Women are very strong and powerful
No one can convince or confuse me
to think otherwise

I think Nature is not very nice to her
When she chooses to not fertilize her eggs,
she goes through pain every month
When she fertilizes her eggs, she has
to deal with changes in her body for
nine months. And then, childbirth pain.

Even the society is not very nice to her
If she's qualified for the job,
give her an equal chance
And pay her what she truly deserves
Also recognize her for her hardwork
But we know that's not how it goes

Against all odds, she still stands strong
Lots of accomplishments in this world wouldn't have been possible without her
Without her, the entire society will fall to the ground

Let's give her the respect and
credit she deserves.

I awoke unhinged, just as the curtain in the back room,
The pale blue reminded me of what the sky could be,
When it didn’t look like gloom.
Single fabric rippled against a windowpane,
Mocking me in my solitude,
Ridicule for my foul mood.
Their twin horrified,
Scrutinising during a manic moment,
Keeping themselves securely tied.
I’m sure they look down on me as well as their sister,
The pair of us once neatly laced, now dishevelled-
Result of a nasty hormone blister.
But their sister and I
Bathe in different consequences,
My being suffers from the inevitable expenses.
I sink, I don’t float.
I seethe, I don’t sway.
I’m real, I’m forced to feel.
The curtain has no eye that aches,
No grease ridden hair, or skin that flakes.
The curtain can easily be pushed back in place,
Unfortunately, with me, that fails to be the case.

Make my bed the mantle and crown
My women studded gems on the eider and down

I'll make rubys and jets and opals my pets
A sticker the slipper that wicker wets

There is a woman,
With heaven underneath her feet.
When I take a glimpse of her eyes,
I forget about the stars.
For the twinkle of her eyes is better than that of stars.
When I gaze at her lips,
I forget about the crimson of roses,
For her lips are far rosier .
When I hear her laugh,
I forget about the nightingale.
For her voice is far too merry.
But do you know who this woman is?
She is Mama the Marvelous.

Girl with rainbows in her eyes and stories in her smile.

All the women hide in the bushes
Fighting and eating the insects
No
They aren’t hungry, but tired.

Every time, they hear the sound of the moving bushes
They look with the hopeful eyes
They are waiting for someone to come inside
And take them to the world outside
Or just promise for a future trip.

But the moment they realise
That a woman used scissors to make her way outside
They all pass looks and heavy sighs.

An empowered woman that looks at you with unbothered recognition;
Like a walking sculpture beyond the measure of imagination and description.

Her mind is filled with wonders, and her heart is a slate;
born to be herself and not to solely procreate
A capable woman that hits like a sweet note
One that is enough to float your melodic boat.

I remember her
in old
photographs

she'd been
daydreaming
all her life
in her under-age
world

spinning
like a top
eternity
in her head
but recklessness
on her tongue

crusading for
******* summers
in Europe
and all that comes
splendidly hither

when laid down
by the embers
in the groves
close to
the congenial sea

I rightly recall
before the page
turning

electric particles
shooting off
as fireworks
in each of her
copper eyes

and how destiny's
curtain fell
with such
suddenness
that morning of
the thin blue line