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Nabs Dec 2015
By Nabs

    When I was little, I dreamed of being a princess.
Just like so many others do.

Imagining all the fun we will have.
Of Tea times and dressing in the finest dresses, wearing tiaras, and jewels,
      all day of the week.
              Princesses only seems to dress prettily in the stories.
                
We all dreamt of the same thing,
        Happy endings that always come at the end, cherished and pampered.

        Most of all loved by everyone.

  Princesses were always loved because she was inherently kind. Inherently docile.
Inherently pure and innocent.
              Inherently beautiful.

( Remember, Your purity is your worth)
                  
                            None of them was because
                                  people respected them.

All of them was because
Of their beauty.

      ( A princess have to pamper their self to utmost perfection, your beauty define your worth)

Princess is a symbol of perfection.
                                      Symbol of Divinity.

A guideline for Goodness and womanhood.
                Standards that shaped and pushed them self to little girls to be molded into a perfect piece of art that they them self would rarely get to enjoy.

( Art pieces, after all cannot admire them self)
    
                We have to strive for divinity and no less, because less means
        we will be condemned to be the wicked ones.

( No one bother to tell us that it is unreachable.)

        No one wanted to be the wicked ones because history burned who ever were branded as wicked.

      ( we stood on a world
piled with their ashes
          and everyone will claim it as a victory)

        One of the lesson, that these tale seems to croons that there is no in between for us.
        That there is only two archetypes for girls to grow up to.
The Princess or the Evil Witch.

Choose, the tale seems to shout.
            ( be obedient, be submissive).
                    (Good girls)
                ( Princess lives happily ever after).

(Fight, rebel, speak)
        (Bad girls)
  ( Evil witch will always be burned)
      
  ( This are the endings we have set for you, girls)

          Back then, after going home from school, I would read tales about princesses from all over the world.  
From Africa
                to Europe
                              to Asia.
      I devoured them like they were gospels, Laughing delightedly when the princes save the day then marries the princess, and frowning when the villain managed to defeat the heroes.
Happy endings,
      Happy endings.
( Death, is the only happy ending we will really get)

    I learned that to have a happy ending, a prince need to save me,
                from my self.

( Every princesses need a prince,
for a proper princess cannot save herself.
                
            You need to be saved to be complete)

      My parents called me their little darling princess, Their crown jewel,
              Their most cherished treasure.
They would hug me, clothed me, spun me into a figurine that they like.
Telling me that I am theirs.
Flesh and blood,
              Glittering orbs of red.
                                          Ownership.
Another princess tales, which plot echoes through out time. Beggars can't be choosers.
                              The same way a princess can't  choose anything for them self.

The tale said,
    A good daughter is an obedient daughter.

Shouting and screaming is prohibited.

( Lower your voice,
        princesses don't raise their voice.

They speak softly as soft as the flutter of butterfly wings

            or preferably they don't speak at all.)

      To be a princess, foremost is to sacrifice your whole being,
      To subdued your self
          To stop being human,
                and start being a treasure, a jewel.
Being fought over for the rights of possession.

( Isn't that the most highest pedestal you can put someone to?)

        As I grew up, these tales keep following me.

( Dont run, princesses never run.
                                    They submit.)
Of Snow white,
      Who was treated as if she was only an object of desire after the prince saw her dead in the glass coffins.
( You're mine, you got that?)

Of the sleeping beauty silence,
            that was taken as a consent to ravished her until she woke up because she gave birth to twins.
( Babe, you like this don't you? You have to, you're made for this)

Of the little mermaid plight,
      Discarding herself completely to be accepted on the lands, trading her voice and being in excruciating pain for her prince.
                        The one who will not love her.
( You look horrible in that, change into something prettier and for god sake, put some make up on)

Of Atalanta, who could not escape marriage
              and forced to marry a man she lost a race  unfairly to, because her father decrees so in the first place.
( My princess, you can't be with that person.  
                    They're not suited for you,
                              We want the best for you.
You don't know what's best for you. )
              
Of Bawang Putih and Bawang Merah,
                Echoing the morals, how your beauty define you, how you will be evil if you are less than beautiful.
( She's ugly, that's why she's jealous of her)

Of Putri Hijau ending,
            That to be free from being under the power of men, you have to jump into the ocean.
(You are mine, forever)

Of the archetypes for Good and Evil,
            ****, *****,
                      *****, Saint,
                              Witch, Princess.
( A good girl says yes, A bad girl say no)

How The Tales, often than not,
                          parallel each others, as if trying to drill them self into our subconsciousness with these toxic message.

