"audre" poems - Hello Poetry

I cannot recall you gentle yet through your heavy love I have become an image of your once delicate flesh split with deceitful longings. When strangers come and compliment me your aged spirit takes a bow jingling with pride but once you hid that secret in the center of furies hanging me with deep ******* and wiry hair with your own split flesh and long suffering eyes buried in myths of little worth. But I have peeled away your anger down to the core of love and look mother I Am a dark temple where your true spirit rises beautiful and tough as chestnut stanchion against your nightmare of weakness and if eyes conceal a squadron of conflicting rebellions I learned from you to define myself through your denials audre lorde

0

Apr 28, 2018

Apr 28, 2018 at 8:33 PM UTC

stephanie_saint

Black Mother Woman

I cannot recall you gentle yet through your heavy love I have become an image of your once delicate flesh split with deceitful longings. When strangers come and compliment me your aged spirit takes a bow jingling with pride but once you hid that secret in the center of furies hanging me with deep ******* and wiry hair with your own split flesh and long suffering eyes buried in myths of little worth. But I have peeled away your anger down to the core of love and look mother I Am a dark temple where your true spirit rises beautiful and tough as chestnut stanchion against your nightmare of weakness and if eyes conceal a squadron of conflicting rebellions I learned from you to define myself through your denials audre lorde

29

The world is full of shade and prose And I don’t know what to do anymore Audre Lorde said “silence will not protect you” But I been weaving my silences into a survivor’s quilt Because I’m tired of surviving And I’m cold and want to use it as my blanket Out there in that cold *** world The world is full of shade and prose *** workers on boulder highway Wanna be poets writing in spanglish White privilege, patriarchy and all I kinda wish I’d write songs instead of poems You know, songs about love But no Cuz the world is full of shade and prose Bus stops/stop and frisk Judgment day enthusiasts/Holocaust deniers I am tired of “it happened before I was born” And “I feel guilty but I did not ask to be privileged” And when I say: Then do something They ask me “what?” I reply: NO The world is full of shade and prose The chicken never made it across the street There is so much deconstruction And so little relief We will soon end up homeless And will have to pawn the master’s tools Or maybe just sell them at the swapmeet For a dollar or two I mean who cares as long as we’re in love If at the end The world is full of shade and prose.

0

Jan 30, 2014

Jan 30, 2014 at 5:14 AM UTC

xuanito-de-la-puente

shade and prose

The world is full of shade and prose And I don’t know what to do anymore Audre Lorde said “silence will not protect you” But I been weaving my silences into a survivor’s quilt Because I’m tired of surviving And I’m cold and want to use it as my blanket Out there in that cold *** world The world is full of shade and prose *** workers on boulder highway Wanna be poets writing in spanglish White privilege, patriarchy and all I kinda wish I’d write songs instead of poems You know, songs about love But no Cuz the world is full of shade and prose Bus stops/stop and frisk Judgment day enthusiasts/Holocaust deniers I am tired of “it happened before I was born” And “I feel guilty but I did not ask to be privileged” And when I say: Then do something They ask me “what?” I reply: NO The world is full of shade and prose The chicken never made it across the street There is so much deconstruction And so little relief We will soon end up homeless And will have to pawn the master’s tools Or maybe just sell them at the swapmeet For a dollar or two I mean who cares as long as we’re in love If at the end The world is full of shade and prose.

33

Give me fire and I will sing you morning Finding you heart And a birth of fruit For you, a flame that will stay beauty Song will take us by the hand And lead us back to light. Give me fire and I will sing you evening Asking you water And a quick breath No farewell winds like a willow switch Against my body In a dark room. audre lorde.

0

Aug 3, 2017

Aug 3, 2017 at 2:18 AM UTC

stephanie_saint

A Lover's Song

Give me fire and I will sing you morning Finding you heart And a birth of fruit For you, a flame that will stay beauty Song will take us by the hand And lead us back to light. Give me fire and I will sing you evening Asking you water And a quick breath No farewell winds like a willow switch Against my body In a dark room. audre lorde.

