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GUNI VATS Sep 2020
She sits atop a hill,
the brown stone Goddess

She squats and part her legs,
the yoni splattered with red,

No cloth, no pad, no shame
a wild wild woman untamed,

Her vermilion melts, and drops and paints,
her forehead to her yoni,

The blood feeds earth
melting the hearth,

The red of life,
preserved in a menstrual cup

From the kumkum to bindi to choori to saree,
she a woman deliquescing in red,
A saga of India revering the goddess of *******.
SA Szumloz Aug 2020

a young lady studies her chest in the mirror,
a valley as flat and dry as a parched tongue
she pops her ***** out, hoping for mounts
to rise like baking bread. they never form.

have patience, dearest one.
temples don't ***** in a day.

she observes what lies below the waist,
the Nile river without a taint of blood
she waits for the gore to come, the rose
to grow in her belly. it never arrives.

live and let live, my angel.
nature doesn't rush her work.

she surveys the straightness of her hips,
a tree trunk with no shape whatsoever
she tightens her dress, longing to see the faint
curve of her waist. it doesn't work.

the time will come, my child.
your body will blossom.

like the sunrise.

A poem dedicated to all women and girls out there.
kiran goswami Jul 2020
Misogyny tastes like the sanitary pad that has been used by her,
over and over again.
So it is not stained in blood but
soaked in blood.
SA Szumloz May 2020
I feel the first drop, then the second
Painting my white flowers red
A pain stabs me below the belly
Like a knife so sharp and heavy
One peep sends me off the rails
Driven mad by this cruel spell
Chocolate and sleep keeps me sane
Distracting me from the pain
So, my lovely gentlemen,
When God graciously sends
A baby into your life
Just think twice
About the mothers who're shamed
Because of the blood they waste
So that you can be a daddy.
Paper Heart Poet Apr 2020
My ******
A black hole
******* in
My body
Each month
Painful agony
Undeserved and pointless
Mental and physical
Punishment for women
Carlo C Gomez Apr 2020
the expression of response
in a relentless jade,
conjuring up primevals
risen from her house arrest.
She lives through the days of tension
by her own fortitude,
clutching to her privacy
as if a means of escape
to which she can be locked within.
Mendacious moments,
walking towards a primrose path,
allude her to try and smile.
But she knows she need not pretend,
for just as her hair falls casually
over her face,
she winces her pain
into a controlled tremble.
Proposed to glide under
freshly minted skies,
in words filled with undertone
and in serenades
softly played by calendar
Written back in 1989.
Sparky Mar 2020
Inside my underwear I thought
A red flower had fluttered in,
And stuck itself there like sap.

Inside my underwear I thought
I had spilt a spoon of strawberry jam,
It felt so sticky on my fingers.

Inside my underwear I thought
A crimson blob of sea anemone
Had swum on out of me globosely.

Turns out it was only blood,
Only blood, only blood
I wasn’t even frightened
Even when it started hurting
I’ve always found it pretty
Growing pools of tulips
Inside my underwear.
Eva Mar 2020
You first showed up when I was ten.
I knew who you were but I didn’t want to know you.
I’d read about you in books. Forbidden books.  
How could I explain to my mother that I already knew your name?
I expected you later and I hated you already.

You provided me with the key to a secret club
A place of shame and disgrace.
I wasn’t allowed to talk about you.
A pact of silence between members

Mother said you might make me feel unwell
That was an understatement.
Iron spikes drove through my insides
Steel bars wrapped around me
Spears ****** down my legs.
All I knew was pain
A white-hot, blank-space hurt filling every crevice of my body.

Do you remember that time on the climbing frame with friends?  
I should have been a carefree child but I was dragging a heavy, aching body across the bars.
Or that time I collapsed at school
Head down on the desk, my body could give no more
The school nurse accusing me of faking it.  Telling me you weren’t that bad.  A good friend, really.

Or how about the time you showed up at work.
Made your presence known to everyone
It was described as careless destruction of corporate property
Leaving me humiliated, wages docked to pay for the chair you destroyed.
My inability to control you, a professional failure.
And the other club members offered no sympathy.

You were my constant companion of misery
I didn’t dare attend that party, go on that trip, take that promotion…
You were always waiting around a corner.
And so I withdrew
It became just you and I.  As you wanted.
Defeated. You had won.

Twenty-two years, I suffered in your grip
Twenty-two years of screaming into pillows; body and mind dissolving into agony
But I found a way back.
Suppressed you with chemicals.  I finally discovered me without you.
The person I was supposed to be.

Ten years I have lived without you
Ten years of rebuilding my life, relationships and career.  
I never realised how much control you had
Until that time that I was free.  I emerged.
From a sea of despair. Head now above the deep darkness
I can breathe.
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