( Princesses belongs to the people.
                      She never belongs to herself. )

These unspoken rules followed me into adulthood.

            Subconscious message of how to be  loved you need to be less.
You need to submit,
to be obedient,
docile,
pure,
innocent,
        most of all, you need to be beautiful.

      That beauty is how you're going to get your prince. Never it is because your wit, your courage, your wisdom,
what use do you have for them if you don't have a pretty face.

                No husband will find ever find you.

( Remember, wicked ones doesn't have a prince to set them straight.

                You don't want to be a wicked one,
                                                  Now do you?

So spread your legs, and lay down.
Take it. Atta girl!  )

These unreachable standards, bound us the same way they bound people feet to be dainty.
                They are rules for us to be less human, to be a thing.
      A princess, in this world is another term for a possession.

            (There is no such things as an independent princess, object need owners)

The stories always put them in gilded cages.

Once I asked why?
          Why do they need to be caged?
Why can't they be free?
        
The tales said that beautiful things needed somewhere to be kept.

The tales said many thing,
        seemingly innocent but  screaming about our worth, girls worth in the society.

(You need to be pretty for anyone to love you.)

(You're good if you are obedient.)

(You have no need for your voice,
                Silence is the only voice you need.)

(You're made to just lay down and take it.)

(You need a man to complete you
                                      and set you straight.)

(Never be yourself.)

I grew up wanting to be a princess,
Just like many others do.
        What we realized, to be a princess
                                  We have to be a slave.
                                      We have to be dead.
This was inspired by lots of books and articles I read.
Sorry for the cliche title, and thank you for reading the long poem.
Aridea P Feb 2015
Ya Tuhan
Berikanlah aku jodoh seperti Ayahku
Yang mencintaiku meskipun tahu putrinya banyak kekurangan
Yang selalu mendoakan yang terbaik dan tak mengijinkan hati putrinya terluka

Ya Tuhan
Ijinkan aku memilih pasangan seumur hidupku, yaitu seperti Ayahku
Yang tak pernah melukai hatiku dan memanjakanku bagai Putri

Ya Tuhan
Pertemukanlah aku dengan jodohku yang seperti Ayahku
Yang akan melindungiku dari bahaya apapun
Yang takkan melukaiku dengan ucapan kasar

Ya Tuhan
Aku membutuhkannya sekarang
Jaanam Jaswani Jan 2015
I blame myself for distasteful stupidity;
This inability to conceptualise my sentiment.
I'm magnetic to your waffled fingers, and you're blind
To palpability.

Your purity pours into me like a purgation I've never known;
A thousand sins, each recognised, loved.
How many words have we swapped?

I pine, boy, and ponder upon the postulates you follow
To place a seed into my soul.
Must I really bury my affections for you?

*Saya ingin berdiri sebelah kamu, sebagai putri raja kamu.
Bella Ayu Apr 2019
Nama saya perempuan, begitu kata dokter, ulama, pendeta, ayah juga ibu.
Nama saya perempuan, maka dari itu sejak kecil saya diajari memasak, mencuci piring, menyapu dan bertingkah lembut gemulai. Sebab katanya perempuan yang tak apik hanya menjadi barang tidak berguna atau orang-orang biasa menyebutnya dengan rongsokan!
Mereka ogah, saya pun tersingkir.
Nama saya perempuan, sebab saya di dandani bak putri raja, rambut saya dipelihara agar indah menggoda seperti putri-putri raja dalam buku dongeng.
Nama saya perempuan, karena itu ia membutuhkan sanggahan lelaki yang akan membuatnya tegak berdiri.
Tanpa lelaki ia rapuh, ia akan oleng bagai tertiup angin puyuh. Lagi-lagi “katanya”.
GEIGA VIA TANARO Jul 2017
tuan putri
paduka rajanya pergi
tuan putri
buku dongengnya berenti
waktunya tidur
pergi bermimpi
KA Poetry Oct 2017
Wanita berlapis kerudung
Apakah lancang diriku untuk berbincang ?
Perasaan yang terus menarik diriku untuk mendekat
Pikiran yang terus menahan akan menghormati

Apakah yang ada didalam hatimu?
Seisi coklat dengan beraneka rasa?
Atau
Seikat bunga dengan sama warna?

