she was as curvy and convex as a teacher can be
with green eyes that glowed like a Venus moon
Bait for enticement, making students eager for advisement
the males congregated as if she was a new queen to the hive
we females were irritated she had stolen our thunder
A quiet dare to every fear that said I shouldn't chase this thrill,
each shaky push a promise that I'd bend the board to my own skill.
The concrete hummed beneath me like it knew I'd come to rise,
and every wobble taught me how to trust the fire behind my eyes.
The park became my canvas, every ramp a line to trace my name,
each rail a chance to rewrite chapters where I once felt small or tame.
Falls turned into teachers, bruises into proof I showed up strong,
and every scrape reminded me I've had resilience all along.
I learned to carve with courage, letting motion pull me through,
discovering that age can't cage the part of me that still feels new.
There's art in every risk I take, in every trick I dare to start,
because there's always more to learn when you ride with an open heart.
She walks the shoreline fearless, every curve her own to show,
the sun leans in to kiss her skin and make her spirit glow.
Waves applaud her comeback as they rush to meet her feet,
the wind lifts up her hair as if to say, "now this is heat."
Birds chirp their admiration while the sand bows soft below,
for her inner light outshines the body everyone's dying to know.
I send my wheels on uneven ground,
fear humming louder than the street,
but courage sparks when I push off,
a girl who won't accept defeat.
I land the trick I thought I'd miss,
not built for crowns, I’m built for this.
Highland bull arrived on our doorstep in time for Halloween
His hair was all curly, his eyes had an all-knowing sheen
He asked to speak to the witch’s autumn queen
We knew he meant Miss Minnie, she is not at all mean.
Minnie came by and did some talking with Highland bull.
They rode around on the farm and instigated a taffy pull
We had a lovely bonfire, when the party began to lull
The festivities were marvelous, they were never dull.
Lighting up their world for charm
Newly or fully.
In those unsure, bashful ways.
More provocatively.
Adding up to does each phase
Girl to woman smiled
A lifetime in a month of
The moony-compiled.
Contest : Write a Beautiful Verse
Sponsor : Constance La France
Third Placing : Standard Contest : Jan 26
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“Without the Female Human Form, life as we know it, would fold & our entire Cosmos would be the lesser. Whatever it looks like to egoic vision, it encodes powerful human birthing energies, therefore is the most Beautiful Creation.” : Poet
__________________________________
Sacrosanct female form, undulating curves receptive
from soles, toes to nine openings imbibe Gaia's yields
crown maned entice Sky gifts, gaining sons, daughters, fields
arms, buxom or slender circle efforts, keeps us from harm
plump-honeyed baps drip milk feeding mouths sucking charmed
bellies endearingly blood-nurture life's births
caboose ebony or ivory mirrors omni Earth
phalanges stroke or wrinkled contained, nuances claim
spine serpentine homes mutating blue violet flame
coral lips mirthfully melt flesh intoxicate fruity
its purpose inspiring cameo nurturing, a duty
Female Form, embodies Now Power Beauty !
Salsa classes
I learned to dance at
family and friend’s parties.
I learned by watching.
Not very structured.
When I dance with my husband;
he complains that I don't let him lead.
My mom taught me,
women should be in control.
I danced like this for many years.
At 50, following my soul's desire.
I took my first salsa class.
What a surprise!
Maybe,
my husband was right.
Just let the other take the lead.
Let go and flow.
Perhaps. I can change
my unconscious dance
into a more harmonious
sensual movement
This shelter, most sturdy
For friendship
Is by them erected;
The female.
Men scratch heads! When that on
The inside
Shrunk back from is measured
For a gale!
Violently overwrought.
Sob on sob.
Whiny. Bewilders! Noise
Off the scale!
i feel rage inside me.
Itching, begging to erupt from within.
I cry for reasons unknown.
Tears trickle down before i can realize
so i look up at the sun as punishment.
I want to remain stoic.
My personal martyrdom in exchange for protest.
This cruel world has robbed me of much to receive more of my essence.
I believe tears are extractions of our life form
Our soul losing pieces of itself, defences too weakened and fragile to protect itself.
Instead I choose to feel my own warm embrace, shut my eyes and clasp my hands over my ears to drown out the noise.
I breathe in deeply, exhaling all the pain
waiting patiently until the rage returns.
A wasp stung
my ring finger
Place of the ring!
My hand is double
Sharp acid pain
This is a sign
Oh, save me!
I am afraid!
Save me, Light!
the adorable teen dancers with the bouncing hair are sweet
dressed in outrageously cute frothy plaid and tule skirts
I wonder if they are wearing matching shorts
One of them should be wearing matching panties
She turns and bounces around a bit more
Her skirt flies up an inch to her waist.
I see her shorts and feel relieved.
black female warrior
(2/7/13)
She was my black female warrior and she stood proud and tall
And upon her shoulders, her silk hair did fall
A spear in one hand and an axe in the other
No one would mess with her, not even her brother.
The strength of a lion searching for prey
She would not let anything stand in her way.
She knew where she lived - it was a jungle out there
But she was strong in spirit and did not care.
She is the black warrior and as strong as can be
You will find her in the annexes of history.
Just like the movie of "BETTY AND CORETTA"
Who showed what they can do- when they stood
Up against the politicians of the RED, WHITE and BLUE.
We are still being monitored by the land, air and sea
But we'll continue the fight so that we could be free.
These two women are the black warriors who walk
Hand in hand with all oppressed people who are willing to take a stand.
I am Hispanic and we've been denied many rights
Just like any other nationality, we're all willing to fight.
It does not matter our color, religion or
Sexual preference that we may have
"ONE NATION UNDER GOD WITH LIBERTY AND JUSTICE FOR ALL"
That is FREEDOMS CALL.
© L. RAMS
All my female friends are;
charming spring flowers
in any and every season...!
They said she loved only one man —
that’s how the old song goes.
But the truth?
It was a tree —
no metaphor, no myth.
A real one:
knotted, gnarled,
older than shame itself.
She found it when her heart
was still raw from trying,
and men were hollow bells,
rung too many times.
So she tended it,
whispered to it,
sang into its bark
with a voice no longer needed elsewhere.
Her youth curled at its roots.
Her strength climbed its spine.
And every year, it grew
as she grew smaller.
She told her daughter,
“This is love. Quiet. Loyal. Rooted.”
But her daughter heard
the ache between the words.
She looked at the rope,
the sky,
the body curved like devotion —
and asked herself:
Was it really love,
or martyrdom in a dress?
They found her hanging —
peaceful,
like she was returning
to something
she’d never really left.
And the tree?
It didn’t break.
It didn’t bend.
It held her —
not like a tombstone,
like a witness,
like a mirror.
And then,
they were one —
not woman,
not wood,
but myth.
Whisper.
Wild thing.
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