Best Gender Poems | Poetry
Below are the all-time best Gender poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of gender poems written by PoetrySoup members
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by Leffanta, Rico
by Welch, David
Bless'ed Are The Gender Bent
by McGreavy, Maureen
Gender Thanks You Both For Your Service
by Lee Sr., James Edward
by Crossed, Kevin
by Robinson Jr., Freddie
AN ODE TO SCHOOL GENDER
by Ashton, Darryl
by Ellison, Jack
by ALLISON, JAN
Emotions get gender
by SHARMA, Nipoorva
View all new Gender Poems
The Best Gender Poems
to tell you the truth
I would need balls to tell you
women die for less
Composed for Line Gauthier's
"I WISH I HAD THE BALLS TO TELL THEM HOW I REALLY FELT" Poetry Contest
Copyright © Maureen McGreavy | Year Posted 2018
she said my words tore away at her.
i wasn't looking at her eyes at the time.
she made me look.
she wanted me to see her pain.
i imagined her naked.
imagined her left hand moving towards her nipple.
her right hand she said
held her face turned around.
that is how i made her feel.
i pretended to listen.
i didn't hold her.
i didn't speak.
i had sex with her.
afterward she looked sad
and i felt something.
it made me feel
as if i had violated her.
like i should say sorry.
the sex was good.
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
Society Killed The Teenager
So you want to be a princess, and save the prince yourself?
Or take steps on the moon?
Can’t you see I won’t let you do that?
I’m worse than even your parents, you see, I’m society!
Ever play with toys that are meant for boys?
The other kids laughed at you?
You’re a girl, get away from action figures! I’ll train you to be who I want you to be. I’m society.
Kiss a girl, kiss a boy, who do you want to be?
I’ve told you before; you’re a girl not a boy,
Learn to be who you should be.
Listen to you? No, listen to me, I’m society!
Everyone says to be yourself, but they
Don’t actually mean it.
The truth of the matter is
He’s not a boy, and he can’t become one.
Everyone listen to me!
Teenager, teenager, who are you?
Everyone tells me, you’re…
Not again, girl, did you listen to me?
Abort this mission? No, you’re Church screams pro life!
Get rid of it, keep it, it should be your choice,
Everyone has a different advice, but listen to me and only me.
Really, this was easy, you see. They listen to me, and I tell them, who I want them to be.
Copyright © Sky Pruneau | Year Posted 2016
So now I know
Life has played its part
I never would believe
that I could die
from a broken heart
No you can’t mend me
it’s been far too long
everyone will go
everyone has gone
everyone will leave
that God did lend me
I could only watch
then step aside
as it all just went
no matter what I tried
the only thing I can say
was how hard I cried
It was a shiver in the mirror
A reflection of pain
Where the shadows of doubts
were cast and bent
Any old soul
or any message sent
Were at the end of the road
and who is left out
So now I know
Life has played it’s part
now I do believe
that I will die
from a broken heart
Copyright © Cynthia Ferguson | Year Posted 2014
>Playing games with tennis balls?
Men, playing games with tennis balls!
Earn far too much dough.
In the game of tennis you know.
Some male players are now acting tough.
Saying they aren’t paid enough.
For playing games with balls not too rough.
Now they say they want more pay.
Than women, who with their balls do play.
Dragon, that last line sounds not right.
Might be read wrong, on first sight.
Guess someone will soon complain tonight.
We’ll blame it on AI, that’s right.
I’m glad they’ve all got the same dough.
When winning Wimbledon you know.
I still feel sorry for all them balls.
When served so fast into the air.
That’s the thing, I don’t think’s fair.
Why is it when men play ball games?
They insult women so.
Them that play tennis, with those tennis balls.
Some men really do you know.
If women should with those tennis balls play.
Men should never complain anyway.
For when women serve those balls so.
Men can volley them back you know.
Women may not be as strong as men.
In all sport games they play.
But neither do they throw tantrums.
If match points, don’t go their way.
I’m not a keen tennis viewer, that I must declare.
As I watch those poor tennis balls, whizzing through the air.
I had a job explaining that, to my friend Planet Nine.
He thought they were small planets, being hit for fore.
I said that was another sport, best we do ignore.
I wish all sports ball game prizes, were at least the same.
Played on a fair smooth plain
Not on a plane that flies so high.
You can’t play those ball games, in the sky.
So come on you men, do play fair.
Pay all prize money equally so there.
When women play, ball games with you.
They can be on equal pay too.
What else can I really say?
As I play with balls every day.
But as a poet, I don’t play swell.
Nor am I paid as blinking well.
