Objectify Poems | Examples

All You Care!

Naked and Revealed, 
Sexy or Lewd, 
What can I do
If I have them on me? 

Inseparable, heavy beads, 
Bulgy with shady teats. 
All you care:
Is it concealed well beneath bra strips? 

Gasping for breath, 
Sharp stabbing in my breasts, 
Lying on the bed, 
Nausea till my neck -
All due to the unbearable clasp at the chest. 

Tell me, 
Is it still my fault, 
If a brassiere is not enough for my ample busts to exalt? 

Should I cut them? 
Or should I burn them? 

Since I can't stop their charming dance, 
For those
Who only know how to objectify and sexualize their existence, 
Without any rightful cause. 

It's all you care about. 
Maybe what suffocates isn't the bras, 
But the disgust for what's beneath them -
And that's what I care about.

That word Reify

Reify..

This word

Showed up this morning..

"Make (something abstract) 

more concrete or real."

Objectivity clarifying

With more objectivity

More convincingly separate

Scientific practice alive..

Along with:

Nothing appearing to

Further objectify..

Narratives triggered by

Reify...

Papa the Objectifier

(Raven and Crystal)

Papa the Objectifier

Everywhere I look there are objects
Every shelf, table, nook and corner
Everywhere another item
Collected, amassed, treasured and displayed.

And this compulsion, obsession, vocation
Never ends, merely shifts around
Embracing a newfound subject
To objectify.

Papa, what did you do in the war?
What war son? Life is just a bowl of cherries,
And when it’s done we collect the pits
And they collect the bones.

(9/21/23)

A Harrowing Grief

Hills speak of a weathering,
each lays bare 
an allegory of bereavement.

Grief has its own inward milling.

What once was the high pulse 
of rapture
is now the nag of a heartbeat
sheathed 
like a stone in a shoe.

When you try to name the hurt,
objectify its presence,
it turns into a dog,
 a child, 
a perfect stranger,
a place lost or 
a place that found you lost

and there it sets 
a table and chair before you
so you can write from that place
to explain 
the curling vine of your sorrow
before it became 

a smooth worn pebble 
you now chafe and harrow
with threadbare fingers.

A Little Bird Told Me - 20 May 2020

Looking at flowers, then leaves, I began to wonder about the roots and seeds. Yes, I thought, that's what I learned in Biology, Botany, Biodiversity ... But a brilliant, brainy, breath-takingly beautiful budgerigar whispered to me:

"You are "thought" [taught to think in boxes, as PT says] to objectify Nature from birth, almost. For us critters, the entire plant or tree is one of us, a community where we help, house, and hallow each other. It is all ONE life form, don''t you see. What are leaves but flowers yet to be? What are flowers but leaves modified for reproduction? Are your reproductive organs separate in type and origin than the rest of your body? Don't humans start life as one-and-two cells? Don't you see the seed - small and insignificant, perhaps - carries generations of trees, fruit, food, and shelter in it?"

Struggle

They want me to dance
Always dance, never anything else
Dance
Always dance, their hopeful eyes
following my every move
Dance
But my music is mine
My moves are mine
Alone
Mine alone

I used to dance for myself
They saw me, wanted me to
Wanted me, all of me, devour me,
Dance
Dance
The world used to be mine
My world was of colour and moving
Moving colour, music and me
Dance

When I became their obsession
Possession
Objectify, Hunger, straitjacket
I lost it
Dance
I lost my dance
I lost myself
Became a blur, bore
Forgot worlds of wonder
Worlds of endless joy

I want no more, no more
I am of no one but me
If I dance
If I dance 
It will be for me, for me alone
Alone
Of no one
But me
Dance

Graeme Ballard

Graeme’s hero is Steven Gerrard, 
That Liverpool and LA football player,
And has Cerebral Palsy. It was hard, 
‘Cos doctors said he’d never blether. 

He was prematurely delivered 1979,
But can now lift 3x his body weight.
For his 8th birthday his parents fine,
Bought him a horse, sports to date.

He studied at Beaumont College, 
In Lancaster, where he got involved, 
In CP sports competitions to wage, 
His abilities and strength devolved. 

Joining Chorley town Athletic Club,
He became determined to make it, 
And in May 2012 Graeme did tub,
Taking silver, to sprint the Worlds fit. 

Then in the London Games, Paras,
He won another silver to objectify,
His raw talent in the T36 100 metres,
In which he does his dreams solidify.

The Two Women of Our Modern Day Society

Moina Michael was a teacher,
Who vowed to wear a poppy,
Each year so as to remember,
The fallen, alone and the dead.

She wrote a poem in reply,
To McCrae’s In Flanders Fields,
Promised thenceforth to objectify,
By the poppy, red for blood liberty.

As a lecturer she taught,
Disabled servicemen broken,
Asked of them their enterprise,
At making silk poppies as a token.

These poppies became the symbol,
Of the American Legion Auxiliary,
In 1921 when at a loose end,
In contextualising that battery.

French national Anna Guerin,
Brought these poppies to Britain,
Where the Royal British Legion, 
Bought nine million for certain.

We owe these two women,
The stability of our modernity,
Because they allowed us,
To reflect on horror positively.



Read Moina Michael's poem We Shall Keep Faith at:
http://www.greatwar.co.uk/poems/moina-michael-we-shall-keep-faith.htm

Let's Stop the *********** and Let's Make Love

***********

has to be

the ep-i-to-me

girls did not dream to be **** stars

girls dreamed to be teachers and lawyers

why o why

i ask you

does ***********

come and objectify

the bodies and minds

of so many

heartsouls

and do we not ask why

o why

do women and men have to lie

with each other

in the employ of pay

so that other lonely souls

can find a way to release

the stress

the barbaric system

that is capitalist

profit-driven

mad, insane world

unquestioned 

by far too many

when real world is possible

when unity is possible

when one day we can turn ***********

into love

let us turn *********** into love

and understand

the word love

and make sex about love

about love

about love.

