"unmarried" poems
The English vice,
Some Etonian curse –
Set down in grass
And purple verse,
Lavatory bred
With ransacked blood,
Skin slapping and
With a falling thud –
Takes boys at childhood,
Wishes them away,
With promises of popper fuelled buffets,
And poisons them with
Vice and virus red,
And sees them unmarried
Giving head.
I don’t regret a single thing I am,
I’ve tried it out
And can’t abide the sham –
I’ll **** men
And make them beg for more,
I’ll scrabble for their love upon the floor,
I’ll love men
And love will love me too,
I’ll love for love’s own sake
And when I’m through
I’ll die and I’ll be thankful that your hate
Never made me beg that I was straight.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 6:01 PM UTC
I never got the chance,
To see the outside world,
Since I was sacrificed,
For the honor of my family.
I sleep on the floor,
Right next to dogs,
I eat from the floor,
Just like a dog,
But I work for, a very honorable family.
My mother-in-law is loving,
She wants the best for me,
A daughter as a child would be bad right?
Us, being a family with honor and pride.
I was violated,
But my life was complete,
I married him,
The honor of the family wasn't tarnished at-least.
I don't want to marry,
My heart lies among the paints and brushes,
I shall marry,
My mind knows unmarried girls bring taints and shushes.
My brother gets home by 3am,
Me, 10 hours earlier,
My dreams, my life, my need for freedom?
These don't bring honor to the family.
My aunt died,
I will too,
My husband passed away,
Awaiting me are flames that flare and sway.
Our lives are a necessary sacrifice,
Our families should live, with honor and pride.
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 11:50 AM UTC
Hijab is my crown
shaped in a circle
around my head
like that of a full moon
bringing light
from the One
who has commanded me
to wear it
to my face
Hijab is my crown
shaped in a circle
around my head
like a merry-go-round
rotating with a joyful force
in places near and far
illuminating its power
a reflection of my soul
and inner beauty
Hijab is my crown
shaped in a circle
around my head
the way whirling dervishes move
we're so high
aspiring nearness to Allah Masha'Allah
our act of wearing hijab daily
deserving of much respect
and Insha Allah
The Seventh Heaven
Hijab is my crown
shaped in a circle
around my head
like a spinning wheel
many made
in different colors
and in different textures
each brightening the world
and when wearing it
like Khadijah (AS), Fatimah (AS), and Aisha (RA)
attracts attention of the best kind
Hijab is my crown
shaped in a circle
around my head
like Big Ben
I'm so high
dignified
a visible ambassador
of Islam
saying no to immodesty
and saying yes to our Majesty
Hijab is my crown
shaped in a circle
around my head
like a halo
starting my day with Bismillah
and looking into the mirror
to carefully donn it
I remember
I'm doing this to help men
married and unmarried
from sinning
and to protect myself
from impurity and immoral acts
as
Hijab is my crown
for me a Queen
By: Najwa Kareem
Jan 31, 2021
Jan 31, 2021 at 2:42 PM UTC
The Jewish brothers in Defiance were definitely tough.
One wanted to **** many Germans, the other to save many Jews.
The German soldiers were expendable, unmarried, unremarkable.
Each little death was very little, a little spittle in a big wind.
Fast forward to my friend's son's bar mitzvah or daughter's
coming of age ceremony. Food is abundant, the music frenetic,
the rabbi paid. Gifts generous but not obvious.
Wealth does not obviate death and we know it.
Here too we have natural leaders. Youth basketball coaches,
school principals and, again, interpreters of prayers. When
violence comes to the neighborhood they are who we'll first look to
for governance and guns. Unless have you read The Admirable
Crichton?
Boredom, boredom conflated with loneliness, may be a sign
of good luck. To live a good length or light year away from man's
bad breath, allergenic perfumes, sickening flatulence and shed hair.
But you are drawn back into the debate about perfection by your own
********
While teaching at the old city jail I have learned this: only meditation
upon the periodic table can save your soul. From itself.
Imagining the world without the self will make you whole.
What else is there to say. Do less until one thing's done well.
