Best Female Poems
women of dusk and dawn
who love to feast on their senses
in a banquet ripened by love and courage,
chilled to last till the moonlight
bequeaths more hours for stories
about earth's flesh...
oh, let the first drone of music
praise the female spirit voluptuous
as hips sashay in gaiety wildly wet,
empresses hunting for the eyes of god in men
softly flowing in veils of mystery
that hover in the fragrance
housed in chambers of rich legends
and reality: taste their tears,
cuddle the apples of fertile breasts…
yet no one can touch their essence
or own life’s primeval wombs;
women are women like their children
defying any explanation.
Contest of Chantelle Anne Cooke Favorite Free Verse
2/4//2019 Repost
Born to be a true warrior
never given the choice
Being muted as a child i
was not allowed a voice
Growing into this woman
with everyday being a fight
And as a real warrior never
questioned my very plight
Fearlessly into the battles
in one hand I held my sword
In my other was my shield
striding into monsters hoard
Face to face turned into a
head to head vilolent clash
As their razor sharp claws
reached out trying to slash
Dodging to my right then
my left I would then sway
With heavy swings from
my weapon I would slay
Fate determined my life to
living a warriors crusade
All alone in this hard world
Me, my shield and my blade
Our giggles lilt, whirling on paths divine
Inventing new summer tricks, how bubbly
That every joy ride is a drink so fine
From which we both sip, late nights of coffee.
Secrets we keep under river's deep floor
Like mirrored glass where we color the dew,
An only sis, eldest bloom I adore
When pained tears cascade; she’s my first rescue.
Though disputes flare, ardor bestows rebirth
With shared compass guiding a walk called life;
Exploring beyond dreams, fonder this earth,
As she cradles my hope, now a blest wife.
The music still dances within our eyes
One treasure of love bonding as allies.
When Older Siblings or Younger Step In...
Eve Roper’s Contest
1/2/2015
I'm searching for a new man.
(My lemon quit on me.)
I'm a discerning seeker.
(The smallest dent, I'll see!)
I want a younger fellow;
(Low mileage is a must.)
Required is great get-up-and-go
(an engine with no rust).
He should desire me in his lap.
(Seat warmers feel so good.)
He's gotta be in tiptop shape.
(I'll know what's under the hood!)
Low-maintenance, I value.
(oil changes quarterly)
He must look good and make me proud.
(Buffed shine, I love to see.)
Trustworthiness, I so desire.
(Don't like those tow truck calls!)
He must always keep pace with me.
(Don't want a thing that stalls.)
April 1, 2017--entered in Brian Strand's April 2017 Premier Contest
(for Virginia Woolf)
She wanted to buy some flowers but drowned Herself instead,
drifting along the ebbing flow of time, with warm
water cracking Her slim figure and airless lungs.
‘will I freeze the river?’ She thought, wondering if the trees
would still rustle in the wind if She wasn’t alive to notice it,
thinking if Her man’s heart would still beat if She could
no longer shock its rhythmical thump-thud-stop with kisses.
the wood was chopped down around Her home. The
veranda from which She surveyed the world was but
deafened by cruel hacking chopping and sawing at the
hands of men whom took Her feminine beauty away.
She became the water as She died, became the weeds,
became the bark that broke her own back, the pen and the phallus.
‘this isn’t purgatory’ She realised, ‘this is revenge and reward’.
‘I am a sacrifice to literature. I am a sacrifice for the word’.
from writer to death to glory to ink
to the lies under rocks uncovered,
to god to me to the taking of Her own life,
She is the paper in our very hands.
For Timothy Lee
You are the one and only perfect male for this girly female.
Your body, so strong, manly and taut, is meant for my body soft.
Your hands eager, sensual assails make my senses lapse and fail.
Your manly, intimate onslaughts erase my every thought.
When your intent looms to impale, I soon forget how to inhale.
When my impassioned mouth is caught by your desirous lips as sought,
and your flesh-kisses press lust trails rendering me as velvet wails ...
oh, then ... you perfectly astound as I melt perfectly unbound.
Feeling faint
Focus
Focus on the feign feelings flowing feverishly, not the foremost flare of fear at first glance
Fated by the flux, fabricated (for once) in my favor and forever grateful
Fixated, her features and figure flashed like fortune in front of me
Fingering through her cerebral files, feeling her fortified front deemed a froward but flawless find
Fast-forward-at least five years
And still I flush from the sight of her freckles
Our faithfulness fell into fiction a few times; foolish fuel for feuding flames
Forecasting fights and frigid nights, but nothing fatal
For we are a formula, a tight fitting fixture
Fixing all fractures with forgiveness and finding ways to fathom and forget
Forsaking myself, my foundation; but further on
The fragile will flourish as we firmly fix our footing, fenced in by our family and fervent felines
Fake? No, this is fact
Have faith in the fire of love
No more frowns
I am resigned.
I was once full of neoteric life, fresh as morning dew.
