"ladylike" poems
Oh! There it is!
The blood of my Mothers’
Sins
Blossoming on
My white sheets
Like a bouquet of English roses.
A shame -
Laundry day had
Been yesterday.
My thighs have been painted
Rouge -
They blush
Like my cheeks
When my gaze
Lingers on my body
Too long in the mirror
As I put on my Sunday dress.
The needles in my
Lower back fill my
****** with blood -
I am a woman now -
And as such I must
Wake before the sun
And wash my sheets
And my body
Before anyone has a chance
To smell the iron and the shame
Between my legs.
I have never been so
Acutely aware of my body:
My sore ******* feel like
Overripe tomatoes ready to burst,
My stomach bloated and taking up
Space I’m told is not ladylike -
My head throbs, my limbs ache, and
I continue to shed my insides.
How is it I never noticed
The cry of my body before?
A week of blood
Before I have served my sentence
For a woman
Who dared to disobey -
I clean the stains
And wash myself
Away.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 2:32 AM UTC
To be a woman
Is to be property
To act ladylike
Is to mold into the stereotype
To speak up is unheard of
Just go crawl behind the white man you see in front of you
A glimpse
Of steel is all you see before
The warmth of blood drains every part
Every being you thought to be strong
Now gone
Pick up the pieces
Bandage that wound
We have a war
One that was fought before
Blood on the knife
Stained the suit of the man walking to the congress chair
He holds it up with a smile
And the other men in the house follow
As they add it to the closet of achievements
We are strong
We are not blind to perspective
We see in color
Stitch up the knife wound
Targeted at the abdomen
Property does not fight back
A piece of land does not speak words
The cornfields do not unite
To be a woman
Is to have a voice
One loud enough to be heard over laws
That prohibit natural human rights
Our bodies are not to be tagged by the market vendor down the street
Politicians now playing a game of operation in their makeshift white coats
Forgetting all that we have achieved
Women's bodies are now more dangerous
Than a gun on school property
To have a body
Is to have a choice
To be a woman
Is to bring justice and unity to all
Jun 1, 2020
Jun 1, 2020 at 12:25 PM UTC
"when my body was mine"
a line read recently
did i let my body slip out of my own skin
before i noticed
was i so oblivious as it dripped between their fingers
so far from my skin
when i was told i was old enough to need to shave,
my hair wasn't mine anymore.
when my rough and wild behavior
was no longer considered ladylike enough,
and i had to tame my wild skin
to sit and dance in proper ways,
my posture wasn't mine anymore.
when my toes were deemed to callous for society
my innocent beautiful little toes
were strapped into shoes
and forgot their freedom for a time,
my feet were no longer mine.
when they called out at my body
when it possessively dripped between their fingers
i realized that i had let my body belong to other people
and so i let my hair grow thick
everywhere
and i carry myself with the joy i feel
and i sit and dance from the inside out
trying to forget how much i may stand out
vulnerability is strength
vulnerability is strength
i tell myself
as i dance barefoot with hairy underarms
in out-of-style clothes and an unpainted face
come dance, please come dance,
so we may taste the flavor of life together
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 9:30 AM UTC
Excuse me while I scream
your name
Swallowing syllables the wrong way.
Choking.
Excuse me while I bite my lip and
bruise ******
Nip my tongue.
Break my wrist.
Fighting with soft fists,
fleeing.
Excuse me while I stop, drop,
sit and wait.
Lie low. Ladylike.
The fire's lost sometimes,
deep within my ribs.
Excuse me, it's difficult to dig there.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 8:51 PM UTC
they stained the back deck today (with a hard to match 7 periwinkle)
400 square feet of knotted pine (in a striking rivet sequence)
red ant drivers (who can forget those little ******
caked fir needles & feather cone
bug hologram & cedar moss
graffiti crack & cut joist
wheel rut & pick
pike stain (s)
sow bugs
electric
blower
purple
fueled
washer
missing
foul bits
and two of
its former pins
somewhere near
the erratic 9th stroke the
side kick (and his sloppy dullard)
fell sadly in a cacophony of sick laughter
anxious peckers, poinsettias, grub box, rail stems
lacewings (ladylike in their task), third door down windows
old ergonomic chairs (so highly touted in the checkout isle at Lowes)
all for not, I guess ~ seems they never reviewed the Homestead Manual on Fine Deck Painting ~
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 3:55 PM UTC
I am a female
I am a ****** being
The two are, surprisingly
Not mutually exclusive.