After the war the brothers started a small trucking company
in the Bronx. Grateful for such peace, the accounting
was relaxing. They thought back to how they met their wives, naked
before the bombs and bullets. How they lost and found themselves in
what happened.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
I sit back on the computer,
Browsing through the pages of those I grew up with
Those people who thought they knew everything about me
I sit back and see what they’ve made of themselves
This girl is single, living alone with her four cats
This other girl now has two kids, unmarried and no degree
This girl is engaged to her high school sweetheart, yet they don’t look happy
This other couple broke up, wait they’re back together, nope spoke too soon
This guy is working at the local supermarket, never went to college after his arrest
This guy gained a few pounds, no longer the star athlete
This guy dropped off the map
See being the quiet girl, I learned secrets
I knew the deepest secrets of every single one of these people
Because while they sat in the back of the room chattering on about their so called problems
I was sitting in the front,
Listening
This girl had two boyfriends, and even more flings
This girl slept with four guys in one night
This girl’s boyfriend cheated on her, over and over again
This couple would sneak off in between classes, during lunch, or school assemblies
This guy was the trophy child, who gave away free drugs to his friends hidden inside pens
This guy was the quarterback; everything handed to him on a golden platter
This guy was the school stud who was hiding a relationship with his boyfriend by sleeping with every girl he could
Back then I listened because I wanted to feel apart of something bigger
I wanted to be one of them,
I wanted to be invited to all those weekend bashes
I wanted to be the girl people felt awed by, inspired by, idolized
I wanted to be part of the “in” crowd
So I stood there, day after day
As they teased me
Berated me
Shattered my confidence
Tearing apart everything I was
Telling me I would never amount to anything
Telling me I was fat, ugly, stupid
That I unworthy of love
Telling me…
I
Was
Nothing
Let them tell me that today
I see everything of what they have become
Those people I wanted to be are no longer there
Their confidence shattered by reality
The best days of their life ended the day they left high school
Mine on the other hand are just beginning
I am the girl who is wanted
I’m the girl who can go wild
I’m the girl who can be passionate
I’m the girl who is adventurous
I’m the girl who brings pride
I’m the girl who is the athlete
I'm the girl who travels the world
I’m the girl who is unashamed of who I am
Because by pushing me out
My oppressors gave me everything I needed
The strength to try
The courage to dream
The ability to think
The confidence to be unique
Independence to thrive
But more than anything
My oppressors gave me desire
Desire to be more than they believed I could be
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
You quote from Leviticus
Call me an abomination
As you eat cheeseburgers
And claim a Christian nation.
You don’t ****** daughters
Who have had unmarried love
Yet, demonizing gay people
Fits you like an expensive glove.
You vilify your children daily
And quote the bible to boot,
While you work on the Sabbath
In your fine mixed-fabric suit.
You talk so glibly about us
Out of both sides of your mouth.
You are embarrassing examples
Of the sickness of the Old South.
You just ain’t right.
Your head’s on wrong.
Your hypocritical ravings
Are the cause of this song.
You’re a liar and a nut
And you’re halfway crazy.
We'd make laws against you
But we’re too **** lazy.
You wave your hands and pray
In public so you are well seen.
You copy your Christianity
From the latest People magazine.
Your idea of pious philosophy
Is way off the Christian track.
If I ever shake hands with you
I’ll count the fingers I get back.
You just ain’t right.
Your head’s on wrong.
Your hypocritical ravings
Are the cause of this song.
You’re a liar and a nut
And you’re halfway crazy.
We'd make laws against you
But we’re too **** lazy.
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 8:18 PM UTC
Come, let us pity those who are better off than we are.
Come, my friend, and remember
that the rich have butlers and no friends,
And we have friends and no butlers.
Come, let us pity the married and the unmarried.
Dawn enters with little feet
like a gilded Pavlova
And I am near my desire.
Nor has life in it aught better
Than this hour of clear coolness
the hour of waking together.
2.7k
normal girls call you up at midnight needing *** but i, i just need you.
i don't need ***
that is beyond me.
i am too fat, too ugly, too unmarried for ***
and you have a purity ring etched in your heart.
i just need you.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
Not all Married men are
inaccessible to a past true love
Especially mentally united.
Not all honorable unmarried men are accessible
for affairs in the love arenas
Some married men are a Knight to someone special
without any extra-marital stains.
My King lost his sword by me
all without my intention to do harm at all but mare duty to love my man more than I loved myself.
Once a married poet found his sword by me by
my virtual loving ways
and at a distance.
My old true love King of hearts thinks of me
walking, sighing love poems about our road not taken.
My avenue of the death.
I feel like a blindfolded sword gold hearted queen
who has lost her pharaoh
and can't be consoled.