Blank as a hardened sponge waiting for that morning, to
soak in all this life.
I was curious and surprised by the innocence of young creatures. Playful, and distracted by all the colors, flavors, scents, sounds, and textures whirling around me. I was but one drop of water yet presumed myself the storm.
I was then full of new life within my growing awareness. I was the life giver. The female womb, ripe as fruit from the tree. The planting of which was forbidden but irresistible in its passion and pleasure.
Life and death growing inside me.
I was then blind sided by reality, by my insignificant self.
I lost the morning dew, I lost the fevered curiosity, I lost the ego.
I was left with cold questions and fear. Knowing myself to be corruptible.
I became the seeker, the hunter, the collector of truth.
The water dried up, hardened the sponge once again with no more mist or dew to soak in. It was not for me.
The colors no longer distract.
The flavors have lost their savor.
No perfume in this decaying stillness.
I am deaf to their noises, and they shrink from my touch.
I am resigned to listen to my own thoughts… of what is to come.
I am resigned.
u a w e
x l p r o s
e s
S beautiful siren woman of his dreams,
Magically feminine, a paragon of sensual
overload, wonderful in her pure innocence
having no idea how appealing she is just
in being herself, laughing at no one,
Giving everyone a chance to be
their best, ready always to
champion the underdog,
doing what is necessary
to show kindness and
love to strangers, and
non strangers alike. She
has spiritual awareness, raging
through her. She knows so much
and yet does not feel in any way
superior to her family or peers. She
is a ready helpmate just by being her
unique fabulous self, listening to her heart
she is helpful and kind, and she is revered
and truly appreciated by those who earn
her trust and especially by those
who have loved and cherished her.
Beautiful siren woman, hear her now.
Written 12-18-2018 Contest: The Shape of My ART
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Divine book expresses moon’s great wonders
soothing to soul that serenely ponders
while viewing beauty walking in brightness*
exuding sweet Eve’s female gentleness.
With attributes to ladies alluded
changing moon’s gracefulness is applauded
of varied shapes, colors, sizes’ presence
showing Supreme Artist’s magnificence.
Midst “… she that looketh forth as the morning,
fair as the moon,”** in Scriptures truth’s reigning
my heart thanks the Lord for His grant of light
saluting women fulfilling roles right.
Beholding the moon wrought by hands divine
luminous due to Creator’s design
radiating to smite night’s obscurity
I see Mom’s face, smiling with love-purity.
Joyously basking at the moon’s glory
I’m delighted in Mother’s victory
praising God for life-building pursuits’ flow
with Dad --- home’s sun, making us stars, to glow.
*Job 31:26 If I beheld the sun when it shined, or the moon walking in brightness.
**Song of Solomon 6:10 Who is she that looketh forth as the morning, fair as the moon…?
August 10, 2021
10th place, "Is The Moon Male or Female or Both" Poetry Premier Contest
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke; judged on 8/10/2021.
In Your Neighborhood
Local
Opal
Also in Your Neighborhood
Near a
Vera
Combat Lady
Sniper
Piper
Girly Girl
Frilly
Tillie
The Boxing Girl
Bobbin’
Robyn
Fashion Setter
Trendy
Wendy
Miss Competitive
Trophy
Sophie
Guys will Do Anything . . .
For a
Cora
For a
Dora
For a
Nora
Savage alas is the best
When the gods send me
into battle or new test
alone no more its "we"
A man who truly knows
a woman i'm much more
this being the life we chose
as our love not simple lore
fighting styles are legend
our skills being proficient
Here we are both destined
to us none are ever resistant
we share a respect and love
we never deny the other
what we would think of
much closer then any other
will always be there you see
he has my deepest respect
love for him and him for me
forever we two will protect
The Female Born
She could be here…
Among the sweet blossoms,
Or in my dreams, among stars that glance
Light between laughing children…
I can see her standing in swaying grasses, moving gracefully
Like colored ribbons, undulating over her feline beauty,
Cloaked in love, captured in a photograph displayed in
A Parisian market, a delicious buffet-
She tells me she’s pregnant,
The universe rejoices!
If the past was male,
the present pregnant
improvement...
Mentally,
surely,
the future will be
female...!
No longer wars,
starvation,
lack of tenderness,
and caress !
In the name of
emotional intelligence,
for the sake of
sensible emotion and reason,
there will be actions with love !
It will be the time for pureness
of heart and soul,
friendly muscles,
balanced minds...
The future is female,
as a poet, i do believe !
The female who
inhabited her
that night bare
outside and inside
the truths of the male
that entered without shame ...
She was allowed to walk
to the human wall,
with the tongue
thirsty for love ...
Received the balm
from that other mouth
with torpor ...
Thr lover flowed
all holy sap
that she received with joy
and made him come ... and came ...
Her pleasure so expanded
that her wound has sutured ...
The pleasure so scheduled
finally confirmed ...
If there is joy and pleasure
in love ... never again
She wanted to live away
of this lov