Best Fem Poems
Noble Souls
Noble souls arise,
build steps,
forge roads,
carry tough loads,
scale peaks,
quell fears,
dream stars which blaze,
clear those black skies.
These souls would tears erase.
Noble souls offer cheer,
avoid wrath
crush their pride,
prove their worth,
value earth,
speak sober words,
shape lives,
plant hope’s seeds,
serve other folks’ basic needs.
Noble souls rally,
never crawl,
never stall.
Their adept hands
nurse other souls’ awful aches.
Sweet roses
adorn their loved
angel faces.
Noble souls exist.
A poem using only 5-letter words
Dec. 21, 2017 for Rhoda Tripp's 'Fem Bogstaver (Danish)' Poetry Contest
Often women dream about famed lover sweet
While stars shine above mused quiet meets
Coded notes given neath party arbor
Eager hands which cause fresh ardor
These alter truth while love's fight wanes
Breed venom, fuels anger, solid bonds drain
Rings' blest oaths rival heavy chain
Death comes swift where wrong ideas start
False charm tears unity apart
After dawns first light sleep ought cease
Madam casts aside bogus scene; finds peace
12/20/2017
Fem Bogstaver
Hosted By: Rhoda Tripp
...this was flipping hard! lol
Awake
Angel Heart
Shoot Godly Arrow
^
Jesus
Loves Poets
Birds adore shiny Apple
^
Peace heals World
^
Happy
Child Smile
^
Alive
Blood Flows
^
Lover touch Aglow
^
Shine
Sunny Skies
^
Dream Angel Cries
Contest: Fem Bogstaver (Danish)
Sponsor: Rhoda Tripp
Humid April night
Lover, first sight
Ideal woman shape
Sheet, coyly drape
Sheer, fancy gauze
Yours Truly, cause
Crazy angel lover
Shine under cover
Knows every trick
Night heat's thick
Skin's silky touch
Tempt lusts, dutch
Spicy candy mouth
Slide lower, south
Tepid torso treat
Savor syrup, sweet
Fiery urges, fresh
Love's lucid flesh
Feels beget sighs
Zeal's ardor flies
Even's wheel turns
Lust's flame burns
Wine's bloom, blush
Final ... fever ... crush.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Fem Bogstaver (Dutch)" Poetry Contest, Rhoda Tripp, Sponsor.
.
I saw her's at the
distance
I tried the whistle
It flew out like
tweety bird's
caught by sylvester
featherz and
all
hern soon
oke
choked
Hitherto
i whistle not
at fine
hers'
her's
lets lips
mine
not
*i ofttimes spill the nouns (the)hers
:>shemales; i meant, females..(did so ')
(the)shes
therefore I explicate and may the poetic astute
accept mine artistic license :) hers: females... 'period'
shes: the feminine plural ;) oh stop ,)
edvard'z lisp and *sensitive feel> (fem~i~nine)
^:uh wight guy ') her's: possessive
* oke^ hern: belongs to her e.g. her's, in the broader sence; 'twuz her decision I.e; the poet, can say "her breast were in mine maws", yet, wus it her decision that her breast were there(the 'terse' poet would need to explicate, cramming hiz lisp with unnecessary werdz)..but, if the poet (i exspecially)exclaimed; "hern" breast were in mine maws", hiz readerz intuitively would know, that 'she gave' her breast up willingly(her decide). If the poet exclaimed; "hern pussie wuz pink"
^('she' lets poet see it's
pink
etc.)
i pray there be shes reserving sum hern for mine
indulge....words...that's what i well i tried to meant ')
By his hand was grown a forest
trees aligned as fence posts
trunks accentuated lavender and blue,
but not as a spruce
and purple strokes, not disguised as prose
in a woodland cut short in proportion
somewhat a distortion of towering height
over wildflowers it stood,
sans a canopy of leaves
for the profusion of those umbrellas
would've barred sunlight from the copse.
Botanicals, merely painted as smears
A scene filling my senses
with thoughts of Spring... except
to mourn for branchless trees
barren to give motherly birth
and nurture buds as their worth.
Reflections on canvas of golden blossoms,
topaz gems and white faceted diamonds
windswept by Mariah's winds
blowing North and South
then, changing her mind... East and West
temperament is what she does best.
An undergrowth of green but
I don't find it serene
as side by side two plod
through stems and grasses
feet tangled in masses of vines
Was that a wise decision?
With derision, I wonder...
if the brush strokes had a purpose
a plan for the man to be more relevant,
standing tall, garbed in black, high-top hat
while barely visible, the fem
camouflaged in Van Gogh's jungle.
Whether facing front to back,
one coming or the other going
there's no starry night to be found
That would be profound
even to an eye that's unappreciative of art
when part of the scene
has no semblance of a sky.