I need my Knight in real life
My beloved king of hearts!
My once upon a time?
My willow tree of life.?
My ancient Pinocchio
hiding wealth name reign
and heart of gold?
Oh come to me I plead you.
I love you so.
~~~~
Karijinbba.
~~~
Nov 6, 2021
Nov 6, 2021 at 1:09 AM UTC
Remember? Do you?
*The verses of the Mahabharata,
Where Draupati begged to let her go,
Where being a wife of the Pandavas made her no different from the unmarried women.*
Remember? Do you?
*When inside 1 in 10 houses,
A little girl complains to her mum,
It hurts me in there Maa.*
Remember? Do you?
*The night,
When a girl lay all naked and battered on the road,
When a friend of her's was as helpless as the lost kid at the course.*
Remember? do you?
The nights when people marched with candles in their hands,
The days when we witnessed protests.
*Days after days,
Months after months,
Years after years,
Didn't you,
All of you, tried to build us?*
The ones who were too small to understand,
The ones who were capable enough to understand,
And the ones who understood what all this actually meant.
*From the cheap comments passed
To the guidelines to dress-up,*
You filled our heads,
With the thoughts which were never meant to be there.
From all those sad old lines to the new generation trends,
You made us cautious yet scared.
While there were dreams to be accomplished,
And words that were unsaid,
*Your efforts to build us,
Made us question our own existence.*
*With every tantrum and argument we throw,
We have something for you to know, you know,*
Caging us won't do us any good,
While letting us live without the not so needed guidelines will do.
Set us free and cage the ones who needs so,
For the day you would realise,
*Is merely a hypothetical concept you would know.*
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 2:01 AM UTC
She was only 15, no boyfriends yet
At a family gathering their eyes first met
Now Rob's not shy, with plenty of chat
So he gave her a call and they never looked back.
She went to Cambridge to get her degree
So every weekend, so did he.
When that was all done, what's next to do?
No more travelling, just me and you
In a cottage in Framsden made for two
With ferrets and fish and a couple of dogs
Oka cooks happy meat while Rob chops logs
A veggie garden appeared for a spell
A few came up, but the weeds did well.
Some chickens arrived and did their thing
Then so did the fox to commit his sin.
Now Rob loves his hobbies, it gets on her wick
When he's in his shed fiddling with his welding stick.
But life is quite settled, time passes like this
Living their version of unmarried bliss.
But something is missing, the feeling grows
She thinks to herself, will he ever propose?
Then leap year comes round, with it's extra day
That was her chance to have her say
Rob knew it was coming, he took the day off.
She said I want to be married, now don't you scoff!
But Rob wasn't scoffing, he said now I'm sure
I do love my Landie, but I love you more.
That brings us right up to this special day
We all wish you well, we all want to say
May your lives together be happy, healthy and long
May your love for each other keep growing strong.
Dec 23, 2011
Dec 23, 2011 at 2:33 PM UTC
I couldn't realize my greatness
much less your fascination in me depicted in your own eyes
and much less see yours
and a lot less understand then that I could have helped change earth.
I had no idea I could change my life debating if changing it between my real identity and the one the world gave me would even be a wise thing to do
naturally I was a small enchanted frog with a Queen of the forest stolen crown left in some small macabre pound
Impossible to hap across your huge ocean to be kissed and reign as a new Queen of Kemah
much less know
I had the power of love to help me govern your heart your spirit soul but I knew I was your
twin flame and I loved you at first sight.
Until I believed in myself I realized my greatness and yours plus the dreams you described
while alls gone to worp speeds
and black hole law witches
all beauty remained vissible
tangible neverending!
thats the magic of knowing
true love. It never dies.
I just never found anyone able to love me with the same passion ever again.
The many times I tried to move on even you and women you trusted played the authors of malice and treachery setting me up with your contacts to be used betrayed deceived and trashed,
so I live unmarried and free
knowing good and evil
deep in my core intuitive.
I am just a woman of substance,
AWAKENED! Aware!
to my here and now, that's me
and dear it hurt long and bad at times wishing I was never born but I preffer solitude from humans!
I still wish to thank you my precious true love,
you too universe for the rides!
the good and the bad
I am so eternaly grateful
just a woman of substance.
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 5:37 PM UTC
We all have been one in some shape or form.
Having an opinion of almost everyone.
We all have a family member.
