She was there—
barefoot in the dust of a thousand battles,
skirt hem soaked in the sweat of fields she did not own.
Her hands, raw from the weight of picket signs and plow handles,
gripped the edges of history,
pulling it toward her like a stubborn thread.
They wrote her out of the story,
but she pressed ink to paper,
pressed footprints into roads where no woman had walked before,
pressed her voice into the air until it cracked open the sky.

She is here—
spine straight under the weight of expectation,
heels clicking against marble floors,
boots sinking into the soil of land she now calls her own.
She stitches wounds with steady hands,
writes laws with the same fingers
that once curled into fists.
She feeds, she builds, she leads—
a quiet rebellion in the way she simply refuses to break.

She will be—
a name carved into the bones of tomorrow,
a shadow stretching past the horizon,
a flame catching on the hem of a new world.
She will stand at the edge of invention,
her hands steady on the wheel of what’s to come,
eyes sharp as a blade against the spine of fate.
She will not ask permission.
She will not wait her turn.

She rises.
She has always risen.
She will rise again.

He said my standards were too high,
But my stepdad would drain a river dry
If I needed a drink.
He said the love I want isn’t real,
But my girls would give me their last meal, If I was hungry for it.
He told me I was too much for men,
But no'one treats me better than my best guy friend.
He said he couldn’t marry a girl like me,
But if that’s how I need to be,
For a man to really love me,
Then I would take never again.

By Abpoetry

That of your own self interest,
getting the weight off your shoulders resulting in some further examination on your part,
Shadow work , watch the wheels turn,
watch em' tumble over rocks and fall apart,
Like soap suds , cleaner modern art,
the chaos ensues, the world is a ruse,
Ya' skin color's already something they'll use  ,against you,
You lean into the tense you,
You wanted love , you wanted someone to Innerstand and learn you.
you had someone , he took ya hand , you gave him things,
he took those things and threw them right back in your face,
Now you want justice for your heart,
You couldn't get it, always lose for winnin'....

The outbursts of angry women,
the most beautiful thing to witness.

We fight to be heard —
Another cycle, that will never end..
It is only a wish to watch the fall of men.

By Abpoetry


Tired of being somebody that goes above and beyond,
Tired of being a pawn,
Tired of the everlasting ignorance I get from women,
I'm in a different arc now , that should be a villain,
Furthermore *** is genuine to you?
Weighing out all the options for your dream guy,
Might hurt you,
Tired of being looked at based on level of attraction,
Or not making transactions,
"Oh he don't got car keys or tattoos, not for the taking",
I been said it,
This generation's cooked for our race in fact,
We'll dead it , this **** is pretty ******* stupid anyway,
Backburners , the only thing women will put me on,
Birdchirpers , they'll say you got your incel turned on,
No apps , no friends , no lies , selflove only prevails.

** Xuan Huong English Translations by Michael R. Burch

** Xuan Huong (1772-1882) was a risqué Vietnamese poetess. Her verse, replete with nods, winks, ****** innuendo and a rich eroticism, was shocking to many readers of her day and will probably remain so to some of ours. Huong has been described as "the candid voice of a liberal female in a male-dominated society." Her output has been called "coy, often ***** lyrics." I would add "suggestive to graphic." More information about this provocative poet follows these modern English translations of her poems.

Ốc Nhồi  ("The Snail")
by ** Xuan Huong
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My parents produced a snail,
Night and day it slithers through slimy grass.
If you love me, remove my shell,
But please don't jiggle my little hole!

The Breadfruit or Jackfruit
by ** Xuan Huong
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My body's like a breadfruit ripening on a tree:
My skin coarse, my pulp thick.
My lord, if you want me, pierce me with your stick,
But please don't squeeze or the sap will sully your fingers!

Bánh trôi nước ("Floating Sweet Dumpling")
by ** Xuan Huong
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My powdered body is white and round.
Now I bob. Now I sink.
The hand that kneads me may be rough,
But my heart at the center remains untouched.

The Cake That Drifts In Water
by ** Xuan Huong
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I was born virginal and beautiful,
Yet my life's been full of struggles.
My fate rests entirely in the hands of the elites.
Yet still I shall keep my heart pure.

Ode to a Paper Fan
by ** Xuan Huong
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

One ring receptive enough for any rod,
Coyly alluring since ancient times…
Your employment is to cool down sweating heroes,
To cover gentlemen’s heads whenever it rains.
Behind the bed-curtain, let’s tenderly ask him:
Panting like a dog in heat, are you satisfied?

***** You!
by ** Xuan Huong
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

***** the rule that makes you share a man!
You slave like maids but without pay.

Unplanned Pregnancy
by ** Xuan Huong
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My yielding resulted in this chaos;
Who can understand my anguish? …
However, this love-load I’ll soon be lugging,
Despite the world’s condemnation
(To have child, without a husband)
Is a an exceptional feat!