Different Tresses

Like a yarn spindle was she
Pear shaped_ bottom heavy
Born with honey colored hair and very fair
Loved by her mother and her father's pride
Life was good in their loved filled little home

Soon another maiden fair
Joined the family clan
Just like an aunt was she with raven colored hair
Blessed with hour-glass figure danity hands and feet

The spindle and hour-glass
Enjoyed hours of play
Dreaming at times of who they would become one day_
Would they marry their knight in shining armor?
Would they become a star?

Surprise of surprises shortly in the future
Another little doll came to the home to dwell
Porcelian Doll dressed in pink with tresses of red
A new toy for the sisters this delicate doll
Light ivory complexion and green eyes so coy_

What would fate issue_lives of successes?
Or would life destroy the sisters with different tresses?  

Sponsor: Jeremy Martain
Contest: Objectify me

Threads of Sand

Small grains of sand come trickling down
Eluding all my reason's understanding
Flyspeck granule , all demanding
Time worn thoughts of days unwinding 

Hourglass, my dark companion
Reminds me of the timeless questions 
I watch sand fall and feel so small
A meager doll, that's all I am
One by one...how can it be
each speck will tick my life away?

I watch them flow.......they slowly slip
right through my hand and fingertips...

Each glimpse, so brief before they fall
Each grain is gone from yesterday
And fleet as rain, that comes today

I turn you up, around you go
Watching sand, is life rewound
Behind the glass the days decline 
Like spindled thread, the time unwinds

Sand dwindles from my life...I see
The spindle turn, what's left of me
Will swirl and twirl, and drift away
To weave with threads of history





__________________________________________________________________
Inspired by Jeremy Martin's Contest: "Objectify Me"  Hourglass/Doll/Spindle

Battlefield

Spindle time as sowing illusions
Drowning in a sea of images
The measures that raise life seconds
Human is the animate doll who conquered the presence

Life from the past back to the present
From the present for the future
Turnover outlined by destiny
Like an hourglass that acts as a reciprocal measure of the time

The limitations are things of beauty
When the end of a round will be on relief
As the satisfied thirst
As the favor of all the sacrifices

Life in all parts come with the name of love
A form that presents a mirage
A perfect fundamental when you touch
It was part of a mortal but drunk when you shed

Small leaps present the flowers of aesthetic
A conclusion atop of provisions that you can reaped
I will not give up in any of those circumstances
My life is still in the front line of this battlefield

**************************************************************
Honorable mention
Objectify me
Sponsor	Jeremy Martin

Spindled Mettle

Spindled Mettle
 
Hour upon hour she sits thoughtfully absorbed
spinning attentively conception’s fibers 
while creating new textures within her mind…

As grain, by grain of living sand, erodes the weaves
exposing gently or tearing the woven seams…
following the hourglass count to maturing age

Set aside are the frivolous dolls of youthful cloths
as situations lead to realities bolder textiles…
some strands chosen, others forced upon life’s spindle  

Her mettle*, though moved by spindled occurrences,
is worn quietly with the era of wisdoms’ mantle
as intertwined events live within her fabric structure


Written by:  Debra Squyres 2/19/13
For: “Objectify Me”


*mettle: spirited determination, mental and emotional character unique to an individual person

Forevermore

Sitting on my front step,
A black mental box awaits me.
Chills run up and down my spine,
Disturbing feelings whirls within.
Ridiculous, it's simply a child's doll
Passed down from a distant relative,
Whom I've never seen.

Taking it out of its coffin like box,
I display it on my overstuffed chair.
Its blue piercing eyes look much to real,
As if it has a will of its own.

With great fear, I put her back in its box,
Tying it with my spindle twisted threads.
Human hair intertwined with wool
Creates stronger more durable yarn.
This I know.

Night after night the doll haunts me in my dreams-
The infinite hour glass evokes my past self.
The doll points to the hour glass and speaks,
"Thy sands are running, thy doom is fixed."
Afraid to the point of mental exhaustion,
I bury the doll in the middle of the night.
Deep down in the ground where her soul belongs.
In the morning the doll sits full of dirt 
on my front step once again.
A scream is heard.



For Jeremy Martin's contest, "Objectify Me "

Spindle, Hourglass, and a Doll

A young woman
Sleeps
Dreams of a spindle
Possibly a magic spindle
So she may spin
Some special threads
To create a lovely sweater
For winter is upon her
And her hourglass says
Time is about up
Her dream will end
And she will awaken
And that darn doll of hers
Will be between her arms
And her body
Watching for the dream keepers
The doll doesn’t like
How they keep her asleep
And not playing with her
The hourglass says
The spindle is gone now…
Replaced by a lollipop
And a donkey
However she wishes to dream
Will be her prerogative
The dreams ends
And she awakens
To find her doll
Smiling at her
Eerily…
She wonders if her dream…
Na there’s no truth in them
It’s just a dream
Nothing more
With that she gets out of bed
And gets ready for her day
When she walks into the kitchen
What did she see
A spindle on the counter
With a note
“Use the hourglass
To return to dream
Then maybe your dreams
Will come true”
With that she left to go to work 

Russell Sivey

Entrant into Jeremy Martin's "Objectify me" contest

2/15/2013

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