sets
and the twilight comes out,
as the birds and squrriels are no where in sight.

As the whores and pimps sit on street corners,
waiting for street lights to turn from green to red.
As cadillacs stop and roll their windows down.

I can her the faint cry deep in the darkness,
of dirty gutters and dark, dead end alleyways,
I hear the faint tears fall and hit concrete pavement.

I feel the faint cries of whores,
I hear the sound of backhand hitting face
and brused tissue and broken noses are everywhere.

And the somber tears fall onto pillow cases,
and white motel bedsheets run red with blood
and cheap Italian wine.

And you can her the poet over the radio,
reading his own work for the one millionth time
and you can hear his soul slowly wanting to die.

He drowns himself in smoke and alcohol
the whore takes her pay, or spends a night in a jail cell,
the pimp nowhere to be found,
with a shiny blade stuck deep in his gut.

And the somber tears fall gently on the concrete pavement,
the floors of a jail cell,
tears on the pillow case and tears on a lonesome stage.

Tears never present, but are seen by many,
pain aches and pain takes away,
and I pour one more drink for the whore.

She takes me away,
and I caught her salty, somber tear,
and she crawled into my warm embrace.

I was the one who stuck the blade in the gut of that pimp,
who broke her nose and made her bleed,
with a cowardess and souless backhand.

I walk into the moonlight,
hearing the somber tears all around me,
crash violently to the concrete pavement.

The Earth rumbles and erupts with these tears,
that are shead for fellow Men, and Women and Children,
but we all look at ourselves and smile.

Happy we don't pay rent,
happy we don't have cancer,
happy we aren't six feet under;

But we still all cry,
Why?
Somber tears all fall in one big wave

crashing violently on the concrete pavement.
Now the red light turns green,
and the traffic moves along,
the whore is still at her corner,
the pimp still with the blade in his gut.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
My name is “Maryam”, the name of the Prophet Jesus’ mother.
Alhamdulillah I’m a wife of a medical doctor.
I was born in Saudi Arabia in nineteen eighty six.
The language I use, since birth, e’en with my parents is English.
Alhamdulillah with them I’ve traveled to many countries –
From Saudi Arabia, Qatar, the Egyptian pyramids,
Cool countries like England and France, Denmark and U. S. of A.
Indonesia, Singapore and Malaysia where we once planned to stay.
I believe in Allah, I always seek knowledge of Islam,
I love reading Islamic books and teach Islam when I can,
I too enjoy poetry –have been writing since my early teens.
Had a few writings published in a Saudi Fun Times magazine.
I’m friendly in general. I don’t start fights for no reason.
You can tell I dislike someone when I snub or avoid them.
I’m against suicide bombings, against all acts of injustice.
I love the Messenger Muhammad (SallAllahu ‘alaihi wa sallam) and all of God’s Prophets like Jesus and Moses.
I believe that silence is better than constant chit-chatting,
And that enjoining good deeds is better than simply sighing.
I believe that when someone is rude to you they’re just jealous,
And sticking to Islam and good manners is always a must.
If my friends from school were to see me they’d think I’ve changed so much –
Many things I’ve abandoned and wrongdoings my limbs once touched.
I am Maryam –a Muslim and a friend you can always trust.

© Mariam Mababaya.

Copyright © Mariam M. | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epic |
There's no fury like the wrath of a woman scorn. Every woman will have known that they
will have been lied to, cheated on, and deceived by their husbands/boyfriends and will
have driven them over the edge. It seems that these men (the boyfriends/husbands) have
been taking these women (the girlfriends/wives) and what they've done for them for granted
and it's not right. It also seems that these women are not good for the guys and the women
are angry about it. Some of the guys (the husbands/boyfriends) think that other women are
way more intelligent and way more attractive than their current wives/girlfriends,
especially when these men are having multiple affairs behind the backs of their women. A
woman's scorn means that all of the ladies have had enough of being lied to, cheated on,
and being belittled by a bunch of womanizing jerks, that includes the loser boyfriends.
And for a bunch of women scorned by infidelities and lies, there's such thing as bad
karma. What these bad guys did to their women will happen to them in the near future, and
when they pass on, these womanizing fiends will meet their judgment day and God will
punish them for all of the misdeeds they've done. The men may lie to their women and they
may lie to their family members, that will have included their parents, but they can't lie
to Him. He sees everything that's going on, and the men (husbands/boyfriends) are going to
pay for what they did to their women (wives/girlfriends). And like the saying goes:
"there's no fury like the wrath of a woman scorned." These men better be really careful
around these women because if they take them for granted, there's going to be heck to pay.

