Best Rights Poems
I play like a girl, I hit like a girl
You say I throw like a girl,
And when I run -- I run like a girl!
All that plus more, enjoy this one-size-fits-all
Who and what I want comes from being strong
Classy and fabulous, this is my song!
I've been told, cut to size
The world is dark and gray when life becomes an insult
Take heed when I speak my mind,
I am tough, outstanding, and beautiful!
Move ahead --- say it twice, I smell nice
A taste of Cool Water and Justice Perfume
I have a non-stop multitask fixation
As a woman, everything about me is hidden
Magic and alluring are the only joy you'll need
I'm empowered at this moment!
Endorsing Myself, with a certain sorta mystique
I deliver an independent will,
Don't ever underestimate my physique
I am a caregiver, a female who won't give up the fight
I remain firm and believe all women have equal rights
I walk and talk Like A Girl
Wearing heels breaking the sounds of Wedding Bells
I am, Mona's unforgettable smile, standing tall Like Miss Liberty
I am, Betsy America's #1 designer, I am you and full of life.
The sound in your eyes isn't listening!
You imagine I am weak -- not strong enough -- brave enough,
You call me different and difficult!
Still, you want my warmth -- my love -- my attention
I am not less, I am more
I am a woman -- I frown -- I cry -- I hurt and yell at the universe
Nevertheless, I make a difference, like a girl, I smile
A smile, never seen or felt before, both defined and undefined
Your heart will ask and implore for more
Like a girl, I'll drive you wild, looking pretty "You're In Love!"
My Self-confidence comes from who I am deep inside
Everything I've become follows the makeup on my face
Bare and nude, I am the Madonna flowering the mood
At the end of every day, I have one other thing to say
The Next Time You ask me to cook and clean
Because you think, I belong in the kitchen
You better believe I'm doing it my way
LIKE A GIRL
For centuries, minorities have fought
to gain their human rights. How can it be
that even now so many folks do not
feel safe in “civilized” society?
And one can’t fathom the atrocities
this very minute somewhere going on
affecting innocents in towns and cities!
Great wickedness from day to dusk to dawn!
Laws were established to ensure that we
would have our freedoms each and every day.
I look around me. More and more I see
injustice taking human rights away!
I’m most appalled by censorship and lies
controlling us to feed elitists’ greed
as my so-called “free” government denies
the rights our constitution guaranteed!
The flagrant disregard of human rights
that’s happening today is sickening.
It’s history repeating . . . and the lights
are going out! End times are quickening.
Wake up and see what’s coming! If you don’t,
too soon it will be too late for us all.
Come stand and fight with me, for if you won’t,
we’ll be as slaves, and great shall be our fall.
Dec. 8, 2021
for the 'Human Rights' Poetry Contest of Robert James Liguori
Seems like I could be on top of the world.
I think about poetry like my tongue is pearled.
Just the other day I wrote a poem to honor another poet.
I spun around in a spin to unfurl to the Soupers whorled.
I know they think they’re the bombshell.
They are big headed and believe their words cast the spell.
They vortex puts us in a whirlpool.
They billow swells.
Soupers let’s keep it real.
The universe zeal.
We entertain each other with our thoughts.
Poetry is our appeal.
We write to regale.
Anything else considered is to no avail.
I laugh aloud.
Soupers the advantage is a tall tale.
I am here to share-out.
That there is such a thing as an amateur in the house.
I know many fill the title of a poet professional.
This is where real skills are grandeur and profound.
Soupers, the truth expose.
A writer’s right shows.
Angstrom to a wavelength, the brain thinks and the mind depicts.
As a Poetess, here I throw it to the wind; that it is you with the *******.
To the Souper who asked for a rebuttal to his slam.
__________________________________________________________________|
Penned February 18, 2015!