Well done Dragon and you Spellchecker, sorry but we will have to divide the royalties with Planet Nine. Why? That simple he is bigger than us. Bye everybody. Stanley (The mad Author)<
Copyright © STANLEY Harris | Year Posted 2016
Something About Nothing
It seems as if I’m giving my everything for nothing.
This conflict really means something to me,
Because my everything are all of my hopes and dreams
To become anything that want to be.
My talents are all that I own: Poetry, Art, My life’s song…
But nothing is never where it supposed to belong.
Nothing begins a lie of Truth or Dare.
Creating millions of pieces of my heart without care.
Nothing is making something; a fool out of me…
Bringing along anything that causes misery.
It drifts me away from actuality.
Who I am now, I am not destined to be!
Yet nothing can tell me - “Everything will be ok”
But if something goes wrong “Nothing.” is all I’m left to say.
I have fought for nothing!
Stood up for nothing!
Gave up Everything for NOTHING!
And this conflict really means something, you see….
Because you are Nothing and Everything is me!
Copyright © Tyanna Thompson | Year Posted 2016
Old Lord Harry put up a good front.
He hid socks in his pants as a stunt.
But, his Lady swore
as argyle hit floor
that no organ was found to be blunt.
It seems some did not get this poem so a wee bit of 'splaining is above for all you Desi Arnez fans.
FRONT - noun the side or part of an object that presents itself to view or that is normally seen or used first; the most forward part of something. [i.e. the front of his pants]
FRONT - noun in a military sense the front is the FIRING LINE
FRONT - a fake or false personality
This poetic devise is called a double entendre [a play on words]- a word or phrase open to two interpretations, one of which is usually risqué or indecent.
ORGAN - is also being used this way - The human ***** is an external male sexual organ - as well as a musical instrument made of pipe
ARGYLE - a pattern composed of diamonds of various colors on a plain background, used in knitted garments such as sweaters and socks.
or ARE GUILE - someone who is sly or cunning
even the word BLUNT has another meaning here since a BLUNT sword would be of little use
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2014
I am whatever you say I am
currently I'm the eyes of the world
it's what they discovered when
daddy tied a pork chop around my neck just to get the dog to play with me
first time I menstruated, mommy said I would bleed to death,
"hemorrhage" she said. Scared me to death
someone said it's not proper to rhyme a word with the very same word
Teddy Boof was my favorite stuffed bear, but brother tied fishing line to Boof's
thumb, threw him off the New River Bridge and laughed at me for being dumb
thinking he had succumb to the Gully rapids.
This head's been sunburned one too many times, Hydro codeine began the
bad dream, attended HIGH school with Oxy, until my pupils penned black
cocaine and crank brought them speed balling back hard until stars graduated
I cannot help what you assume I'm on
I cannot help what you do not understand
Art and I play Clyde the Glide with Garfunkle on a tragic carpet ride with Joan
Baez...(spelled Be A Easy)
Am I showing my true age yet?
Or should I recite Little Wayne and T. Pain, and say made up word like : Fo'
Sho' Yo! and/or Fo' Sheezy my Neezy?
Then would you believe me? That I'm really 16 and smoke weed dipped in PCP.
I am a woman now, but how?
I know you from who?
have you studied my avatar and guessed me to be thirty three?
did you see my ball cap and mistake me for shallow?
did you read a young man's writing and ask, "for what is that guy aspiring? I
mean he's got fire, but he's a liar and I write circles around that jerk!"
did you go berserk when ya' heard I was a cross dresser on Thirsty
did you attend my Miss World pageant and make fun of my Max Factor?
did you love me when I walked with Jehovah, Praise YHWH! YAH BRAVO YAH?
Encore, encore! Atta boy, what a saint?
guess it doesn't matter anyway
we're going to perceive what we want to believe
guess it never mattered anyway
next year I'll be ninety-nine and every time I go swimming, mobs of teenage
women beg to dive in the deep end for too long with me...and just be wrinkled
friends...(Depends in the deep end)
at one hundred and ten, I suppose things will be different
seventy five years in the methadone line and it's time to be free and begin to
spend my pension.
Can I have your attention
one more thing to mention
For the last time, I can't help if you don't understand me....I'm only alien see,
so please, shine your light and stop taking these random words so literally.
There is a reason why I cannot read. Now I must ask...
why do you?
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2014
Stand up, be proud!
Shout it out loud!
No shroud in you.
Copyright © Lei Strauss | Year Posted 2016
I bridged the chasm and entered ambiguous halls
Climbed over barbed fences inside my mind's walls
To glimpse the core of how men and women relate
Among flowering vines behind the garden gate.
Within a flower is both gamete and stigma
As semen to ovary - what an enigma!
