Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Fanm, fanm, o fanm rapadou
Boubout mwen, bèsom, kòmansmanm
Nan kaye jounalye mwen chak jou
Chak jou se pou ou, se jou pa ou
Ou se nanm mwen, poto pitanmm
Mwen renmen ou chak jou
Chouchoum, mwen renmen ou.

Bèl fanm, bèl cheri, bèl bote
Ou nan kèm tout la jounen
Ou okipe nan nan lavi mwen
Ou se Princess mwen, gran Majeste
Ou se larenn mwen, yon gran sous
Fanm, fanm, o fanm dous
Oksijèn mwen, bèl dam mwen.

Fanm, fanm, kinanm mwen
Etwal nan syèl, lalin lavi mwen
Ou se yon poupe orijinal, bèl fanm
Ou se moun ki konn naje, e rame nan lanm
Ou se yon fanm ki byen akonpli nan la Bib
Fanm, fanm, o fanm sansib
Ou se solèy kap klere palmis mwen an.


Wi ou se yon fanm natal fondamantal
Anj gadyen mwen, sent vyèj mwen, ala ou bèl
Lavi pagen oken sans san ou, chouchou
Ou se trezòm, fanm, fanm, espwa mwen
Ou se kèm, rèv mwen, nanm mwen
Fanm, fanm misterye, mwen damou ou.

P.S. Tradiksyon 'Joyous Women's Day'
Ki ekri Pa Hébert Logerie
Copyright © Mas 2019, Hébert Logerie, Tout dwa rezève
Hébert Logerie se otè plizyè liv pwezi.
Paradoxical
problem-causer
Mirror of her own
pain

That mask of being so
elite
Protects her battered heart from
break

Broken girl
doomed
to become the very monster
that kills her
A close friend of mine is a narcissist. It's exhausting to deal with, and I've wished I could be brave enough to tell her I don't want to be her friend for years.

But I've realized it isn't about being brave. It's about being kind. I am one of the only people who cares enough about her to see beneath the mask, and I see pain so similar to my own it hurts. Trauma like this causes all sorts of anomalies. I suppose I'm lucky my own is one that cares for me and protects me, instead of just projecting a destructive image of perfection.

Friendly reminder to be patient with the person that you saw in your head when you read this: you never know what they may going through. Try to look past the irritation and empathize if you can
Faith Cubitt Mar 13
It's a shame really.... how much paper I've wasted on you.
how many time's I've sat in my room in the late hours of the night replaying everything you did to me.... everything we did to each other.
how I bleed on paper, pouring out the deepest corners of my soul to the only thing that will listen.
still it is a shame how I continue to waste words, paper and ink on you.... how I manifest great sentences to describe how you hurt me.
you don't deserve them, you truly don't deserve anything I've given you, but even after your gone I still manage to sacrifice pieces of myself for you.
I'll sit and waste hour's on something that's supposed to be beautiful.... but you made painful.  
I guess in a way, I hold a pen like you never held me....
And I can't even say you didn't mean for it to end this way....
What is it like
To be you
When they fall over
But you can't hold on

You play it cool
As you strum your guitar
And music fills the room
And that's why I'll always
Look up to you

What is it like
To take a step in your shoes
But there's too much to fill
When they are two sizes too big

Trapped in our own worlds
That we can't escape
Wondering what fate decides
But everyone knows
That curiosity killed the cat

What is it like
When you look at me
Who am I to you
Did you ever think of me as a friend?
Originally, me and this person were going to do an art trade, but for some reason that didn't end up happening, and instead I asked if I could write something instead. For some reason the end paragraph makes it seem kind of romantic, and wow that was not my intent at all. I still haven't received my piece of art though haha
I need to leave here
It's too intoxicating
It's too distracting
I come here too often

Everyone who became
A big part of my life
Has left
Except for you
You're still here

But why?