Rasa ingin tahu yang sangat besar
Membuat diriku ingin memasuki dunia mu
Dunia yang mengguncang
Namun, tidak banyak yang merasakan

Buku - buku yang disusun rapih
Namun tidak satupun isinya mengenaimu
Bayangan yang selalu hadir di mata
Namun tidak ada pelaku bayangan itu

Bolehkah diriku mendapatkan kehormatan
Untuk masuk dan mempelajari hatimu?
Maafkan diriku yang lancang ini
Aku hanya ingin tahu tentang seorang putri berkerudung.
16/10/2017 | 19.08 | Indonesia
KA Poetry Oct 2017
Semalam
Lagu - lagu kuno itu aku mainkan
Seakan aku hidup di zaman victoria
Berperan rapih, layaknya seorang bangsawan.

Menunggu
Menyambut dirimu yang kupanggil “Lady”
Nona berparas cantik
Pula berdarah biru

Seorang putri di umum
Seorang ratu di hati
Berdansa ditengah Ballroom
Membuat malam ini milik kita berdua

Mimpi yang indah !
12/10/2017 | 13.02 | Indonesia
ga Sep 2017
Kau duduk dalam diam
Segaris senyum kau tebar
Aku yang lemah menyerah kalah
Membakar omong kosong
Menciptakan bara apiku

Aku terpaku, pertama kalinya bagiku
Suara renyah bergairah
Menggelitik daun telinga
Mendarat indah di relung hati
Tak perduli yang kau katakan
Aku hanya ingin mendengarkan

Ingin rasanya kugenggam tanganmu
Menculikmu dengan gagah berani
Layaknya ksatria dan kau sang putri
Menyibak rambut ombakmu
Kusematkan bunga
Yang kita petik bersama

Namun...

Aku bukanlah ksatria
Dan kau sendirilah pemilik kastil itu
Tak ada bunga mekar yang bisa kupetik hari itu
Namun di lain hari kuharap kita bertemu lagi
29/09/17
Di gloria il viso e la gioconda voce,
Garzon bennato, apprendi,
E quanto al femminile ozio sovrasti
La sudata virtude. Attendi attendi,
Magnanimo campion (s'alla veloce
Piena degli anni il tuo valor contrasti
La spoglia di tuo nome), attendi e il core
Movi ad alto desio. Te l'echeggiante
Arena e il circo, e te fremendo appella
Ai fatti illustri il popolar favore;
Te rigoglioso dell'età novella
Oggi la patria cara
Gli antichi esempi a rinnovar prepara.
Del barbarico sangue in Maratona
Non colorò la destra
Quei che gli atleti ignudi e il campo eleo,
Che stupido mirò l'ardua palestra,
Né la palma beata e la corona
D'emula brama il punse. E nell'Alfeo
Forse le chiome polverose e i fianchi
Delle cavalle vincitrici asterse
Tal che le greche insegne e il greco acciaro
Guidò dè Medi fuggitivi e stanchi
Nelle pallide torme; onde sonaro
Di sconsolato grido
L'alto sen dell'Eufrate e il servo lido.
Vano dirai quel che disserra e scote
Della virtù nativa
Le riposte faville? E che del fioco
Spirto vital negli egri petti avviva
Il caduco fervor? Le meste rote
Da poi che Febo instiga, altro che gioco
Son l'opre dè mortali? Ed è men vano
Della menzogna il vero? A noi di lieti
Inganni e di felici ombre soccorse
Natura stessa: e là dove l'insano
Costume ai forti errori esca non porse,
Negli ozi oscuri e nudi
Mutò la gente i gloriosi studi.
Tempo forse verrà ch'alle ruine
Delle italiche moli
Insultino gli armenti, e che l'aratro
Sentano i sette colli; e pochi Soli
Forse fien volti, e le città latine
Abiterà la cauta volpe, e l'atro
Bosco mormorerà fra le alte mura;
Se la funesta delle patrie cose
Obblivion dalle perverse menti
Non isgombrano i fati, e la matura
Clade non torce dalle abbiette genti
Il ciel fatto cortese
Dal rimembrar delle passate imprese.
Alla patria infelice, o buon garzone,
Sopravviver ti doglia.
Chiaro per lei stato saresti allora
Che del serto fulgea, di ch'ella è spoglia,
Nostra colpa e fatal. Passò stagione;
Che nullo di tal madre oggi s'onora:
Ma per te stesso al polo ergi la mente.
Nostra vita a che val? Solo a spregiarla:
Beata allor che nè perigli avvolta,
Se stessa obblia, né delle putri e lente
Ore il danno misura e il flutto ascolta;
Beata allor che il piede
Spinto al varco leteo, più grata riede.
A Jun 2019
Malam itu,
Ia memperlakukanku bak seorang putri
Kami berjalan-jalan berkeliling kota
dengan sepeda motor
Yang pernah ia ceritakan,
motor itu dibelikan ayahnya ketika ia berusia delapan belas
Tidak hanya berkeliling kota,
kami juga makan sepuluh tusuk sate padang di gerobak pinggir jalan
Bertukar cerita, bertukar senda gurau, atau bahkan bertukar lelucon yang sebenarnya tidak lucu satu sama lain
Aku suka dengan cara ia menggenggam tanganku,
mengusap lembut pucuk kepalaku,
dan memberikanku senyum terbaiknya