Nestled deep in my breast, I hear a sultry voice,
"Which would I be if I'd been given the choice?"
I am content with my life in a single ilk
I give in to the urge to wear lace and silk
A little more mascara and blush on my face
I desire to be a lady with charm and grace
I wear jeans and boots, shorten the length of my hair
But some days high heels are what I choose to wear
Two halves of one heart, beating in rhythmic sync
Twins in one body but both sharing the same link
One set of footprints I leave on a virgin shore
I know who I am, but sometimes yearn for more
I'm searching for what lies behind the waterfall
The answer discovered when I hear my siren call
One foot in each of two very different worlds
Climbing trees like boys with painted nails of a girl
When asked my favorite color, I always say it's blue
But I'm also partial to pinks in pastel shades and hue.
I search my thoughts to see if gendering is mental
Knowing I'm more the damsel, not frail but gentle
When my psyche roars like a lion, I can repress
the savage beast in me when I wear a pretty dress
In kindred thoughts my anima/animas keep in touch
I respect my masculine inflection, but not too much
I don't saunter like a guy. I'm not one of them
My hips sway like a girl, so cherchez la femme.*
*Cherchez la femme is a French phrase which literally means "look for the woman."
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2016
This poem may get into trouble,
The world wants identity double.
Attempting to culture commonality,
The world champions individuality.
Theft of language has become all too common,
Yesterday’s use today identifies one a strawman.
Definitions change, words take on other meaning,
Often toward groups one way leaning.
At our language different groups continually hack.
In the case of Negro, African American, now Black.
Or European, White, then Caucasian,
Korean American, Indian, rather than Asian.
Why is it that unmentionable words,
You know them, our dialect’s turds.
The use of people demeaned still proliferates,
While outsiders use carry’s different weights?
Color, religion, disability, sex, and age,
All lines in the sand drawn to disparage.
We should agree that race be set aside,
Bound together in one Human pride?
Our world needs new words and labels,
Not old words containing past fables.
Words that create, unite, and rejoin,
Not words that change on the flip of a coin.
Straight should mean unbent?
Snowflake should be heaven sent.
Gay should be a happy feeling.
Black’s big “B” should begin peeling.
I applaud the generation of Ze.
The neutral meaning of he or she.
A word with definition created anew.
A word defining both me and you.
Copyright © Michael Vacek | Year Posted 2017
Know you not, that I live in pain?
With features that drives me insane,
No matter, how much I try in vain,
I am a girl in a body for men!
To the world I am a bit *****,
That makes me a victim of bully and sneer,
For my piercings in my nose and ear,
And those pretty earrings that I love to wear,
Is it a sin to dress in a skirt?
And my blouse frills that I wish to flirt,
All for an organ that makes me; part,
With my identity deep in my heart?
How I wish, I could walk in my heels,
And seek attention of men with skills,
To shower me with loving care and will,
And presence that provides me a joyous feel;
My passionate desire is to have a friend,
Girl with whom I could delightfully spend,
Moments discussing fashions latest trend,
And secrets to keep unto our lives end.
The world impedes me from breaking my shell,
And my desire to be a belle,
Yet there are moments I live in a spell,
Know that I’m stuck in hell!
In recognition of the plight of Transgenders in our society!!
Copyright © Pradipta Roy Choudhury | Year Posted 2018
A crude rag doll
stands with no balls,
and with it`s fly down,
throws it`s **** to the wind
and says, "pump me."
And I think to myself,
"Aha!…So that`s who the 3rd
Copyright © Charlie Knowlton | Year Posted 2018
(april the 27th 1994)
far too many brave compatriots died
flooding rivers of tears were cried
far too many families ripped apart
daggers cutting into their heart
the pain is felt still deep today
on this glorious sun-splashed South African Freedom Day
as we pause and remember those who do not remain with us anymore
as we appreciate the fruits that their sacrifice and struggle bore
far too many to count and to name
but we honour them all while we keep burning that eternal flame
...Oliver Reginald Tambo
just a few, but so many still nameless
who were brutally cut down
by a racist system that was merciless, and cruelly shameless
we honour you, today
but we remember you each and every day
when we breathe in the air of the freedom that you craved
as we walk the roads of a wounded but healing country that you saved
from itself, for the hate and racism and hushed prejudice of race and gender and religion and sexual persuasion and caste and creed
that you so valiantly fought against, is still with us, as it on fear and ignorance does feed
the odour of racism and hate
of white and black and jew and muslim and hindu and catholic and yellow and brown
is a living parasite that lives and thrives all across this beautiful world, from cities and villages and hamlets, to the smallest rural town
it may become a mark of shame upon us all
so we have to, today, struggle against and boldly fight
for the sacrifices of the many can never be cheapened, by the polite dinner-table murmurs of hate, try as hard as they might
for if we as a nation,
are to truly step out of the lashing cold painful rain
we have to continue your struggle
so that your supreme sacrifices may not have been in vain...