We linger on in this world
Of dreams
I waited for your words

I checked
And I checked again
This empty feeling
Here is where it began



Searching for purpose
Waiting for someone to realize
That I'm here
I've been watching

When you are excited
And when you cry
I want to talk
But I don't know how or why

We used to be so close
The world
So lively to me
Even though your face was never seen

You meant the world to me
You were always on my mind
But now you are gone
I don't know
If it's even worth it to try

In the past I reached out
With only a simple response
In return
Because before
You were a friend
Who I could count on till the end

But now I wonder
Do you remember me?
Do you know that I am still here
Longing for you to speak
To me
Late at night
Or in the day
I don't care
If it's lighthearted or deep
You were the last one left
But then you turned away

It's not your fault
Our lives moved on
It's different no
Perhaps I'm the one
In the wrong

So I say goodbye
With little grace
Because I still see you
And even if you don't find me
I will always find you
Cant tell if this is a poem or a vent
Melanie Feb 25
I would rather be your friend, I think
Than nothing at all
but perhaps ceasing to exist
to one another is better
You walked through life with strength and grace,
A shining light in every space
Your smile, a beacon in the dark,
Left an imprint, a lasting mark

Though time has taken you from here,
Your memory lingers, crystal clear
In every play of "Favoured Soul",
Your voice resounds like Madridistas shouting, "Goal"

Clement, though you are gone,
Your presence lives, it lingers on
In every laugh, in every tear,
You are still hear, forever near
In memory of Naabil Yinpang Clement, a friend lost to the icy hands of death. It's an honour to have him give his voice to one of my favourite poems, "Favoured Soul."
Just as stated in the piece, he may be gone but his voice still plays on and reminds us of him as on audiomack:
https://audiomack.com/wise-afun/song/favoured-soul?share-user-id=23331300
bellamy Feb 22
I would love to say our friendship is inherent. To say that our hearts beat to
the same pulse, that we have the blood inside us in common, and that our
words blend into each other perfectly seems like the right thing to say.
However, I would be lying. I have to fight and beg my emotions to reveal
themselves to you.
Trying to write about us feels like drawing water from a frozen well.
Miscommunications happen often and it's difficult to tell what you're
thinking.
But still, we are us anyways.
The water in the lake we grew up around knows our lives well. If its pebbles
and sand could speak, they would recite our every word back to us better
than we could.
The moon knows how much I care about you because I tell her often. She
shines brightly at our stories.
Even when I don't understand you, my mind pleads to.
My hands write the words I can't tell you, and the world of poetry knows
how desperate I am for you to know these things.  
My art glows with my expressions of you. It tells visual stories I have never
spoken.
We are not inherent. I have never been able to tell you exactly how much I
care about you. I am terrified of confrontation and disagreements, so I don't
always say exactly what I think.
But I'll always try my hardest to show how I feel. You may never read these
words, but I hope you somehow feel them anyways.
Cynthia Feb 22
Our last day together, we’ll sit
at the edge of your car,
right above the hood,
overlooking the night sky in the empty
Walmart parking lot.

You don’t know it,
but a year from now, we’ll be torn apart.
We might not see each other again—
not even at all.

But that same night, we’ll recall
old memories from the past,
lingering in our minds
for the longest time.

We’ll laugh at the time we both got
in trouble for breaking the clock.
We’ll smile at the time
we tried to cook
but ended up burning the food.
We might cry the moment
we have to say goodbye.

Just know, every moment since birth…
it has always been you.
I know how much you cared…
just know I did too,
even if I didn’t show it as much as you.

From the moment I took my first breath
to the day I’ll take my last…
you were always my twin at heart,
not just in mind.

Love you,
in every universe
and in all
timelines.

I hope distance doesn’t make us strangers,
but if it does,
I’ll be happy with the fact
I once got to know YOU.
Even if it was for a limited time.
Short story about when me and my twin brother have to depart to college
Mica Wood Feb 18
Quiet your mind and you may find
peace in such stillness.
Your life feels like chaos when
the music drowns out any possibility of
silence inside.
How can you even think with lyrics of
mesmerizing dandelions
clanging through your consciousness?
From the left and right
distractions dissect your attention.
Why is it so hard
to turn off the music?
Silence is scary—
a frightening thing to befriend.
Some fear the dark, yet
you fear the quiet.
I wrote this with music at full blast
Next page