Tentu, tak hanya malam itu
Hari hariku selalu diwarnai olehnya
Sampai akhirnya malam ini,
ia meperlakukan perempuan lain; sama sepertiku dulu
Bedanya, itu bukan aku
Jemariku menari di atas aksara.




Kemari sayang,
nanti malam aku akan ceritakan pertarungan antara Putri Cina dengan Amir Hamzah,
dan Pangeran Bulan yang tak pernah datang.

Tragedi Sampek yang menjelma kupu-kupu disusul kekasihnya.
memilih abadi dalam dunia baka,
ketimbang hidup 100 tahun bersama lara.
aku akan tutup dongeng malam dengan kisah kita yang abadi dalam dimensi khayal.

"Selamat malam."
sayang sudah hampir habis dimakan api harapan yang tinggal di detak jantung.

kamu laki-laki yang pernah hampir menyayangi saya, kembali lagi mencari apa yang masih menyangkut di paru-paru saya.

kamu bisa robek dan belah apa yang tersisa dari tubuh ini, robek semua sampai terbelah tulang rusuk saya.

lalu saya akan maafkan kamu lagi,
karena ibu dan nenek melihat cinta sebagai memaafkan berulang kali.
Di gloria il viso e la gioconda voce,
Garzon bennato, apprendi,
E quanto al femminile ozio sovrasti
La sudata virtude. Attendi attendi,
Magnanimo campion (s'alla veloce
Piena degli anni il tuo valor contrasti
La spoglia di tuo nome), attendi e il core
Movi ad alto desio. Te l'echeggiante
Arena e il circo, e te fremendo appella
Ai fatti illustri il popolar favore;
Te rigoglioso dell'età novella
Oggi la patria cara
Gli antichi esempi a rinnovar prepara.
Del barbarico sangue in Maratona
Non colorò la destra
Quei che gli atleti ignudi e il campo eleo,
Che stupido mirò l'ardua palestra,
Né la palma beata e la corona
D'emula brama il punse. E nell'Alfeo
Forse le chiome polverose e i fianchi
Delle cavalle vincitrici asterse
Tal che le greche insegne e il greco acciaro
Guidò dè Medi fuggitivi e stanchi
Nelle pallide torme; onde sonaro
Di sconsolato grido
L'alto sen dell'Eufrate e il servo lido.
Vano dirai quel che disserra e scote
Della virtù nativa
Le riposte faville? E che del fioco
Spirto vital negli egri petti avviva
Il caduco fervor? Le meste rote
Da poi che Febo instiga, altro che gioco
Son l'opre dè mortali? Ed è men vano
Della menzogna il vero? A noi di lieti
Inganni e di felici ombre soccorse
Natura stessa: e là dove l'insano
Costume ai forti errori esca non porse,
Negli ozi oscuri e nudi
Mutò la gente i gloriosi studi.
Tempo forse verrà ch'alle ruine
Delle italiche moli
Insultino gli armenti, e che l'aratro
Sentano i sette colli; e pochi Soli
Forse fien volti, e le città latine
Abiterà la cauta volpe, e l'atro
Bosco mormorerà fra le alte mura;
Se la funesta delle patrie cose
Obblivion dalle perverse menti
Non isgombrano i fati, e la matura
Clade non torce dalle abbiette genti
Il ciel fatto cortese
Dal rimembrar delle passate imprese.
Alla patria infelice, o buon garzone,
Sopravviver ti doglia.
Chiaro per lei stato saresti allora
Che del serto fulgea, di ch'ella è spoglia,
Nostra colpa e fatal. Passò stagione;
Che nullo di tal madre oggi s'onora:
Ma per te stesso al polo ergi la mente.
Nostra vita a che val? Solo a spregiarla:
Beata allor che nè perigli avvolta,
Se stessa obblia, né delle putri e lente
Ore il danno misura e il flutto ascolta;
Beata allor che il piede