Copyright © Brashard Bursey | Year Posted 2011

Details | Haiku |
Some love is stupid, 
Some love is fake and unreal, 
But our love is true.

Copyright © Christian Guild | Year Posted 2013

Details | Personification |
The animals know better than us. The rain has never poured so loudly in a key so soft.
To the front, the sailing of city buses and mini vans cruising across in this weather makes the water underneath their tires sound like the street is crying out for 5 more minutes of sleep. Up above, the trees are protecting a nest of baby blue jays before they get washed away by the silence of their mother not being there. But with sky blue young spirits, and small empty stomachs, they keep hope alive in the fact that even children know storms and struggles don’t last forever.
Below the trees, nature has found a name to call it’s own. From the hole dug by the little boy next door, a family of three foxes have named human nature sanctuary, and burrowed their problems into the sediment to rest for a while.
To the side of the hole, a flock of ducks are swimming in the water with eyes open wide enough to where you can see their loyalty to love one another rushes wild.
To the right of the pond, caged up in a man made blanket, and lost in his own mind, is the boy. From what he remembers, last night was like a train accident; A head on collision of two people he could’ve sworn he saw holding hands just the other day. He hears the sound of plates shattering in C-minor, and the chorus of words that his parents screamed in F-sharp, so he imprisoned himself in his own bed sheets, accompanied by the courageous corduroy bear who he swears keeps hearing whisper “everything will be okay.”
It’s raining outside, and the crescendos of screams have been silenced by it’s peaceful security.
The boy, sleeps soundly now. The rain has protected his ears, and guarded his heart from being washed away by all of his nightmares.
He doesn’t care whether he wakes up. The baby blue jay, the resourceful fox and the brave little duck are all he wants to keep dreaming about.
Maybe he’ll run away into the rain? Or maybe into the arms if his mother?, whom he prays he can still recognize. To the left of his bed, he picked up the blank page of his coloring book and a crayon, and became a life long poet in that moment that morning. Taking a deep breath in, and giving a soft breath out, his first sentence was
“The animals know better than us.”

Copyright © Spenser Jones | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme |
To Truly Love and Drink The Cold, Cold Beer


What I once was and just why I survived
 I remember a life so damn contrived.
Reaching for moon and stars in the skies
 as time ate onward, loud my soul cries.

There was this ache that had to be fed
 I remember vividly each treasure in bed.
Reaching for ever more, such great pleasures
 as time ate onward, heart lost treasures.

Then came pride that most vicious master
 I remember forced me to race ever faster.
Reaching for more laurels to feed appetites
 as time ate onward, greater were the fights.

Later revenge on the world was the new call
 I remember punishing many, me most of all.
Reaching for a deeper, harder kind of pain
 as time ate onward, all folly made so plain.

I gave up the war, the race, the endless fights
 what I once was and just why I am now here.
Now I miss most dearly on hot August nights
is to truly love and drink that cold, cold beer!

Robert J. Lindley, 02-22-2015

Note: Truth in the telling my friends......