As a byway ahead grows quite dim
late evening ‘s radiance slowly pales away ---
This fiery yet compassionate woman brushes luster
into her hair and retraces the gleam
of Mother Mary's pledge so she could face
her courage to raise consciousness from unknown whispers;
praying that daybreak would find a clearer path
back home to empowerment... a reminder
that though one’s world is vast and diverse,
she is connected to every female through ' gender balance':
And through a need for equality, an inner light-wave
cuddles her in the soft of a one-universe's halo,
anointed by the gods, the earth, and of freedom itself.
-------------
March Poems, Old Or New For Prizes Part 3 Of Easter Series
For Carolyn Devonshire's Contest
-------
'Gender Balance' is one of the themes
for International Women's Day
Stagnant hateful world we live
Something has got to give
Mass destruction of the human soul
Innocent lives have become the toll
False prophets who have manipulated the word
Has planted a seed in every boy and girl
It's time to take back ALL our lost
And teach them love at any cost
Stop judging people on how they look
Or who they love,or what book
Becoming righteous is a high ask
who indeed can claim this real prize
for God declares all as sinners
so need God to give you rise
Being able to achieve righteous deeds
won't bring a righteousness divine
for deeds can't make you such
only God can show you His sign
God is the author of true righteousness
for He is righteous perfectly true
always has been past and forever
brings Christ's imputed righteousness upon you
The good Lord now sees us as Christ
with His righteousness upon our frame
so God accepts us as His holy ones
now Satan can't cast us with any blame
Now we can do righteous deeds
seeing we are righteous altogether
such a blessing and privilege to have
God has endowed it upon us forever
(Quote:
" We do not become righteous by doing righteous deeds but, having been made righteous, we do righteous deeds".)
- Martin Luther ( 1483-1546)
A woman’s decision to choose should
Never have been a matter for the courts
A woman knows, for her, what is best to do
When facing the realities of last resorts.
No pregnancy is possible without a p**is
Will the courts now make a ruling on its use?
Or simply remove the woman’s freedoms,
While letting the man continue to abuse?
Sadly, now, some woman cannot determine
Something that will affect their whole life
Because a few “men of renown” who lied
To gain position, are now promoting strife.
The decision to abolish Roe vs Wade
Must not stand; it is morally reprehensible,
What happens now to the unwanted children?
Obviously, the courts are not very sensible!
Collection of cells trumping living tragedies
Unwanted children who will struggle to exist,
While women’s rights are trampled in mud
Pro-life and pro-choice cannot even co-exist.
Written June 27, 2022
#45 on Best New Poems List
Poetry Soup
July 20, 2022
Oklahoma just passed an executive order
About the obvious disorder
Of letting men break through the border
Called a women’s bathroom door
Which has always been there for
Keeping out men and furthermore
Those who are men no more
Oh, some may scream, ‘where are their rights?
They’re out there fighting the fights,
To pee with one’s wearing tights.’
Yes, but would you let your daughter
Much too young, with hardly a care
Into those bathrooms alone
With a ‘whatever’ that shaves its chest hair?
And whatever else the ‘whatever’ may share
Is that what you would condone?
OK, may say no to athletes competing
Even if their male body parts were deleted
With women on equal ground
The women don’t need that type around
To race against for athletic glories
Like AI competing with us for poetry stories
But still why does a government
Need an executive order to present
The obvious difference between gals and guys
Even when one or more’s in disguise?
Well, it’s the same old trick with a new bent
Pushed by the bought and paid fed government
They cloud what it means about gender
And try to stuff family morals in a blender
So that when they offer their crisis solution
We’ll bow down to their wicked resolution
Of their digital money and total control
Over all our bodies, minds, and souls
Partially paved by those with a men’s skull
Who can no longer use a urinal
Reflections of pink, and gold on heaven’s floor,
A hint of memories that came millenniums before,
And the radiance of God’s glory, from the heart's core,
Is a new dawn, for our taking.
In these shades of light, a narrative is spun,
Of women's strength and battles won,
For rights to choose, for equality won't be shun,
With each morning, a world's foundation shaking.
