Long bearded men
Each needs to read a chapter from handmaidstales
One in two of us are women
Our reproductive devices are own
Men of church leave our vaginas
Out of your remit
To your dogma
We won't submit
We alone will choose to be a mamma
And mammas among us
Are blessed with our babas
We are in control of our own vaginas
Not the church or the holy order
* trump withdrawing necessary funds from reproductive rights of women. abortion will go underground and millions of women may die as a result of this!!!:(
Categories:
mammas, abortion, anger, betrayal, religion,
Form: Rhyme
Long bearded men
Each needs to read a chapter from handmaidstales
One in two of us are women
Our reproductive devices are own
Men of church leave our vaginas
Out of your remit
To your dogma
We won't submit
We alone will choose to be a mamma
And mammas among us
Are blessed with our babas
We are in control of our own vaginas
Not the church or the holy order
Categories:
mammas, america, betrayal, people, political,
Form: Rhyme
I met a bum named William. I sit with him today. We're on the corner of Quincy and a street called McKay. He'd been there for some years now and no that's not OK. He wears a tear stained shirt and on some trash he lays. His pants are dirty and faded, and his socks ripped yesterday. His teeth are awfully brown and they're starting to decay. His hair used to be bronze now it's slowly turning grey.
Suddenly I heard him say, hopefully I will make it to see another day. I felt so sorry for him so I asked him if I may, take him to get some dinner and he said that would be OK. We went to Mammas diner and he looked down at his plate. Folded his dirty wrinkled hands and then began to pray. After grace he looked at me and said his thanks. As he started eating he began to explain his whole life story and what got him here today.
Categories:
mammas, america, culture, depression, giving,
Form: Blank verse
hiding in the lap of this field,
i can hear your barrel
knocking at soil,
chuckling at my
ramshackled dreams
it was you ,man
you was my brother once ,
younger son of my mother,
i can smell mammas
umbilical cord ,
when you throttle my heart,
pierces through my veins,
pouring chemical fumes
at my damp skin,
i prayed for your bliss,
to the eternity,
through my breaths, sighs,
you got golden marks,
crushing at my limbs,
you squeezed degrees
and fames,
your labs was my
mausoleum,
your pesticides
was my
killer
your fames was my loss,
i can see you brother
bearing the white powder
in your arms
to demolish my
larvas,
tadpoles,
with your famished
tongue
you made my sorrows ,
the best item for your
supper,
with a despairing sigh,
i'm writing my
name on your homes
again and again,
because your
sons may not know
what is a frog
Categories:
mammas, animal, betrayal, brother, death,
Form: Verse
Mama take me away from blood
kiss my cheek as mammas should, give
my breath to those who died, wash my
tongue for times I lied
Sooth the souls of comrades dead, into
battle bravely led, take my hand and lift
me free, let me walk neath apple tree
Please tell Papa that I tried, needn’t tell
him that I cried, and when you drive the
cows to home, remember mama,
I’m not alone
Categories:
mammas, mother, son, war,
Form: Free verse
Mamma's don't let your baby
Mamma's don't let your baby
grow up to be a poet.
With their broken heart out on their sleeve
writing words to make sure that you know it.
It starts with a love poem or the first brokenhearted.
Keep them close to you and don't let it get started.
Don't look away don't turn your back on them.
Or the poet gods come and shine down upon them.
Next thing you know they're jotting things down.
Then running it by you to see how it sounds.
With all good intentions they'll write of the skies
til teardrops like rivers will fall from your eyes.
Let em be cowboys or plumbers and such.
Poets are different and they feel too much
No mammas don't let your baby
grow up to be a poet.
With their broken heart out on their sleeve
writing words to make sure that you know it.
Edwin C Hofert
Categories:
mammas, analogy, character, children, conflict,
Form: Free verse
If I were queen for a day I would sit on my thrown
loving myself and all that I own
being pampered from head to toe
traveling worldwide whereever i want to go
If I were queen for a day I would live in a castle
living the life of glamour free from all hastle
relaxing on a secluded beach in the bahamas
and sippin endlessly on bahama mammas
If I were queen for a day I would dreess to the nine
everything I wear would have me looking so fine
smelling of perfume that's oh so sweet
living in the lap of luxury just can't be beat
All hail to the queen which is me
be it real life or fantasy
but wouldn't it be great to see
a dream turn into reality.
Categories:
mammas, day, fantasy, life,
Form: Rhyme