Raised Iron works
thrust out of the blacktop.
Women-hole covers
appear; the tip of the spear
above new drilled silos.
Rubber slugs concrete.
Debora steers her way
through a slalom of
gender specific movements.
The road bucks under
her taught belly,
while fingers push
a wheel through
a video game maze.
Long laboring feminists
under hard hats
are digging her,
so she just smiles -
tries to relax.
why are they always asked to be though?
and not cry when they feel low?
world will laugh they say.
and thats why they are asked to not show.
they never express how they really feel
but trust me even boys weep alone at night.
tears are not gender specific,
even he needs his space to feel light.
not just me and you,
but every human has their own thing.
boys are emotionless,
is what this world thinks.
its just he’s good at hiding his pain
but that doesn’t mean his heart don’t ache.
even boys shatter, even boys suffer
even boys cry when they break.
when he is asked to take all the load
why is he not allowed to even weep?
why do we ignore him when he express?
when he’s the one sacrificing his sleep.
don’t ignore them be their shoulder when they need.
yes, boys do cry when they broke apart.
they are human after all.
and every human has a heart.
For a Taoist,
rivers and their valleys
are iconic
ecowomanist yintegrity,
Yet St. Francis feels rivers,
but probably not their embracing valleys,
as Brothers.
As the River running through my backdoor life
flows from northern right
downstream to southern left,
I remain nondualistically of two minds,
and probably all transinsurrections
in and out between
River waters flowing
and valleyed land supporting
gender specific identities
I cannot realistically experience upstream
from down,
or flow from strong stability
toward this River's mouth
emptying into nonviolent surf
progressively surging forward
and regressively back
From overflowing ocean sources
refilling MotherEarth's support
for stable
and resilient,
public
and intimate health care
TransGendered systems for all
Brother/Sister sacredly bilateral
spiritual strength
flowing naturally down
and out,
redeeming up
and in
Taoist interdependent rivers
and their intersectional valleys
flowing deep sea green
integrity.
There's a shop on the street
that sells foetid meat
There's a boy on the corner
His corpse competes with the odour
There's dust covering mankind
the cruel and the kind
Ochre villages and towns
where death rains down
It's gender specific
noisy horrific
I seen it on telly
I ate ice cream and jelly
It's far away from me
But my heart is breaking...
He's a WORD Casanova
He butters them up
Gives sips from his cup
words syrupy sweet
a tasty love treat
makes the girls swoon
to his sensual croon
The Word Casanova
His words are his charm
they dismantle alarm
“sugar and spice”
and they gush..."OH…SO... NICE!"
Demanding submission
to his domination
He metes out a rule
and watches them drool
The Word Casanova
The thing that's obscene
In his plan, in his scheme
He plays and he preys
as his trap there he lays
he wants every one
each heart must be won
Not content to befriend
Wants much more in the end...
The Word Casanova
So he hurts and he maims
And they writhe as he blames...
Ladies….LADIES!!
It's just a game...a GAME
What a shame!
The Word Casanova
This is a poem I wrote some time ago but deleted when I was considering leaving this place. I'm slowly reposting my deleted poems. I'm fully aware that a woman can play this role as well....a Casanovette! It is not gender specific
He could charm anyone
His words
So sweet
The sentiments
Such treats
Tasty
Divine
So fine
He was a charmer
He left behind trails
Of sugared words
That lead up to his home
Made up of candy
Ever so dandy
Enticing
Making the visitor want to take a bite
Sugarcoated delight
Cotton candy rhymes
That would melt in the mouth
But, oh, what is this?
Something spoils the bliss
In a minute or two
A taste different, new
Sweet turns to bitter
Words turn vile
And there goes the smile
Tears melt the cotton candy
Making it gritty, sandy
The truth is out
It’s a house made of doubt
He was such a charmer
But he was really a harmer
Whose candy was striped
With the blood of the hearts
Of those he’d left behind
Eileen Manassian
Disclaimer: I fully realize this is not gender specific. There are charmer/harmers on both sides.
The tragedy of intolerance causes unneccessary pain. How can people be so blind. Love is not gender specific.
Oh, rose so blue
Dripping with the evening dew
Your petals are so alive
Without the rain, you continue to thrive
While the petals of the flower inside of me
Are quickly wilting in this reality
Our mating was just society’s game
For the end of our romance none can be blamed
Both understood it that price that must be paid
To live in this society our secrets must remain in the shade
Some like us walk in the shadows living a double life
But he chose acceptance, I agreed, and became his wife
But something happened on the day we wed
I fell in love, many tears were soon shed
My life was filled with regret
How would I ever forget?
But today I understand
He loves another man
In this we were the same
Our marriage was just a game
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.