The Unfortunate Plight of Women
by ** Xuan Huong
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Hey sisters, do you know?
The baby bawls at your breast
While your husband slides onto your stomach.
Both demanding your attention,
Both endlessly tugging.
All must be put in order.
“Hurry up with the flowers!”
Such are the demands of husbands and children.
Hey sisters, do you know?

Questions for the Moon
by ** Xuan Huong
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

How many eons have you been there,
Endlessly transposing from slender to pregnant? …
Why do you orbit, aloof, the loneliness of night,
yet blush — so pale! — when seen by the sun?
Awake, long past midnight, whom do you seek?
Why so enchanted with hills, rivers and dales?

At the Chinese General's Tomb
by ** Xuan Huong
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I see it there — looming, alone —
the General's tomb, so impressive!
But if I could be reborn, become a man,
with such advantages, couldn't I do better?

Advice to a Lamenting Widow
by ** Xuan Huong
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Why are you wailing, boo-hoo-ing, mourning a man?
Can it sister! Desist! Don't shame yourself!
O my ear sister, I should have warned you:
Don't eat meat, if it makes you ***** blood!

Wasps
by ** Xuan Huong
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Where and why are you wandering, foolish wasps?
Come, your big sister will teach you to compose!
Silly baby wasps suckle from rotting stamens;
***** ewes **** fences when there’s freedom in the gaps.

Lament for Hô Xuân Huong
by Nguyen Emperor Thieu Tri's brother
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Here the lake overflows with lotuses;
Allow the flower girls to gather some,
While not trampling Hô Xuân Huong's grave!
For in the Golden Springs beyond,
She still anguishes over lost love.
Her lipstick desiccate, her rouge faded, her tomb unattended,
Xuân Huong is gone…

Most of Huong's poems were written in Nôm script, a complex Vietnamese adaptation of Chinese characters employed from the 15th to 19th centuries. Through her Nôm poems, Huong helped elevate the status of Vietnamese poetry. A century later, she was called "the Queen of Nôm poetry" by Xuan Dieu, one of Vietnam’s greatest poets.

Huong was more than a mere penner of ****** verse; she was an "outspoken proto-feminist: an irreverent wild card bringing a new voice to Vietnamese poetry while marking out a bolder trail for what it means to be a woman."

"** Xuan Huong is an improbable figure in Vietnamese literature. Vietnamese historians are virtually unanimous in acclaiming her as the 'most special ' poetry writer who ever lived in Vietnam. … She wrote poetry which, for all its playfulness, may have been the darkest assault upon Confucian ethics ever delivered by a literate scholar of a classical East Asian society. Most modern Vietnamese writers agree that she often went too far, to the point where her contemporaries regarded her as a 'monster ' whose influence should be obliterated. — Alexander Woodside, Vietnam and the Chinese Model

Confucian ethics decreed that a female should obey: first her father, then her husband, then her son after her husband’s death.

Huong was apparently born in the Quynh Luu district of the north-central province of Nghe An. Xuan Huong means "Spring Fragrance," "Spring Essence," or "Scent of Springtime." Her father, a scholar named ** Phi Dien, died young. Her mother remarried, as a concubine. Huong grew up near Thang Long (modern Ha Noi), in a male-dominated society in which polygamy was permitted and men were more privileged than women. Huong may or may not have been a concubine herself. Very little is known with any certainty about her life.

In 1962, Nguyễn Đức Bính admitted, "I don't know anything about the poetess Hồ Xuân Hương and other people don't know any more than I do." And yet legends do take on lives of their own!

Keywords/Tags: ** Xuan Huong, Vietnamese, English translations, snail, grass, shell, hole, breadfruit, jackfruit, tree, skin, hands, sap, stain, dumpling, body, powder, powdered, sink, bob, swim, pond, heart, center, red, nom script, spring fragrance, spring essence, concubine

twin just pop up,
In my life , I want you to just pop up,
you reflect in women that don't like us,
you reflect in women that don't like us,
Resort to lesbianism because they hurt,
But soon find out that women lie too,
what has a god done to you?
I use my words to grow these flowers in vowels to
Show case them in front of people that don't allow us
freedom of speech cause they cowards,
I used them now to bring love back to the black community.
☯️full poem in link below c/p

©abpoetry2025

Every bill passed
Every law enforced
And every punished person
And every broken door
Every wall built
Every motion managed
And every battered woman
And every mind damaged
Every code of conduct
Every regulation
And every callous worker
And every police station
Every constitution
Every consequence
And every carried hate crime
And every document
Every proclamation
Every orange dictator
And every child taken
And every righteous debater
All of them have suffered
All of them are dead
And all of them are falling
And all of them have bled

Her heart is clean
It's white
Like rabbit
It's clear
From bad habits
She is the Lily
Of this filthy Valley.

If her heart
Dared to get a bit
Of filth anyway
She would be shammed
She might as well wither away
The world is no place
For a perfect white lily
Why should we judge
All humans are silly
Even the purest girl out there
Can make mistakes.