They rise for autonomy, their voices clear,
For choices over bodies, a future sincere,
Where decisions are theirs, with no shadow of fear,
With each morning, a new dawn's awakening.
Equal pay, a demand that echoes wide,
Breaking the chains of wage gaps, side by side,
A future where worth isn't unfairly denied,
With each morning, a brighter horizon breaking.
Promotions earned through merit and skill,
Not hindered by gender, a world to fulfill,
A future where glass ceilings shatter at will,
With each morning, progress relentless and unshaking.
Hope whispers of change, with each sunrise,
A world where justice and fairness arise,
Where women's rights, like the sun, shall rise,
With each morning, a future resolute for the taking.
Lonely days and nights of childhood
spent in tears, no comfort
wishing for a gentle caress, a peck
aching for the tender words
weary of the ignorance
my heart cries for the child in me
Unjust is the love that singles out a child,
the rest yearn, birthed by the same
as if a duty thats done and then
discarded to climb, no support to be lent
they wander till the end
my heart cries for them
where is the glory that the world sings
of motherly love and care
where is the justice that prevails
the right of every child
they sing of equality, when
at home the child feels unfair
oh ruthless world I beseech
prithee give a care.
© (12 May '15)
* Honorable mention in the contestShow me your spirit' by FJ Thomas on 19 May 2015.
CONQUERING THE BLIND SCALES OF PATRIARCHY
Crystal cold are the pupils of some men
staring red to jailed porcelain dolls skin
dowered for the title of chastity,
your curves, your swell, they treated like machines.
You can be the light midst darkness, woman
yet why they see your body as gold mines,
your face displays no favor from their sight.
Fruits of labor you bring harvest nothing
your virginal flesh dead ere blossoming
suspended by sharp claws of ignorance?
Aged with grief but rising from conquered fears,
woman today shake white-walled home of kings
to trumpet-loud the darkness in her feet...
Wounded is her heart but still she will stand,
her message free flying high without wings
She will fight even with the threats of death
balancing blind scales of patriarchy,
Fears foregone, her bravery stifling pain,
peace and justice, equality to all
the rights for women her ever after toil!
______________________________________________________
Patriarchy - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Name - Thomas Martin
~~Placed 1st~~~
Olive Eloisa Guillermo
10:41 pm, July 16, 2015
The traveler reeked of weariness,
His companion was Fatigue
Wear upon his clothes suggest
He'd come a million league.
Gaunt were eyes deep set and brown
Above his cheekbones high
His being was pure somnolence
And I heard his silent cry.
Hard roads had been his travel
The pains chiseled on his face
In lines of furrows on his brow
Permanently enlaced
Around I saw no motion there, then ...
His head began to rise
Finally he looked at me ...
Suffering in his eyes.
So quietly I attended
And with a heavy heart
I wanted so to speak to him ...
But knew not how to start
Within his labored breathing
He then began to speak
His words, when finally spoken
Were truthful and unique
His lips worked to form the words -
Then said; "My name is: Common Man,
I'm a father; I've worked hard;
' always done the best I can.
"The road's become uphill and steep with
Burdens I can't propel
I've tried to move on forward -
But, I stumbled here - and fell.
"There are others on me
Who so do depend
I must move on forward,
This mustn't be my end.
"Now I must reach out to you
'Cause before I've never failed
I'm turning now to you
'Fore on hardships I'm impaled".
A calloused hand then extended
Toward my outstretched hand
And I want to heed the call
For this Common Man.
But, Greed and Avarice have won
And assistance can't be lent -
Wall Street, you see, owns me now:
I'm Your Government.