A ***** a **** a *****
As the society might describe it
Are words with the meaning
To keep women submissive.
I may **** who I please
When I please
For whatever reason I so choose.
And it doesn't have a **** thing to do with you.
Heaven forbid I'm not viginistic
When my ring finger is bound
Because viginity is a 'gift'
I mustn't pass it round.
I must walk like a lady
And only **** who I love
But the boys can run freely
Kiss and tell and call me a ****
He's been with eleven girls
And has a girlfriend on the side
I've been with two boys
And not at the same time.
A pat on the back for him
Because he's got all the *******
But social exclusion for me
Because my ****** nature is vicious.
God, I must be a **********
For actually speaking of ***
I'm a woman, we can't do that
But, **** sometimes I forget.
See, I was raised to hold my head high
Without looking up.
I was raised to be ladylike, polite
And wait until I found love.
I was brought up to hold my tongue
I was trained not to take up space
I was taught not to roughhouse about
Or follow the boys' ways.
I was brought up to fear ***
Until I found love or was married
But what the **** is love or a ring
When I can't even get equality?
I was taught that I should be ashamed
If I thought sexually
And I shouldn't even consider trying
************
I was told to hide my body
Because women are to be pure
If I wasn't pristine, who would want me?
I'd be a lonely spinster.
*My body is my own
To do with what I please.
So **** your expectations, Society;*
I will have equality
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 9:03 PM UTC
I hate you when you catcall her
I feel the anger rise, tightly coiled in my stomach
Clench my fists and feel my blood pound,
Because I know what you do to her,
Reducing her to her body, just for your pleasure.
To you she is only a body, just another opportunity to prove
your manliness, your superiority.
Just another girl to humiliate.
I know this and my rage roars, a dragon, untamable
ready to tear into you the second you try it with me.
But then as I walk pass, the voices are silent.
No calls, no whistles,
I don't exist.
The dragon within me becomes confused,
am I really so ugly, so unwanted, so plain,
that the **** on the streets, the ******** who harass girls as they walk,
won't even look at me?
What's wrong with me?
The dragon fades and a new type of hate arises.
I hate myself, my stupid hair, my ******* up jaw, my plain appearance.
I should feel lucky for the blessed silence, the peaceful walk,
but instead I feel a nauseating sense of shame and hate for myself,
As I tuck my head down like a good girl and hurry home,
Trying not to cry.
Society has turned being harassed as a goal to reach for.
Keep telling us "it's a compliment"
And sooner or later we'll start to believe it.
But that doesn't make it true.
So I sit sharping my nails, not sure whose throat to rip out,
Yours? Or mine?
Because you've told me,
It's not ladylike for me to hate anyone,
Except myself.
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 12:32 AM UTC
from time to time
there is a romance of being alone
the imaginations she powdered
generously upon the colorless reality.
metaphors that she sews upon the sleeves
of melancholy.
her girlfriends and she roamed
the ups and downs of the earth,
while their mothers screamed
for them to be ladylike.
saturday afternoons,
they procrastinated upon pastries and honey
crystallized fairy tales
courteous animals
riding on the coattail of dreams
a lighthearted feeling others tried to snooze.
they observe things through glitters of their vapor.
they dote on the humor of ice creams
and sunlight of scarlet pink.
as we laugh with charm,
what a way with words,
a lopsided smile,
a head of curls,
a flock of girls.
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 1:47 PM UTC
it is not very
lady like to leap
and yell with
glee
or to run like
mad
or to touch without asking to
kiss with
fervor.
but do you mind?
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 11:02 PM UTC
I fight for all those little girls in their tiny dresses
To be able to play outside, jump into that puddle of mud, and just love their lives, without being told that they're not ladylike
I fight for all those little boys who cry and aren't conforted, because "real men don't cry".
I want them to express their feelings, instead of becoming convinced that violence should be their only outlet.
I fight for all those little people who look at their bodies, and find they don't match the images in their heads, and automatically think "abnormal"
I want them to see their own beauty
I fight for all those women who are ***** without mercy and silenced when they dare speak up.
I want their strength acknowledged and respected.
I want their abusers destroyed.
I fight for all the people who are taught their bodies are shameful, and not worth celebrating.
I want them to be proud instead.
I fight for all those infants who are opperated on without their consent, in hopes of being made "normal", even at the cost of their health.
I want them to be left untampered with.
I fight for all the people who do not fit into the tiny little boxes society, and are deemed unworthy.
I want them to be celebrated.