13

"Poetry is not a luxury... Through poetry we give name to those ideas which are until the poem nameless and formless." by Audre Lorde

0

Oct 9, 2023

Oct 9, 2023 at 4:27 AM UTC

irinia

poetry

"Poetry is not a luxury... Through poetry we give name to those ideas which are until the poem nameless and formless." by Audre Lorde

2

This is a poem for nobody’s eyes About my students my flowering black and brown baby girls more bud than human, saying all singsong how black is ugly ugly ugly holding their arms up to one another, comparing hues About the instant I realized I loved women too and sagged hard against my bedroom door while dread and hope danced a strange dance in the pit of my gut About the college kids I see in class everyday popping Aspirin and Xanax and the pill with their headphones and angry publicness and **** off **** you **** this and notebooks and pens and soft privateness and I love you I need you I need you About the boy I couldn’t speak to for years without feeling sick or small or unrequited About Audre, Toni, and Maya teaching me how to start revolutions with a word About how I dream again and again of kissing the girl I am in love with and sometimes we are the in the dark and sometimes we are laughing and sometimes I am moving breathless into the room saying I have never loved you more than I do at this moment and lips are on lips are on lips About how I can’t look at this one pink nightgown because I was wearing it when my father said he was cheating and too many tears fell on those tiny satin cherries About Holden Caufield and that ******* merry-go-round About a crazy, unquiet and utterly illuminated self Me, spoken yet unspoken

0

Sep 26, 2015

Sep 26, 2015 at 8:35 PM UTC

claire-mcculley

Poem for Nobody's Eyes

This is a poem for nobody’s eyes About my students my flowering black and brown baby girls more bud than human, saying all singsong how black is ugly ugly ugly holding their arms up to one another, comparing hues About the instant I realized I loved women too and sagged hard against my bedroom door while dread and hope danced a strange dance in the pit of my gut About the college kids I see in class everyday popping Aspirin and Xanax and the pill with their headphones and angry publicness and **** off **** you **** this and notebooks and pens and soft privateness and I love you I need you I need you About the boy I couldn’t speak to for years without feeling sick or small or unrequited About Audre, Toni, and Maya teaching me how to start revolutions with a word About how I dream again and again of kissing the girl I am in love with and sometimes we are the in the dark and sometimes we are laughing and sometimes I am moving breathless into the room saying I have never loved you more than I do at this moment and lips are on lips are on lips About how I can’t look at this one pink nightgown because I was wearing it when my father said he was cheating and too many tears fell on those tiny satin cherries About Holden Caufield and that ******* merry-go-round About a crazy, unquiet and utterly illuminated self Me, spoken yet unspoken

42

Each day that passes, I am more proud to be a woman. I witness the sexism I face in the most basic of conversations but women I aspire to be more like motivate me, remind me We hold so much power. I may not have marched with Angela Davis or Audre Lorde, But a girl asked if I thought she was pretty today. As I applied man made make up to her face so maybe just maybe someone would notice her like I did, I thought of how this response could change her outlook. "Yes. Do you like your hair and make up?" "Yes. Do you like it?" "I think you're perfect." See in that moment no man could tell me that it's easy being a woman or that I'm too uptight or take my job too seriously because these girls look up to me. Knocking on my door for whatever reason because they trust me. They listen when I'm stern and embrace my humor. As a woman I am able to tell girls they are beautiful as they look at me as inspiration. Moments like this I am Audre or Angela simply because I am making a difference, shaping young women. I hold so much power.

0

Jun 29, 2014

Jun 29, 2014 at 1:02 AM UTC

alexandria-rae-mason

Untitled

Each day that passes, I am more proud to be a woman. I witness the sexism I face in the most basic of conversations but women I aspire to be more like motivate me, remind me We hold so much power. I may not have marched with Angela Davis or Audre Lorde, But a girl asked if I thought she was pretty today. As I applied man made make up to her face so maybe just maybe someone would notice her like I did, I thought of how this response could change her outlook. "Yes. Do you like your hair and make up?" "Yes. Do you like it?" "I think you're perfect." See in that moment no man could tell me that it's easy being a woman or that I'm too uptight or take my job too seriously because these girls look up to me. Knocking on my door for whatever reason because they trust me. They listen when I'm stern and embrace my humor. As a woman I am able to tell girls they are beautiful as they look at me as inspiration. Moments like this I am Audre or Angela simply because I am making a difference, shaping young women. I hold so much power.

11

"At this point in time, I believe that women carry within ourselves the possibility for fusion of these two approaches as keystone for survival, and we come closest to this combination in our poetry. I speak here of poetry as the revelation or distillation of experience, not the sterile word play that, too often, the white fathers distorted the word poetry to mean — in order to cover their desperate wish for imagination without insight."

0

Apr 11, 2021

Apr 11, 2021 at 10:25 PM UTC

fae

Audre Lorde - Poetry is Not a Luxury

"At this point in time, I believe that women carry within ourselves the possibility for fusion of these two approaches as keystone for survival, and we come closest to this combination in our poetry. I speak here of poetry as the revelation or distillation of experience, not the sterile word play that, too often, the white fathers distorted the word poetry to mean — in order to cover their desperate wish for imagination without insight."

1