I am a child
Like the one you tuck in bed
The one you kiss on the head
The one who gets loved instead
The one who is so well fed
I am a child
I am a child
Like the one who gives you joy
Your pretty girl and fine boy
The one who gets every toy
The one who none dares annoy
I am a child
I am a child
With no home to call my own
The cold reaching to my bone
Hunger pangs, all that I’ve known
In tattered clothes, I have grown
I am a child
I am a child
The pavement my only bed
Dreaming of a piece of bread
With a small heart full of dread
My life hanging from a thread
I am a child
I am a child
With no gifts beneath the tree
With no hope to be set free
Wanting like YOUR child to be
Why, oh, why, can’t you love ME?
I am a child
I am YOUR child
I am GOD’s child
Remember me this Christmas….
Eileen Manassian Ghali
I'm privileged that Norma Nashid, founder of Restore a Child, has asked me to be an ambassador for the organization to help raise awareness of the plight of less fortunate children around the world. She asked me to write a poem for their newsletter, and I am sharing her FB post regarding it here with you.
(The poem below was written by Eileen Manassian Ghali, a professor of English at Middle East University in Beirut, Lebanon. She dedicated her poem this Christmas to Restore a Child. Her mother, Angel Dikran Manassian was my favorite teacher and my first teacher in school. Now I get the honor of enjoying the beautiful writing of her daughter, Eileen.--Norma Nashed)
If you are interested in finding out more about this humanitarian organization, please look them up on FB. I will be writing an article soon to highlight the plight of Syrian Refugee children in Lebanon. I hope my Mama would be proud of me!
restoreachild.org
http://ymlp.com/zMiueR (latest newsletter)
https://www.facebook.com/RestoreAChild
My poem will be published in the next edition
MY CLOUD by JOHN G. LAWLESS
I don’t remember asking…..
yet I am still hearing a babbling brook
of mindless chatter rolling pebbles
through my ears and across my mind.
Noisome, acridly scented, sounds,
a Charlie Brown like… wah–wah-wah
droning in the background of my life.
“You can’t say that!” “It might offend
somebody – somewhere – someday.”
“How can you even think that way??!!!”
“Don’t you care how other people feel?”
“Do you have any feelings at all for them?”
“You can’t do THAT!” “WHAT WILL
PEOPLE THINK!” “ Didn’t you see that sign?”
“Why can’t you just follow instructions, do
what you’re told, believe that we are right,
that WE know what is best for you?”
“If you ate less there would be more food
to feed the hungry.”(Yeah but then I’d be hungry.)
“If you drove less there would be more fuel
for others to burn and fewer emissions.”
(How the hell does that work???)
“If you would only follow all the shoulds
and musts then you’d know the reasons
why you should entrust the future of the
planet, the diet of your kids, to those of
us entitled to pry off freedom’s lids.”
“Every voice is equal when every voice
is heard.” (That could be said of cows
and sheep and noise within the herd.)
“What is it that you want?”, they ask
in obvious disdain and shudder when
I mention my First Amendment claim.
I wish that those who speak their minds
would allow me to do the same without
their constant reprimand “that I should
be ashamed”. When I speak, and write, and
act in a manner that I choose, I shouldn’t
be belittled by the puppets of the fools.
I do not need the politics of food, sex,
and lies, nor special interest groups that
see only through “their” eyes. I cannot
be an island, so I choose to be a cloud -
sit above the melee of “their” ever
spreading shroud. Therefore, the
conversations may be ended by
a verse, a substantial update
from the “islands” brutal curse
as I, in karaoke style, sing a
sixties refrain aloud:
HEY! HEY! YOU! YOU!
GET OFFA MY CLOUD!!**
**The Rolling Stones – Get off of My Cloud(1965)
John G. Lawless
5/30/2015
That’s not my elephant, this here’s Ella my wife
She claims the extra pounds came with her change of life
She now takes ballet, but watching her dance in tights
Sends chills down my spine and gives second graders frights
Her plate’s piled high with lasagna and spaghetti
Chowing down on our drive to the Serengeti
I think every husband should have a bill of rights
“Euthanasia,” I’ll plead, when they read her last rites