You call me an angry feminist, hoping I would find it insulting.
Instead, I thank you. Because fighting for people is what feminism is all about.
If you saw that fighter in me, I can only be proud. It means I am not wasting my time here, like you are.
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 6:00 AM UTC
It came gently,
Like a leaf
undulating
after a gust of wind
breaks it loose.
An ebb and flow
As step by step
it became crystal clear
this long awaited tryst
Would not take place.
Like a delicate leaf
gracefully spiralling
to its resting place,
I took defeat in stride.
head high,
my pride not arrogance,
but an appropriate
Ladylike shield.
You were perfect..gentle
and a man.
That is, after all, why
though dry to the touch
I hold a flame to you still.
You placed me gently
on the bed
where other casualties
of love and fantasy
turn to dust
through time's
compassionate touch.
Yet hope I harbor
in my hardened veins still..
gentle like a hummingbird's heart beat,
pathetic as a defeated gambler,
that this affair will revive itself.
That the let down,
final for now,
Is not forever.
Until then I heave a restful sigh
And bid you well, secret love.
farewell!
farewell fragile, unharnessed dream.
Crunch!
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
For I to cherish soaked in sunbathe dream of freckles on cream and strawberries
For you to see and sigh and fill with warm fizzy pink water too sweet to contemplate
For you to see and sigh and long for long sleeved sheathed in jealousy spilling out in bright red syrup
For I to paint faces with my utterances fanciful making ugly alluring curious mysterious attractive
I can take my nose to be strength clever seducting wicked men and women to listen to my describes or look upon papyrus sheets
I can make my jaw a naive child stricken with blue veins translucent skin clinging papery like wings to brittle bones under eaves ready to snap
I can write my eyes wide innocent in first time headlights first time frosted firsts filled with empty antecedents of unclasped things and fifty fifty longings
I can make the ugly striking like a stinging snake cruel contemplating lashing smarts or make it sad sorrowful quiet longing new to life love mature but still a child
I can add grace poise to my stretched out neck make it stand tall of pride training because it's ladylike to do so and so I must and say my prayers every night too as I powder over my faintly drawn freckles
Boyish humour uncaring to my generous brows a baseball mitt bubblegum cards and a fetish for goths forever unrecognised as spit flies and at home haircuts compose a flyaway life
Embellish the hollows collarbones and detract the too-broad shoulders make the frailty proud and small shrink it down to fit in a girl big brothers to gentle and lovers to rough pinned wrists that near snap
With my words I reap the benefits of my own mindly kindling I wander through half made times in history and finished times two seconds right now
I can create myself and so I do my thirst to be is insatiably insatisfied like my attraction to bad grammar and lilts when you talk so I do I become each and every one
I create myself and it's addicting
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 5:41 PM UTC
You see I am a silent Tao more words count less especially in this letter,
And when you're finished reading it you can laugh at me if it makes you feel any better.
Which is okay with me but what's not is that you all just get to keep on living,
Without me with you during all of your tomorrows so this note is my forgiving;
To my family and friends who have hurt me and treated me wrong...
But maybe no fault of yours but still it hurt and didn't even make me strong.
To all except my daughter who needs no forgiveness from me she's done to me nothing wrong,
Unlike I did to her her whole life but it's like I said...because I'm not very strong.
A coward really! But I'm not gay, a ****** or flamboyant,
It doesn't really matter though anyway I still am a dissapointment.
So I deserve your ridicule I'm no good to others and in my life it has shown,
I don't expect you to except me to forgive me or to even to condone...
This "Pipeline Boy" who in my youth which is how I was raised and I thought it was right,
From behind closed doors was I taught to be feminine and ladylike.
I tried to live my life straight marrying three lovely ladies..."myself" I tried to convert,
I helped to make a little girl (it was my crowning achievement in life) my marriages didn't work.
Attempting to ask for forgiveness I was rushed and sorta fell,
Falling fifty-five feet breaking twenty-one bones and on my way to hell.
Trying to forgive myself in front of God on my way down...
"I'm Still Falling!" were my very last thoughts just before my body hit the ground.
You see I've been treated like a ***** all my life by most these men,
I don't know if it's theirs or mine to own...this unforgivable sin.
So now I partake in the world's oldest profession,
Woman don't do what's done to me being a women's the only way for me to get to Heaven!
So now I am Robin Ashley and hope for as long as I am you'll be my friend,
Because It no longer feels right for me to go around living life just to pretend.