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |
Imagine a king who has many
Servants staying at his palace
It would make no sense at all if those
Servants do not fulfill their purpose


Those servants were ordered to work
And to respect that king at all times
While the king gives them a place to stay
They should always make his palace shine


Any slave who does not work may
Eventually be kicked out soon
Any slave who works improperly
May likewise end up without a room


That king has a right to command
His slaves to sing lovely songs of him
To choose the number of times to wash
A staircase, because he is 'king'


That king has a right to command his
Slaves to do well to his family
To treat his close friends with respect
And welcome his guests cheerfully


To tell them not to touch this and that
To disallow them from certain rooms
To do what he commands them to do
As he is the owner who rules


So when Allah gives a command
A command that must be obeyed
You must obey Allah's Commandments
Or else you might get yourself astray


So if Allah commands you to pray
To Him, five prayers everyday
Don't ask 'why? ' Don't ask 'why five salahs? '
Just listen to God, and obey


God lets you walk on the earth He made
God gives you fresh air for you to breathe
God keeps the clouds above you floating
And gives you drink and food to eat


God gave you a brain with which to think
And still you ask 'why should you pray? '
We pray to Allah, the Mighty King
Who lets us live each night and day


When you're awake, when you're asleep
The air you breathe each night and day
What you inhale and what you exhale
Are some things from God which you don't pay


The ability to taste is a
Gift from God which many just ignore
Imagine if you could not taste the
Food you eat, eating would be a bore


You eat fruits and vegetables that God
Created, from plants that Allah made
You drink water which belongs to God
And yet you ask 'why must we pray? '

--->PART FOUR

Copyright © Mariam M. | Year Posted 2013

Details | Nonet |
            Nonet meets sonnet    
       "  The 1st women inspired art "

              Sofonisba Italian artist known   
              inspired women to paint free
              Internationally acclaimed 
              her use of light woven
              with detail precise
              Michelangelo
              asking for
              advice
              clear

               come to me with love and passion Michelangelo
               for as the day falls to night bring to me your song;    
               thou come seeking say you to me but say what is in thine heart ?
               In quiet fields of tall grass under olive trees,  Cremona I think of thee
               bearing all gifts of love's hidden secrets questioning my only virtue
               Remember me as if I ,your breath, desires no other  remember thine fire !

              In great respect of the Art, nonet meets free verse  ~

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |
The Cowardice of the Taliban and The Silence of The Good Muslims.


When hot lead tears the flesh of a 14 year old girl,

ripping through her skull,
leaving her to bleed out and die,

does Allah not recoil in horror,

to see His child whimper,
to see His daughter cry.

Where is the indignation,

the anger that often boils over and manifests itself as flags and books and videos are burnt in mass orgies of hollow piety,

where are the voices that scream so loud,
that denounce all but their own creed,

where are the men, the impotent men who crave for nothing more than their fascist egos to feed,

where are the voices that so loudly proclaim,
enemies here and enemies there, always quick to condemn,

where are those voices when the enemy walks amongst them.

14 year old Malala Yousafzai was shot in cold blood,

her crime?

Advocating the rights of girls to an education.

Shame on you, men of bigotry and men of cowardice.

Shame on you, silent and mute accomplices in this carnage.

Shame on me,
for my inaction,

Shame on us all,
who proclaim lofty ideals,

yet are conspicuously silent,

when a 14 year old girl is shot in the head,

by fascist fundamentalist bigots who only worship bullets of hot lead.

Not in my name!

Not in my name,
shall the cowardly men rain down abuse,

Not in my name,
shall the bigoted men light the communalistic fuse,

Not in my name,
shall Malala Yousafzai be shot in the head,

left to bleed out,
while countless mothers' tears are shed,

not in my name,
shall religious murderers,
be left to wander free,

not in my name,
for I dare all believers to open their eyes,
to see!

To see,
the innocence of a 14 year old girl,
wanting only an education,

as the men of the cloth,
prance around with their pathetic self-righteous indignation.

I write this today,
the anger raging in my veins,

yet I fear,

that I shall write more of this,

unless we stand up and say 'no more',

I fear that I shall be writing this again,

until we all,

reclaim the true principles of humaneness,

until we silence the voices of bigotry,
of rage,
of fanatical insanity,

I fear I shall be writing this again,

and,

until the muck-ridden bile,
is not excised,

I shall continue to say,

NOT IN MY NAME!

Or else I shall have nothing,

but my unending shame.