and so we say
'hamba kahle, comrades'
to you who laid your young lives down and slipped away
so that we who remain may in the sunlight and out of the rain live and breathe and stay
in a country, and in a world
where religion and gender and sexual-persuasion and all colourful hues
may mingle and love and laugh and cry together on the sun-filled avenues
so thank you, comrades, for showing us a better path that we must embark on as we shuffle onwards into a brighter tomorrow
away from the hurt of the past, and away from the tears and away from all the sorrow
for the true freedom that we seek now, is the freedom from our own racism, our own prejudices, our own sexism, our own petty hates and bottled-up anger
for therein, lies the fight ahead
for therein, lies the real and growing danger.
The Struggle Continues...
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013
"Oh," she whispers, "but she's here with a boy!" Her words, especially the painted blue one, stick to her palm covering her lips and mouth, I lace my fingers through yours and this happens simultaneously on opposite sides of the room, we look at each other and smile, the suppressed laughter in our mouths a balloon blown so full it's about to pop,
You're not all boy.
We laugh because she saw you from far away, she saw you and your hair that basically spells out either, 'lesbian,' or, 'boy,' across your forehead.
I look at your eyes. I tell you: Jesus, she thinks you're a boy and she thinks I'm straight we've neeever been in this situation before.
And, oh, that waitress that one time said, "thank you sir," when you handed her your credit card, her words overflowing with poisonous flirtation, spilling out of her mouth along with a biohazardous receipt, Her fingertips brushed yours as she handed it to you,
She didn't know. Painful ignorance.
After she left, you asked, "So is she a lesbian? Or..."
I didn't have the heart to tell you that she thought you were all boy.
I also didn't have the heart to believe the waitress didn't know she was feeding us poison.
you acted like it was nothing, but I, like, internally growled or something because the only two people who are this protective over someone else are moms and girlfriends.
She whispers, "Oh, but she's here with a boy!" and the blue word caresses our cheeks like your thumb and mine, currently participating in some sort of passive aggressive thumb makeout session because that's a nervous habit we have when we hold hands.
And we have the words "boy" and "lesbian" written across our foreheads, so it's a good thing I focus on your eyes.
Copyright © k8 pterous | Year Posted 2014
Dancing all around
Frolicking through fields
Just like you!
Copyright © Smail Poems | Year Posted 2013
I was fascinated by frogs, dinosaurs, and outer space.
Comic books, video games, and fast cars to race.
I got my clean clothes dirty and skinned my knees.
I spent my afternoons climbing high up in the trees.
Came home from the playground with shoes full of sand.
Went fishing, and held up my catch with my bare hand.
I would get on my rusty, blue bike and ride to the park.
Where we played games of tag or catch almost until dark.
After school, I would go play baseball with the boys.
Then, stay up late, listening to music and make noise.
My homework sat in my backpack and never got done.
I was too preoccupied with finding adventure and having fun.
I was the tomboy that liked building Lego block walls.
I was also a girl who played with pretty Barbie dolls.
Richard Lamoureux's Gender Bender Contest
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014
Don’t you ever wear a smile
With a rose on your lips
That seducing frown in your eyes
Such a mysterious beam
I started to scroll down
To know you even more
Just to write this poem
Something sexy about you
What’s behind that glaring smile
Nothing to be embarrassed
Sexuality doesn’t matter
Might hear a lot things
But nothing’s wrong
So stay as you are- sexy!
Copyright © Lei Strauss | Year Posted 2016
Tingles run from the tip of his nose to the tip of his toes
His body starts to panic & secretes
Pearls of salted water on every inch of his being
That soon enough will show through his clothes
He can feel his heart pounding in his chest
The blood running through his veins
The pounding in his brain
He wants nothing more than for their fingers to intertwine
And walk down the street hand in hand
If his palms could just, in this moment, not sweat
Showered, **** & shaved
Dressed elegantly, yet not too fancy
Dressed as a man should, protecting his integrity
Showing his power & authority
By being behaved and showing off his masculinity
They both have twinkles in their eyes
Time, when they're together seems to pass them by
When comes the time for the first kiss,
They both feel the anxiety
Their arms wrap around each other,
It comes naturally
Their lips touch
Her lips are so soft
They fit perfectly with his
People pass them by and give them a glance
Most feeling joy or even envy
No one seems to be going berserk
Over a public display of affection
Between a woman & a man
He gets to feel all those things & not be judged
He gets to walk down the street with his girl holding hands
He gets to kiss her in public and not be criticized
Why can't I have that?