Who life we don't agree with?
And that mainly when our judgment begins.
Which label us the judgmental people.
Until the script is turned back upon us.
Yes, we still have the try and truth.
Who lives by that taught golden rule?
If you can't say nothing good.
Then don't say anything at all.
We talk about people affairs.
We talk about the wayward child.
We talk about the interracial couple.
We talk about those unmarried with a child.
We talk the bigots we know.
We talk about the political candidates.
We talk about those that talks about us.
And then we go into a defense mode
Cause , we don't want others judging us.
Although , we are apart of the judgmental people.
Ministers, are no better than us.
They talk about the sinners in the scriptures.
In lessons they use to teaches us.
Will it ever end?
I guess not, as long as we, have the judgmental people in society.
Which I guess includes me.
Is it hard to bite our tongues?
Not really.
But to some it is.
When it's the only way to make friends.
And this is , where your humanity begins?
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 9:56 AM UTC
I hate Dallas
But the hotels nice
Well, at least the view is
See it?
Beautiful isn’t it.
That was earlier today.
Now I’m here
Just standing here ****
In front of this window
I’m wishing someone to see me
For a good laugh
Or
Maybe they will muster up the courage to come knock on my door
Even with the Do Not Disturb Sign hanging from the ****
It’s something about hotels that gets me thinking this way
Out of sorts and more so in the gutter
To think of all the love made between these walls
Passionate - married, unmarried, one night stands, flings…
the good, the bad, and the really REALLY bad
I imagine more of the third
I’m not this way at home
I lay content in my cotton sheets with the occasional hum of a car passing
But here, in this hotel looking out 26 stories above the city
All I want is you…against me
Until the sun rises
Where we will carry on
Go back to our lives
In silence
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 12:03 AM UTC
Religious zeal and explosive prowess make incendiary bedfellows
searing calculating moralism where all fall short and deserve to suffer
self righteous corrupted calumny put forth in a sally of sectarian selectivity
your ilk is heading for Hell and I'm (already there) not
fanatical zealots marginalize intellectuals with their mythical mire of mucked up claptrap and copious lack of a priori specificity
a glorified preposterous plethora of pompous pontificating platitudes
the sins of others they deplore but of themselves they don't keep score
Sunday's best is Sunday's worst
you sanctimonious ******** just can't leave people alone
who elected you to point fingers anyway
Jesus was born in a barn to an unmarried woman
And your mommy got shtuped when you were conceived too
you don't walk on water you insolent impertinent fool
the brain police can't wait for Sunday's
oh the satisfaction of a mutual admiration society
knee-jerk hackneyed pavlovian dog speak
Is anything anymore real if you jump around and shout about it
recipients of adulates get accustomed to sycophants
fawning complacent obsequious kiss ***** and Sunday suck-ups
pass the plate
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 5:14 PM UTC
i know nothing of you
but that you are anthropological
when you are inside unexplored diversities
that are not plums or peaches,
that you are a white siren with red nails
and that you want my knickers
sent enveloped, and sealed with
plastic cobalt kisses.
i know nothing of you
but that when they say poets are not in season;
you pluck me out lime-coloured and prematured
and tell me to ripen beside your afternoon tea
because you demand embryonic words
and pretty phrases that will keep you
animated and high.
you make me know not-
ions are unmarried clouds pregnant with ink;
yours are metabolic and invisible,
injecting sugar into my fallopian tubes.
you press your mouth against my sternum
and interweave your tongue with my heart,
we mould into a double helix.
you make us into nothing
but a genetically mutated flower
with two vulvas, collapsed between two pages
of a book that a ***** slapper would read
in the rain at two ams in between
****** acts and neon sunsets.
Nov 15, 2010
Nov 15, 2010 at 5:00 AM UTC
She will never understand
Fundamentalist Christianity’s demand
To maintain a perfect flower
Solely for a husband to devour
Robbed of her innocence
She begs in the form of repentance
For acceptance and forgiveness
The entire congregation a witness
To victim shame is to victim blame
Even innocent children aren’t immune
Ten past noon on a sunny day in June
A girl’s ***** was breached
A sin in the eyes of the lord, the goodly preacher preached
An unmarried non-virgin is a ***** and nothing more
A defiled child, her name reviled
She is blamed, she is shamed
By her own flesh and blood
Silenced was the little lamb
To hell she will be ******
Keep up the facade
Just smile and nod
Pretend to love the church
Cross necklace, bible, and long skirt
C’mon show your love! Buy that Jesus merch!