(for Malala Yousafzai, 14 years old, in a critical condition after being shot in the head by the Pakistani Taliban, for her work as a young activist advocating the rights of girls to attend school)

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
Love they say is louder than hate.
But I think that it’s a shame,
That only holds true when you have a pretty face.
Maybe I’m a disgrace,
For saying such a thing,
But think about your life and how true that *****rings.
And I cannot deny what this mirror is reflecting,
What’s standing in my way is only one thing.
It was beauty killed the beast,
In famine it will bring feast.
And sideways glances, second chances, you’ll get those at least.
But what about me?
What about us?
It’s power like money,
It drives greed,
it drives lust.
So what about you?
What can we do?
All I can hear,
The sounds that make the world disappear.
Love is louder than hate, but I can’t hear it from here.

Copyright © Ag Ki | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric |
The beauty of life
"
"
The beauty of life.
The beauty of life.

It is nice to have enemies,
when you need love.
It is nice to have opponents
when you need support.
It is nice to have critics,
when you want to be great to a fault.
It is nice to come across a dead sheep,
when you need a living dove.

The beauty of life.
The beauty of life.

It is nice to have murderers,
when you need life.
It is nice to have trouble makers,
when you need peace.
It is nice to have adversaries,
when you need success keys
It is nice to come across heart breakers
when you need a wife.

The beauty of life
The beauty of life.

It is necessary as you live
For it helps you carry on.
It helps you retrieve
when they think they have won.
It helps you reach destination without looking back
for you have conquered what can conquer.
You arrive when water off a duck's back
for you have overcome what can hinder.

The beauty of life.
The beauty of life.




     

Copyright © CHRISDAD KOJO ARTHUR | Year Posted 2015

Details | Epic |
It's been over two decades since I'd been diagnosed with autism. I've been an autistic
human being after I turned three years old. But despite being diagnosed with autism, mild
MR (mental retardation), and OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder), I'm still functioning
like everybody else. Everybody should know what their lives would be like if they had to
raise their children who had been born or had been diagnosed with autism. It seems that
people with autism are as intelligent and bright as I am, especially when it comes to
mainstreaming in school and stuff. What I learned about having autism is that not only
does this type of disability allow me to function with my family, autism had allowed me to
get an education and make new friends, too. everybody knows that people with autism,
including me, are all equal like everybody else. If these people want to tell the others
that they had autism, no one should be judgmental. And for when I'm able to tell someone
that I have autism, he and/or she is very open-minded and accepting. And if these people
want to be open-minded and accepting, so should I. So what all of the young men and young
women are autistic. Young men(including me) and young women with autism are all God's
children, regardless of what some people think. And what's so great about being autistic
is that we're not just finding our talents, but we're also living in our own worlds and
the real world at the same time. Whether he and/or she has autism, autism spectrum, or
Asperger's syndrome, which is autism's twin, they're all an equal. And come to think that
I'm still accepting the fact that I have autism and I'm very proud of it. Everybody also
knows that I have autism, he has autism, she has autism, and everybody from around the
nation and the whole world each have autism. The reason why all of these people are
accepting that the fact that we have autism is because they really care and kind and
understanding, for one, and for two, that all of our family members really love us, even
though we're autistic. And if all of the young men and young women can deal with being
autistic and they can accept the fact that they can function in the real world like
everybody else, so can I. And right now, I wish that the men and women were to know what
it's like to raise children who have been born or diagnosed with autism. I'm autistic and
I'm also an equal, just like everybody else.