Seeds start petal grows
Beats heart winds blows
Birth begin fresh souls
Dance elkin storm rolls
Teens dwell learn quick
Adult excel passe chick
Older comes elder bring
Lifes drums death sting
Lives reset cycle renew
Plant hopes dream adieu
Grain sough alive chose
Seeds start petal grows
December 19, 2017
Fem Bogstaver (Danish) - Poetry Contest- Rhoda Tripp
Deception In Soup Creek
There once was a town called Soup Creek amiable and quaint
Filled with all these characters, a perfect picture they'd paint
It was founded to protect the innocent
Where one was welcome to come visit
A bold western saga exquisite
A Mayor, a Sheriff, a saloon proprietor
A bar owner, also a realtor
What comes next you can’t make it up, is true
A charlatan Sheriff who already knew
The saloon owner was a phony too
This is the tale what we thought a young fem,
Claimed she was being stalked by men
who used different user names
All the while she was doing the same
Many here feel used by her deception
Manipulated for her own protection
Even I was dragged in
To keep the adventure going
I was a bit overzealous
Got a vibe she was jealous
Cause I added a twist
And then there’s this…
Whose face is it?
Someone off the internet
Identity theft is what I saw
Or is madam above the law
I uncovered a foul devious charade
Just ego and hubris on parade
Meanwhile she had
Told a few folks who also were played
Madam’s her old self, and is back
With fists ready to attack
Writing about the value of friends
Pshaw, a victim again, it never ends
I don’t have the time for this
I’ll give it to you quick, Ma`am, Miss
What were you thinking, is it mental illness?
Tell the saloon owner, who invites us in for a drink
What in heavens name would Milton think?
I know I should move on gracefully
But it just didn't settle right with me
If lies and deception are your lot
At least you can try better not to get caught
I'm going to dub this poetry form Fem Bogstaver which in Danish means "five letters." If there is a real name for this, please let me know.
I was given a challenge on Instagram by a fellow poet to write something that uses ONLY five letter words, and I enjoyed writing it immensely. I'd like to challenge you all here to do the same. If you can make it rhyme, bonus points, but it has to make some sense.
See my contest with prizes!
Photo credit to cdn.images.express.co.uk
Form:
Just Because I Said I Do
Oh this war tween man and fem
Makes so many lift the sword
Turn it into poison pen
Telling all is their reward
He done me wrong
She will say
He wasn’t strong
He had to stray
She left me for another man
I was good, I wasn’t rough
I try to do the best I can
But in the end not good enough
Is always out with his mate
Leaving me at home alone
Coming in, drunk and late
Telling me, not to moan
Always late with my meals
Oh was she a big mistake
Never puts out what appeals
I live on cereal and cake
I wish him, I’d never chose
Is plain for anyone to see
Chides coz I don’t iron his clothes
And loves the dog more than me
All she thinks is, self, self self
While I’m working really hard
Forgets I took her off the shelf
She won’t get no Christmas card
He thinks that I can’t drive a car
Always saying what to do
Someday he’ll take it way to far
I’ll look at him and say, “Screw you”
It started off in wedded bliss
Now it seems there’s no discourse
How could it have come to this?
See you in court, for the divorce.
I’m having the dog.. No you’re not .
Yes I am. No. Yes. No. Yes. No…………
This is purely fictitious and I have
never said she can’t drive a car, at
least not while moving in a
forward direction … hahaha
Wild Fire n Roots
May 3, 2013
I am trying
youth dem dying
the real warriors
da lions an kings dem
not walk upon earth again
see it der- see it der
where is the roots
where is the heart
we knew fe dem love
deep love was penetrating
the youth dem na
feel it-see- dem imitating
we are demonstrating
the depth of wats left .
Of the real love
I am trying
The youth dem dying
dem cannot survive
without a heart
on fire- That deep rooted desire
Wat happen to dat
burning desire
we need the youth dem
To catch the fire-We Need
Passion and love
to rise up again
mek dem feel it-
mek fem know it
so they can show it...
So true lions and kings
can walk pon earth again
I want to live to see
dem love again
Like the ones we
knew back when.
Bob-
Big Youth-
Toots-
Gregory
Sugar Minot-
SsterCaroll
I- tree"s
Barrington -
Tosh ---Oh my Gosh.
I hope the passion
rises again . and
love N desire-
Spread like wild fire.
Once again.
And ignite our
youth to deal with dem roots
fe know dem
purpose an dem worth
It's time...
For a mother
In this mother.
Bring out those tambourines!
Brother Wolf will scream, as
Black, white, and in-between keys harmonize as teams.
It's time!
Let's look the world over
Wise women don't cower.
From the U.S. to Timbuktu, toot on!
First, the weak is made strong
Fair Ms. America now holds the baton.
It's time!
Let's view Parliament or Liberia's Head of Government
Indira, Thatcher, and Golda Meir had presence.
In the morning, a woman's voice
In the heat of day, mix of fem as choice
In the evening; women, too, have cause to rejoice.