My last name stays the same so she won't feel I abandoned her again,
For she's the only one in this world that I do not want to offend.
So I'll live my life in cognito causing you all no consequence nor strife,
When you're apalled by this letter remember it's not yours-but it's "My" life!
I apologize for posting such an obscene 'b l of distaste,
I'm just so **** tired of living my life with a mask on my face.
I don't know how my family found me here on facebook I guess it really doesn't matter,
My name is now Robin Ashley Latham and its because it makes me less sadder!
Robin Ashley
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 5:45 PM UTC
One button down,
Shoulders back,
"Your shirt's too low."
Too low for what?
One big burp,
Lots of people around
"That wasn't ladylike."
Why do I have to be?
Doing my classwork,
Wondering why I bother,
"So you can get somewhere."
Where?
Word *****
It's exactly what I think.
"Don't be rude."
What if it's the truth?
Hot, passionate lips,
Hands in my shirt,
"Be conservative, reserved."
What way is that to live?
My shirt is gone,
My hand in his pants,
"Don't be a ****
What exactly is that?
One more cigarette,
Sparking lighter.
"Each one kills you more."
Is that meant to be bad?
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 8:57 PM UTC
If you are a woman, stand proud
Because thanks to you,
The human race will continue on.
Stand up strong to the boys
Who, despite this day and age,
Tell you to go make them a sandwich.
I say boys because in my book,
Men view women as equals, as counterparts-
Not lesser, not unqualified, not unable.
If you are a woman,
Be sure to love yourself as you are because
Those beauty standards change on a dime-
Frankly, you're a work of art
From your dimples to your nose,
From your eyes to your knees.
See, make sure you love who you are
Because if you allow a man to love you where your own self-love should be,
You won't be full-
You'll be half empty as you roam around life
Trying to find a man who will love you
When you can't even love yourself.
Frankly, if you're a woman
Pat yourself on your ******* back because
You are a force to be reckoned with.
If you're a woman, stare at yourself in the mirror
And learn to love, support, encourage and believe
In the lovely person staring back at you.
If you're a woman, wear whatever the **** you want-
Dress for yourself, and dress in what
Makes you feel like a million bucks, whether that's a tshirt or a sheath.
Also, if you're a woman, say what you'd like.
If you want to say curse words despite the stigma that it's not "ladylike",
Say the ******* words anyway.
If you're a woman, walk along with
Your head up, your shoulders back, your smile
Blazing a trail ahead of you.
If you're a woman,
Don't forget that other women are your sisters,
Not always your enemies.
If you're a woman,
Celebrate all that entails your gender,
But also remember that your gender does not determine what you can do, say or be. Ever.
And if someone makes the age old remark that
"It's a man's world.",
Kindly remind them that if that were true,
Women wouldn't be astronauts, politicians,
Engineers, authors, bosses, CEOS and so fourth-
No, this is a world in which women continue to thrive just as much as men do.
If you're a woman,
Seriously, best of luck when your period starts.
We all know how much that *****
Even more luck when a guy judges you,
States that you're emotional and irrational
Solely because your body is functioning properly.
If you're a woman, you're already half way
To be one hell of a person.
Now you just have to believe it in its entirety to make it the truth.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 1:01 PM UTC
The greedy little ladybugs
eagerly waited to mourn me,
dying
to don their black spots as veils
meant to cover the raw redness of their bloodlust.
Dying...
and hoping that I would return the favor.
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 11:21 PM UTC
Men with rambling fever
Are born not bred
Their diagnoses are terminal
No cure but to go
And they sell their souls to the devil
For a train to hitch a ride on
And they'll die along the highway
While their women stay home
Remaking beds
That have never been slept in
I slept in this morning
Even though I didn't need to
I stretched my limbs
Out into the ocean
Trying to stay afloat alone in my bed
And through my spyglass
I still couldn't find the edge of it
No body of land to stand solidly on
I concluded that beds must be round
Orbiting microcosms floating through apartments
I got up and didn't tuck the sheets in
I got up and didn't make it
I didn't make it through college
Because as soon as I got settled
Into my air mattress
I un-made it
Everything called my name
I tried to ignore the voices
I tried to avoid them
But the mattress deflated quickly
The sails inflated cleaner than a cloudy day
The maps on my wall needed navigating
I had too much exploring to do
I've read about explorers
Men who made their fortunes
Hunting gold and looting temples
Never returning home
Because the beds they left, they had already met
Men who mapped the oceans
And gave their names to continents
Practically for free
I will freely admit that I'm like them
Unable to stop myself
From risking it all
For a chance at nothing at all
Unable to stay in one place
For long enough
To make my bed and lie in it
I will freely admit that rambling fever
is not ladylike
I will freely admit I'm an
Unsettled woman
I will freely admit
I shed lives and beds with purpose
I shed lives and beds like skin
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 5:52 PM UTC
Be loud and be proud
be quiet and keep to yourself
be upfront and demanding
be reserved and stay together
be beautiful and pretty
be hot and ****
be dainty and quaint
and rock the **** world.