Copyright © Brashard Bursey | Year Posted 2011

Details | Light Poetry |
Dynasties of radiance splash into a womans swimming pool of excellence a womans cry transforms failures into triumph, should i feel agony & defeat for the lost bondage of our love, does a womans cry begin to symbolize the sacred feelings hiding inside the belly of a mans lies, a queen at the throne was promised, i bear children in the midst of our fight for survival do you dare assassinate my worth, my conscious is a relentless drum at the mercy of ones entertaining commands listen to a womans cry, how do i remain steady when even i question my character, is it wrong to look towards the heavens seeking pity for not being your lone constant treasure, such a life grows deeper as i sleep but find not an eye full of rest, my heart is but a mere myth who will hear a woman cry, weary i crawl for the weight of your misfortunes too great to shield, my place as a mother weakend by your arrows of discretions, spare me of your tough ridges, rid me of your chaotic demanor, heal my wounded but not broken spirit from your barbariac abuse, sooth my emotions for empty i remain a womans cry

Copyright © lucious stewart | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
I know not her name, 
But I can trace her by scent, 
She has driven me into a smell-at-them game, 
And am attracted to her a hundred percent, 

Stronger than my very own Chase, 
But am unable to keep the pace, 
The scent, be it expensive, I'll buy on higher purchase, 
I just want a glimpse of her face, 

Is she a material girl in a material world? 
Who taught her to smell so sweet? 
Whatever the case I'll buy her the world, 
And place it beneath her feet, 

I spoke with the wind to reverse her scent, 
And I followed it to a mansion so beautiful, 
It is here that I'll pitch my tent, 
Till I see this angel that converted me to a beauty fool, 

Alas! A master piece, 
If she isn't a runaway angel from heaven, 
Then God must have really been at peace, 
And created her in days more that seven, 

Introduce myself I shall, 
Even if its only for a while, 
Am Leonardo da vinci, please Monalisa smile, 
But she disappears behind that great wall, 

Copyright © Billy Simani | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

A God who is not a human
Not a soul or created thing
A God who always hears and sees
Yet we cannot hear or see Him


A God who tests us, hence we cannot
See Him, a God who never lies
A God without human weakness
-Not Born- A God who does not die


A God who made us with a purpose
To worship Him, worship Him alone
A God who wants us to be Muslims
And Heaven our Eternal Home


By worshiping only One God
And following God's Rules and Laws
Allah is He. God is Allah.
Allah: The God who has no flaws


Allah is not the God of Arabs
Not all Arabs believe in Him
Allah is the God of all of us
Who made everyone and everything


If you ask 'why the name Allah? '
I ask you, why's your name your name?
Imagine your teacher says 'I'm Jane'
If you disbelieve you could be 'lame'

She says, 'Class, I'm Jane; I'm your teacher'
You say, 'I don't want a teacher 'Jane''
Your teacher says, 'my name is Jane'
You say, 'Don't teach, unless your name is changed'


If one has done that, they have rebelled
They're arrogant; they want attention
If you're a troublesome student
Then all you get is detention


So if Allah says that He is God,
That Allah is God, and God Allah
Then believe in God, worship Allah
To avoid Hell and its boiling lava


Allah is One, the Only True God
Allah created you and I
Allah has no children nor wife
Allah needs no bodyguard nor spy


Allah is One, God is Just One
I said 'One God', not 'God in Three'
One God who rules the whole universe
'More than many gods'? How can that be?


If there were many gods as some claim
The whole world would be upside down
False gods would vie with one another
As kings would fight for the same crown


God has no son. God has no daughter.
God has no wife, God did not marry
God is too Powerful and Perfect
God does not weaken nor get lonely


God is Allah, Allah the True God
If you now believe, please testify
That there is no god but Allah
And God was never crucified


Once you have recognized Allah
Remember that Allah has Rules
Rules that must be followed by all
All of God's servants, including you


God commanded us to pray to Him
To Pray to Him each day and each night
To worship Him our Creator Allah
Is the reason why God gave us life

--->PART THREE

Copyright © Mariam M. | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |
Let us accept this pain
and some fear
it will heighten autumn colours
crack of clean air
black crows in blue sky
lake.

Rather than fight pain, falling
asleep in front of tv, 
understand the full
import of its situation
in the body. Blessed
once, cursed now
only fear prevents
full knowledge of experience.

The gray sky brings
winter, no blame.
The poet writes a few last poems
or continues to live with his pain.
In itself pain does not oppose
life, and may enhance it
or build character, create
wisdom. But too much fear
chokes the throat and burns
the eyes. It
destroys the last free
assessment of life.

