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white caps, near her shore
nothing more--those and voices
in the breaking waves

she alone hears,
as code deciphered,
their scribe, she is

faithful to the crashing
rhythm, in which she reads
the dance of the dead  

countless fishes' swishes,  
harpooned whales’ wailing, myriad men
mourning, as vessels foundered

white caps, waves, sand
symphony she alone hears, sees, smells
and understands as dirge
For Vicki B, though I don't remember why...
“Be gentle.”
The thing about being a woman
is that you are taught to be
gentle
but not how to navigate a world
that will NOT treat you gently.
I’ve spent my life being
Stepped all over
Like a **** doormat.
We’re taught
It’s weak and feminine
To be gentle.
The gentle ones
Are the ones we should truly applaud
For they have found ways
To love
In a world that
Can be
So ugly.
I once hated
How my heart feels
It’s as big as this planet
But I now realize
I can love in ways that
Others can not
And while I may
Have been hurt
Often because of
this, I will embrace it.
It’s a blessing,
Not a curse.


“Don’t raise your voice.”
On Saturday,
my coach told me he could hear me
from where he was standing
and he was feet away.
He meant it as a joke,
I even laughed to hide the hurt.
I’ve been told I’m loud
For most of my life
And everyone always thinks
It’s hilarious to point out
But it’s not.
It ******* hurts.
It gets old being told,
“Lower your voice”
“Be quiet”
“God, you’re so loud”
It’s like a broken record,
One I would like to never
Hear again.
My voice is a loud roar
And it’s powerful.
I won’t apologize
For the way in which
It rings through your ears.
I feel things strongly,
I express it through
My voice.
There is no mute button
And I will be heard.

“You should probably cover up.”
I was 13
The first time I was shamed
For the clothes I wore.
In middle school,
I was stuck in a classroom
With other girls in the school.
Because our shorts were too short.
I felt suffocated.
I wanted to cry.
The walls were bland and gray,
Why me?
There was just no way
I could be in the same space
As a boy
And him be able to control myself
While my legs were out in the open
For him to see.
Like, ****.  
My shirt couldn’t be slouched off my shoulder,
Either.
Because you know that’s what
Really gets boys GOING!
Legs and ******* shoulder blades,
For God’s sake.
We instill these expectations
Into young girl’s minds
Not realizing the damage,
The daggers were throwing
At their little hearts.
I grew older
And I was still being told what to wear.
“Are you sure you should wear that?”
I had to be careful what I wore out
Otherwise a guy may think of it as
Permission to ***** and grab.
I’m not a piece of meat,
I’m not YOUR girl,
I’m not anyone to you
But that doesn’t mean
You shouldn’t respect me
For who I am,
A human being
With feelings.


“Oh, honey… He’s just mean to you because he likes you.”
A boy threw sand at me when I was 7.
It got in my eyes
And all over my new pretty dress.
All I wanted to do was cry but
I was told he did it because he liked me.
We love those who hurt us
Because when we were young
We were told this meant they liked us.
It changes as we grow older,
It’s no longer thrown sand
And playful touches.
It becomes something bigger,
Something scarier than the
Monsters that you thought
Were under your bed.
Loud screams.
Slaps.
Threats.
A black eye here,
A cut there.
You look in the mirror
And you swear you’ve
Never looked more terrible.
A lack of control.
A lack of sleep.
But, but,
He does this
Because he loves me.
Weak and trapped.
You can’t escape
Because he’s all you
Know.
Where do you go?
Love wasn’t supposed to feel like
This.


“She was asking for it.”
She had a bit to drink.
She’s feeling loose and happy.
You complimented her and
Her eyes lit up.
She’s moving closer to you,
Trusting you.
One thing leads to another
And next thing you know,
There you are,
in the bedroom.
She’s not sure if she wants this
But her clothes come off
Quick like a glove.
You’ve got her right where
You want her.
You go with it
Because how could you resist
The twinkle in her eyes
And those thighs?
Things are a bit blurred
For her
And when she realizes what you’ve done,
She’ll feel cheated and robbed
For you stole something so valuable.
Before people
Ask why you did this to her,
They’ll ask what she was wearing
And what she had to drink.
Was her shirt cut low?
Was she drunk?
How unfortunate this is.
Her life will never be
The
Same,
Changed
For…
ever.

I will unapologetically be the woman I am
I will be tough
I will raise my voice
I will wear what makes me love the skin I’m in
I will walk away
I will love myself
I will fight against **** culture
I recently revised this poem, so this is the updated version of my first draft of the poem.
 Oct 2016 Ruman Hafsa
AK93
If you are just a dream
Then that's ok with me
Because if you can't be real
Then how blessed am I to see
Something that wasn't
Ever meant to be
 Oct 2016 Ruman Hafsa
Kem-Ann
in each brewed drink,
your eyes are synced

in every page i scribble,
your words, i remember

as per song i hear,
your voice won't disappear

now tell me boy,
how will i forget

when everywhere i go,
i see you and
your silhouette.

{Kem-ann}
And then he was gone
As suddenly as he came
Stole your heart
Expanded your mind
That smile on your face
It went with him
The warmth he gave
Replaced with winters cold
Your mind in shambles
How and why
The what did I do's
All because
He came in as a tornado
And as the sun set in the western sky
Turning the earth to muted colors
He took your light
Gave you shades of grey
And he was gone
Memories of you
Cannot fill these empty arms
Pride can't keep me warm
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