Be you.
Be whoever you are comfortable being.
Don't let them tell you to shut up
don't let them tell you to talk more
don't let them tell you you're a *****
or that you're too nice.
Don't let them tell you you can't be beautiful, pretty, hot and **** **** all at once
because you know what?
You are.
Don't let them tell you to be rougher
don't let them tell you to be ladylike.
You are mother-effing lady
and you get to decide what that means.
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 12:08 AM UTC
Sorry ma'm,
I didn't mean to step on your shoes
Sorry ma'm,
I didn't mean to yell so loud
Sorry ma'm,
I didn't mean to cry so heavy
Sorry ma'm,
I didn't mean to scream out my indiscretions
It wasn't very ladylike
Sorry ma'm,
I didn't mean to open my legs
They should have stayed closed.
Sorry ma'm,
I didn't mean to bring a life
Since mine is unfit for it.
Sorry ma'm,
I didn't mean to look at your man
Even though your lips have touched mine
Sorry ma'm,
I didn't mean to like it,
Sorry ma'm,
That was a lie.
Sorry ma'm,
but I don't give a **** about you
Sorry ma'm,
But I give a **** about you.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 1:38 PM UTC
I am not shy to be a woman.
I am not shy to raise my voice.
I am not shy to own my body.
I am not what others pour their hatred upon me.
Oh! So many hurts and slur comments;
Labels and taglines your pour on a woman who earn their strip.
" Unedited, Raw and Unabashedly"
Take me for who I am.
You think it is not ladylike to sit or pose.
And if you think I care;
I don't owe anyone an explanation.
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 7:27 PM UTC
It’s been considered—
maybe I wasn't meant
to be
what you'd call
“ladylike.”
Sure, the word—
it sounds pleasant enough—
the way it rolls off the tongue
with its pale pink sound
& its clean contours that
kiss the corners of the mouth
just so.
What girl
wouldn't want to be something
that pleasurable
to sound out?
No.
I don’t want to be something
so subtle.
I want to be the word
that's craggy and creased—
the word
that bites so hard
on its speaker's lip,
all other syllables
slip the mind
& they're left
with only mine.
I want to be the word
you remember
weeks later,
& silently repeat to yourself
when you’re alone with your thoughts—
the word
that feels so satisfying to say,
it's unable to be muted.
Yeah.
“Ladylike” won’t hold a candle
to that word
when I happen to find it.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 11:26 AM UTC
Who said you're good enough?
You're not beautiful
Well, maybe, if you just tried
To walk straight
With your hair straight
Always smiling
Stomach tucked in
With your thighs at a safe distance from each other
But not far enough for someone to make their way through
Why were your legs open?
Why was your button open?
Maybe this is why you don't have friends.
You have opinions.
Why are you seeking God anywhere else but
A temple
A mosque
A church?
God says you're beautiful only if He can see you.
Maybe that's why you're not beautiful.
No one is looking at you because you're beautiful.
They look at you because you're a freak,
A circus phenomenon
You're on display
But in all the wrong ways
With your sides hanging
And your back in everyone's faces.
How dare you impose?
Stop being yourself.
**** yourself.
Build yourself up.
But, don't forget to go through the instruction manual.
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 1:39 AM UTC
My mother had a thing about locking me in the bathroom. She’d force an audience out of me to her bearing all to pat benatar through her tears. I buried my ears so deep into that karaoke machine because I swore I could hear her secrets. My ears would bleed so I could feel her pain. As if that could help any. It would keep her sane. In those years I learned it’s not ladylike to look someone in the eyes while they cry.
My mother never told me about emo boys. The kinds that would draw me in by bearing all in screams and strumming strings. I buried my ears so deep into the voices of these, telling secrets I’d again make my ears bleed to feel his pain. As if that could help any. I’d still try. It was a good thing I learned it wasn’t ladylike to look someone in the eyes while you cry.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 5:54 PM UTC