Spinto al varco leteo, più grata riede.
Di gloria il viso e la gioconda voce,
Garzon bennato, apprendi,
E quanto al femminile ozio sovrasti
La sudata virtude. Attendi attendi,
Magnanimo campion (s'alla veloce
Piena degli anni il tuo valor contrasti
La spoglia di tuo nome), attendi e il core
Movi ad alto desio. Te l'echeggiante
Arena e il circo, e te fremendo appella
Ai fatti illustri il popolar favore;
Te rigoglioso dell'età novella
Oggi la patria cara
Gli antichi esempi a rinnovar prepara.
Del barbarico sangue in Maratona
Non colorò la destra
Quei che gli atleti ignudi e il campo eleo,
Che stupido mirò l'ardua palestra,
Né la palma beata e la corona
D'emula brama il punse. E nell'Alfeo
Forse le chiome polverose e i fianchi
Delle cavalle vincitrici asterse
Tal che le greche insegne e il greco acciaro
Guidò dè Medi fuggitivi e stanchi
Nelle pallide torme; onde sonaro
Di sconsolato grido
L'alto sen dell'Eufrate e il servo lido.
Vano dirai quel che disserra e scote
Della virtù nativa
Le riposte faville? E che del fioco
Spirto vital negli egri petti avviva
Il caduco fervor? Le meste rote
Da poi che Febo instiga, altro che gioco
Son l'opre dè mortali? Ed è men vano
Della menzogna il vero? A noi di lieti
Inganni e di felici ombre soccorse
Natura stessa: e là dove l'insano
Costume ai forti errori esca non porse,
Negli ozi oscuri e nudi
Mutò la gente i gloriosi studi.
Tempo forse verrà ch'alle ruine
Delle italiche moli
Insultino gli armenti, e che l'aratro
Sentano i sette colli; e pochi Soli
Forse fien volti, e le città latine
Abiterà la cauta volpe, e l'atro
Bosco mormorerà fra le alte mura;
Se la funesta delle patrie cose
Obblivion dalle perverse menti
Non isgombrano i fati, e la matura
Clade non torce dalle abbiette genti
Il ciel fatto cortese
Dal rimembrar delle passate imprese.
Alla patria infelice, o buon garzone,
Sopravviver ti doglia.
Chiaro per lei stato saresti allora
Che del serto fulgea, di ch'ella è spoglia,
Nostra colpa e fatal. Passò stagione;
Che nullo di tal madre oggi s'onora:
Ma per te stesso al polo ergi la mente.
Nostra vita a che val? Solo a spregiarla:
Beata allor che nè perigli avvolta,
Se stessa obblia, né delle putri e lente
Ore il danno misura e il flutto ascolta;
Beata allor che il piede
Spinto al varco leteo, più grata riede.
Gracy Patel Aug 16
Ek shanyashi, kailasash washi,
Sansar bulata tu bhole kalyankari,
Moh Maya se pare wo ganga dhari,
Netra bandh, shant suamya swaroop hari.

Ek Rajkumari pratibhashali,
Parvat raj ki putri thi wo Parvati,
Ati sundar wo kanya gunkari,
Maata pita ki raj dulari.

Purva janams wo anjan,
Bhul se bhatak *** ek van me ekaant,
Dekha shivling dhul me paryapt,
Chuke k mahsoos kiya koi purwa janam ka gyaan.

Anjani utejna ya hiriday me jaga prem,
Parvati bhuli sansar ka sneh,
Van me jake Kiya tapsya ka dheyey,
Chord ke Mahal dhundh ne chali man ka chen.
Par wo prem hi kya jisme na ** duvidha,
Shiv saa agori kaha samje, ye to he narayan ki leela,
Parvati bhi kaha thi piche hatne wali,
Sansar kehta wo agori or tu rajkumari,
Prem ki yahi to kahani,
Na me puri na wo Pura, phir bhi sansar ke sukhi Nar Naari.
Describe shiv parwati love journey through poem

— The End —