It's time we forget Hillary's emails
Some Politicians tell tall tales
Donald Trump will stumble and fail.
Who can cast the first stone?
Why are we bones of one bone?
What King without a Queen holds throne?
It's time we know...
Wise women communicate and shine like stars
Wise women regard all as brothers and sisters.
Have a hand in history's wheel and wagon
Haven't you heard, women were left to carry on
Have not men to women pass the baton?
It's time once again, history is made
Mothers will choose Hillary's name for babes
The White House staff will know of smoother sails.
Bring out your tambourines!
Brother Wolf will scream, as
Black, white, and in-between harmonize as terrific teams.
It's time!
*
Now pick apart
My S E X U A L I T Y
and tell me these traits
That must define me.
From my heads to my tippy toes
Am I more man or Mo?
Dont hesitate
While you emasculate
They must call you Webster
Because you act like now.
Is it because-
I dye my hair to ignite these eyes
Or I skip to the beat
And step in time?
I dont wear clothes that pop
My pants sag NOT snap
I dont death at the drop
But Ill always clapback.
I pee standing up
But cry standing down,
More wit in this sass
To asassinate a clown.
I flick my wrist-
sideways
But have hair on my chest,
I dont pluck my brows -
For days
I choose ladies over men
To spill the tea
But I can outrun a sportsman
If someone is chasing me.
I got Fem tropes.
I pull man ropes.
I dont vape, I smoke
Im riddled with jokes.
Got a snaggle tooth
That bite will your truth,
Im not GQ clean
But I on the cover if you know what I mean.
Liza, Judy, Gaga, Babs
Parade my phone
with disney pics and washboard abs.
Denzel, Deniro, Statham
Are the dudes I roll
I dont spit whiskey
But ill drink vodka from the bowl.
I believe in truth and the American way
I pray to God,
YES I was born this way.
So paint my sterotype
With your sheltered PC hype,
I am just a ruggedly handsome prototype-
Now continue to archetype me
As I drop this Mic.
Form:
*****lol first attempt at Sehra, form..if I have failed will another wordsmith share their knowledge?:)
Kaleidoscope of Butterflies
~Tenors, base, all creating an seemingly endless hum… from beginning through songs duration……Tenors and base humming… in background sounding on and off, … in background…
Universe, space, stratosphere
ATMOSPHERE, Earth’
Joins two souls together
( Chorus, repeat 3x,s)
…..A likened to butterflies through a kalei’do’scope, we come together…..freely choosing to bond alike butterflies resting in moonlit fields, we come together…
Forest green, reddest-red,
Blue-citron silken veils
Brightly adorned faces, non-so lovely as bride, Le fem’
(Chorus)
Alike a rainbow
Colors expressing a Universal Atmosphere
Vibing radiantly, spilling-over, covering Earth
FULL of light and happiness at the resonance of vows
( Chorus, final)
Jill
~ for contest of Julia Ward ~
5~15~2016
She was lean, she was mean, a fighting machine.
Sixteen brothers had toughened her up.
She was secret woman, our little Arlene.
Raised on cold kerosene from a cup.
Our mother had passed when Arlene came into the world,
On a horribly stormy and mean October Saturday night.
We all crowded around, as the drama unfurled,
Sixteen brothers, and a dad, oh, so tight.
We dressed her in our best hand-me-downs, the best fellows all around.
And took turns with her feedings, up until a quarter ‘til three.
Dressed in blue overalls, and short-named Arley, she loved to run around.
Like a wild thing, thinking she was a boy, the best she could be.
When she started to school, the teachers wanted her to change F to M,
Thinking she was a boy, a fellow, one of the guys, which she thought she was.
Until one accidentally discovered she was girl, but knew nothing of fem.
Then them teachers started horning in teaching her to cook and sew and stuff.
Pa and us stood helplessly by, as they tried to change Little Arley into a girl.
It was great when she could make delicious chili soup and cheese cake surprise
But we were all irritated at sixteen when she started wearing girl clothes,
And got her eyes on some idiotic seventeen-year-old not-so-great guys.
She went to the prom, and we all followed along in our pick-up trucks and RVs.
She was our baby, and we were not about to let anything change our family’s way.
Five years later we followed her and her new husband to Texas, so he could see.
She was our baby, and we were not going to let her move so far away.
The marriage did not last, and we have lots of reasons and thinking about the why.
But she is home with pa now, safely tucked away, with her wedding dress on the closet door.
Making chili and pastries, and other good stuff like molasses cookies and pumpkin pie.
Home where she belongs, wild and crazy as ever, Little Arlene, we always knew before.
Little Arlene, the best auntie around,
Little Arlene, the one our children adore.
Little Arlene, the best sister we have found,
Little Arlene, home for ever more.
Little Arlene, Little Arlene, Little Arlene!