When I get ready for her,
I ****, shower & shave
I dress elegantly, yet not to fancy
I dress like a man, not like a woman should
I am behaved and showing off my masculinity
When I see her,
I get tingles from the tip of my nose to the tips of my toes
My body starts to panic & secretes
Pearls of salted water on every inch of my being
That soon enough will show through my clothes
When I hear her voice,
I can feel my heart pounding in my chest
The blood running through my veins
The pounding in my brain
When I'm with her,
I want nothing more than for our fingers to intertwine
And walk down the street hand in hand
If my palms, in that moment, could just not sweat
When I spend time with her,
We both have twinkles in our eyes
Time when were together seems to pass us by
When I kiss her for the first time,
We both feel the anxiety,
Our arms wrap around each other,
It comes naturally
Our lips touch
Every time I kiss her I think to myself,
How her lips are so soft
And how they fit perfectly with mine
Copyright © Charley Davidson | Year Posted 2015
That little girl in the picture was never me.
I was always this body
but you hid me.
under pink flounces and
was hidden by the universe’s cruel joke
I was always this brain
locked with a red satin bow. To keep the world from knowing
I’m not your baby to cuddle and hold, keeping safe from the world. I’m not the one to be protected from the mean girls.
I don’t need to learn. To tease, the boys on the playground.
I am who the world is scared of, saying that in my creation someone made a mistake.
I am NOT a mistake.
Protect me from the men who hurt me because, I cut my hair. Tearing the ribbons which adorned it
and wrapping them ‘round my breasts.
Let me chase the girls
better yet let the girls say NO, I don’t want to be chased. And allow me be the type of boy who can respect that. Allow me to be any type of boy I want.
Respect me. Don’t just allow me.
Take a new picture of me, one that isn’t a lie.
Look at this picture, the only one which tells the truth
Put my now smiling face on your
Copyright © Nicholas Goldstein | Year Posted 2016
Who are you
Your father's son or daughter
Or your mothers?
If you are your father's
You gotta have his surname
But if you are your mother's
Her name you don't take
But once you get married
Oh, boy! Your surname won't change
Hey girls, What makes you change your surname?
This is anomalous
An assault on women rights
A blow to the fair sex
Whoever hath made this rule
He must be a damn big fool!!
Copyright © mazhar butt | Year Posted 2014
Me pregunto que hay detras de mi reflejo obscuro en el monitor,
Estas ahi? –me pregunto sin cesar.
añoro el sonido de tus mensajes,
La fuerza de tus palabras
Que dia a dia estremesen mi ser
Alentando me a suguir aqui.
Esta ahi?- pregunto nuevamente.
Como es possible que sin saber quien sos
Invadas mis pensamientos?
Asaltes mis Sueños??
Y alegres mi corazon???
Se que detras de mi reflejo hay alguien,
Si eres tu, no lo se.
Copyright © Rahima Espat | Year Posted 2015
Some people try
To figure us out.
We sensitive men
Who wander about
Making living with pen.
In lives filled with goals
And family and friends.
All taken in stride,
In the tone of our voice
The words of our choice
The songs that we sing
We are gentlemen.
With rarely the build
Of a Hollywood star
Boxer or Olympian,
Still, we maintain
Solid good health.
Cook and attend
Opera or shoot
At the range,
With a friend.
All taken in stride,
In the time that we give
The fire in our eyes
Our soft spoken ways
And honest dignity.
We are gentlemen.
On any given day
We walk dogs in the park
Enjoy Handel, Mozart
With minimal need
For profane tirade,
We shuffle about.
With kids by our side
All taken in stride,
In loyal devotion
Lives that we lead
Laws that we heed
We are gentlemen.
© Michael Wegman 2014
Copyright © Michael Wegman | Year Posted 2014
Freedom lost in the blink of an eye,
Selling flag nooses for resuscitation,
Embracing flawed ideology without even reading,
Against the bystanding citizen and the egalitarian opposition,
All in the name of matriarchal Marxism,
Submitting future generations to intellectual genocide,
With a porcelain mask of pseudo-benevolence,
You spew lies and propaganda demanding executive orders of masculinity's temperance,
So with societal lynchings,
Your dogma is breaching,
The foundations of animosity,
Into the world of pure insanity.
Copyright © Michael Zavaletta | Year Posted 2015
Never treat a woman
like an object.
Copyright © Bill Lindsay | Year Posted 2015