              *                    *                    *

Now I am going to live in my body
as it is, almost fearlessly
running in pain, working
to abandon immortality
as a hope, conceiving
sunset after sunset
feeling what I feel.

On the streets I meet
many beautiful young women
curious to a certain extent
what makes a man older.
I can only say ten years
and the hand that reaches through
the cloud. I can say
only the knowledge of mortality
which makes us brothers and sisters
with the animals. And only
the acceptance which gives us wisdom
to couple often and lovingly.

How am I going to live every day
as my last, hoping happiness
outgrows fear by an ounce
or enough? By running, writing
and loving. By moving uphill
and downhill like a bear.
By committing my last words
to a powerful lord. How
do the clouds accept my dead
self? A rock thrown, a crow.

              *                    *                    *

When I am old
young girls will not be frightened anymore.
I will invite them
to my seat and tell
about the women I knew.
I will tell about
the clothes they wore
and how they earned a living.
I will try to remember
what was important to them
and if they had a favorite color
or knew how to divine.

Maybe I live and maybe I don't.
The smoke is white or black.
The winds are bright or dark.
The coins are heads or tails.
What have I been afraid of? 
Death is most of all like sleep.
We spend so long apart
after briefly knowing ourselves.
I need you to know myself
and without you all I know
is sun.





Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric |
I am following the footprints
Of a shadowed spectral shape.
Through every line and passageway
She sings to me in daydreams.

Songs of virility and violence
Of sexuality so savage.
The grousing of the planet,
Her heartbeat cracks the fault-lines.

She walks under an orange moon
In cornfields in November.
Singing soft her siren tune,

So I may listen and remember
That she may always be pursued
Until my bones like glass will shatter.

Copyright © Samuel Lee | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
I sat in a small wayward cafe,
the smell of coffee beans being crushing into submission
tickled at my nosterls.
The sounds of tin cans and cups
some of them being stacked and others
drop with a violent crash.
The tables all red and round
There sat the women, with their novels, tea cups and coffee mugs
sharing small talk of innocent love.
Some women quiet and others talking.
All of them drinking something.

The cool air blew through the windows,
what a mess that wind made.
Blowing papers all around
and blowing the women's hair back.
A man sat there, writing away,
with an endless cough, a tickle at his Adam's Apple.
Then again everyone had a cough.

I sat there reading poetry, writing poetry, embracing poetry
with a pen in one hand and my head in the other,
gently resting of the red round table.
I wrote of the cafe, the women, the man with the endless cough,
that shattered your ear drums everytime he put his hand to his mouth
and coughed away.

A woman who sat reading way,
drinking lemonade and sometimes
taking long glances up.
She was waiting for someone, I could tell.
I looked at her and she at me,
and we both smiled.
Then a sudden silence,
she looked away from me.
A man, who had an ego,
(Then again, doesn't every man have one)
brushed my shoulder and pushed me away.
He apologized, not sincerly.
They kissed and hugged,
I went back to writing with a frown.
They went away in love, I guess?
And I sat all alone in that
lonesome wayward cafe.
Nothing to keep me company, but smell of coffee and tea
and the laughs of the women sharing small talk,
and that one man with Earth shattering cough.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
We
So we meet again, 
we women, who 
have been scorned
by the explicit
sights of love (or 
something that love 
once was).

We women, 
never moving, 
in continuum,
sisters desecrated
and devoured by 
miscarriages of hearts
and dogged days 
under sulfur moons, 
by the rivalry of our thighs
and limbs
entwined with 
another's. 

And each we say:
I beg of you, 
I beg of you,

I beg to be wanted by you.

I gather around 
you women, 
brought here by 
what was lost, and 
what is now forever 
sutured into our bones, 
what we cannot forget
because we choose not to,
because we are comforted
and comfortable
here,
in this mess. 

We women, 
we find solidarity
chained in ink, 
in words,
covered in 
sleeves of kisses 
and bruises. 

And still, 
I am 
alone.

Copyright © Feli Elizab | Year Posted 2015