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Zywa Apr 2021
The perfect woman

is from marble, and barefoot –


she stays where she is.
“Edge” (1963, Sylvia Plath)

Collection "Actively Passive"
Zywa Apr 2021
Peep at my figure,

with the wind wild in my hair –


I'm fearlessly free.
Collection "Ifless"
Mark Wanless Apr 2021
beautiful woman
revolver pick up truck beer
on ice a real sight
M R White Apr 2021
What do you hear of me?
What rumors slip from others’ lips?
They speak of me, evil mistress, eyes that pull in, and a body that gets caught in your windpipe.
You are unable to swallow me. You chew on me and hastily spit me out. You choke on me.  
The wit I possess is too quick for your bruteness. You dismiss my thoughts.
I am just a woman, nothing less, and nothing more.
Bore to serve you and bear your seed.
What do you hear of me? What slips from others’ lips?
Am I a murderous harlot? A bitter witch with nothing better to do.
Do serpents sit atop my brow, shall I turn you to stone?
Am I Charybdis, shall I swallow you whole?
They are unable to chop me up into bit sized pieces. For some reason, they do not love me as a collective.
What do you hear regarding the treatment of me?
You only hear yourselves, deafening my point of view.
I hear I have scorned every one of you. Do you hear of who scorned me?
Have you ever questioned what may have made me this way?
What makes a mistress so vile?
The mistreatment of a loving deity can mangle many.
I was hanged on a hook, a piece of meat left to rot.
I was once pure and heavenly.
I will ask once more,
What have you heard of me?
What tales have slipped from others’ lips?
Have you stopped to think what created me to be so evil?
I am the evil mistress. I will chew you up and I will eagerly swallow you in all your whole.
I know my motive. What is yours?
ENGLISH PROJECT, STUDYING GILGAMESH
Brittany Ann Apr 2021
I am not a flower.

I do not bloom just by the glorious

rays of sunshine in the spring.

I am not obliterated

by just the mere changing

of the seasons to the next.

I do not wither away when my

world starts to darken

and bitter coldness swallows up

the warmth of the sun.

I am not this fragile thing,

or delicate,

to the winter's icy storms.

The falling of dead, dull leaves

to the Earth beneath my feet

will not be the burial

to my very life source.

No.

You can not reborn something

that had never been destroyed.

I am not a flower.

I am a survivor-

in the light and in the dark.
Zywa Apr 2021
The free field, the blowing
of my hair, the waving
and flowing of the grass

Only obey myself
No water surface, nothing
shines but your eyes

to make me feel beautiful
I despise seducing
in see-through clothes

I spit on being beautiful
to be counted
I disgust being beautiful

and therefore not be counted
I too walk the world!
I too do a lot of work there!

I too oversee what happens
I too know the people
and I talk wisely with you
Āïsha **** Abī Bakr (in year 627)

Collection "From Sacred Scriptures"
S(he)never says anything,
Takes all the insults on her chin.
When asked,
S(he)says,
I am fine.
Strength is s(he),
S(he) is strength.
Khoisan Apr 2021
Fenced in
a pig in a pen
he remembered her
black eyes
couldn't take flight
he still cries
justice was served
a brave woman
never lies.
callie Apr 2021
i’m not yours.
i never have been
and for the life of me
i can’t figure out why you thought i was.

was it the way i dressed,
the way i acted,
or simply the look in my eyes?

or was it the things I can’t control,
the curves i grew and
the ******* i had no choice but
to have?

i never wanted this.
i never asked for this.
i don’t want your attention
or your wandering hands.

i want to be free to do what i’d like
just to be,
to just
let myself go.

but i can’t.
all because of a stupid little thing
that should be little
but is seen as big

why did i have to be a woman?

instead of living carefree
i have to be careful.

keep the legs always crossed
wear shirts up to your neck
be respectful
(but not too respectful,
lest they believe
you’re asking them for
something)

but even if
you follow all the rules
they don’t care.

your very body is an invitation.

because what is ****** autonomy
in a male dominated world?

spoiler alert: there isn’t any.
Amanda Hawk Apr 2021
The night clung to me
Like a cold sweat
Pressing my dress
Against my skin
Until the dampness of my panic
Ran with my mascara
I nestled my keys between my fingers
Makeshift Freddy Krueger
Lashing out at shadows
As they slinked around my feet
Fear sliding slowly along my face
And wiped it away quickly
So I could forget
I was alone
In the middle of the city
At night
Leering glares and catcalls
Loitered doorways
Tugging at my sleeves
Twisting their claws in my hair
Offering up glasses overflowing
In broken promises
And blatant lies
As I tried to rush by
Looking for a vacant streetlights
To hover, fluttering near with paper wings
So I could forget
I was woman alone
In the middle of the city
At night
30/30 Day 3
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