Wanting to shed her skin
A prison she’s trapped in
The most perfect of little girls
Except she lost her white pearls
A bitter pill to swallow
The Lord Jesus she must follow
Knowing her body’s imperfect
Understanding she’ll never be worth it
So with the congregation’s nod, the goodly preacher preached:
"For in the eyes of God,
A ***** which is breached
On a girl without a ring
Is worth nothing but a fling"
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 10:28 AM UTC
a short period of poorness is already underway when I enter to promise my dog and nod to my wife. dumb in the mouth I announce I am thinking behind. my shyness is a chair sent from a distant church. the one man in the room tells me I have a purpose and confides that he too is a rental. I’m just here for my unmarried wife who was recently overwhelmed by the human response of our dog. being that the women are slow to evoke, I’ll have myself know your sons are on a flat surface having a nightmare nightmares notice.
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 4:40 PM UTC
A female concert pianist
is playing at Carnegie Hall in Manhattan
Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata and
Debussy’s Clair de Lune and
other romantic melodies
which soothe the aching modern hearts
of her modern urban audience.
She’s 35 and still unmarried.
She’s never met a romantic man
who loves her
like she enjoys being loved:
Romantically like the Moonlight Sonata and
Claire de Lune.
It’s difficult to find a loving husband
in an unromantic world.
During the concert
in breaks between playing pieces
she longingly scans the audience
for a handsome romantic single man
who’s waiting to love her
like she enjoys being loved:
Romantically like the Moonlight Sonata and
Clair de Lune;
but all she sees are couples, mostly old.
It’s difficult to find a loving husband
in an unromantic world.
After the concert
on the taxi-ride to her hotel
the bubble of romantic melodies has burst
and she inures herself once more
to the modern car-horns and truck-roars
of busy city streets.
It’s difficult to find a loving husband
in an unromantic world.
She gazes out the taxi window
at modern urban pedestrians
hustling and bustling on crowded sidewalks
rushing to their business appointments
ambitious for their career success.
It’s difficult to find a loving husband
in an unromantic world.
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 4:59 AM UTC
Tall and white, The Stanley stands atop a hill with might.
A place of beauty and grandeur, a place of mystery and wonder.
Spirits haunt and roam these halls, the whispers of old heard through the walls.
There's Mrs. Wilson sweet and polite, but watch out unmarried couples, she'll give you a fright!
Lord Dunraven with his skivvy ways; the children love to laugh and play.
Mr. Stanley is seen among the billiards; he's still here checking in on his famous figures.
Mrs. Stanley's here too, still playing her piano. She loves it here, her own private Americana.
This place is so much more than "The Shining Hotel."
It's a home for those entities not ready to say farewell.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 1:57 PM UTC
i want to be cremated
and remembered fondly
and though unmarried, buried
in a wedding gown.
and, please, a veil
to conceal the pale
tragedy of my sinking face.
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 11:09 PM UTC
God,
It is said,
Love is thy greatest gift?
I have found a love...
In this life to love...
Life is too short,
Too short to be alone...
I want to give my love,
To the one I love.
Isn't it said
Love is thy greatest gift?
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 12:58 AM UTC
Is it scary? How safer I feel with the dark?
That I always went for the kids, and never the park?
Trapped by people on the other side. Who loved the outside, and not the inside.
What is light? Its strangeness cases me to hide.
And run back to the shadows, where I usually fall back, and abde.
But, if I decide to ride the rollercoaster? Light or dark ride?
Do I need to close my eyes? Pretend my shadows are by my side?
Is it bad that I have more than one shadow? If I said I didn’t, I lied.
Sneezing, I flinch, and close my eyes. Embracing the light, the same rules are applied.
I’d run into the dark with no thought of light, but what if there is someone new that I have not met?
What if she wants me to give you my shadows? And I fall into her bright, but gloomy net?
What if I trade my soul for her dark light? What if she wants to wager? Wants to bet?
What if she makes me believe that the dark is not bad after all? So her presence I’ll let.
No rules are set… yet.
I need to forget everything that I have been told. She would want me to leave my thoughts of light to join her life.
Dark, irresistible features. Beautiful, but cold. She would want me to leave my place here, to be her wife.
But that’s no life.
Look at the dark in me. Look at what could be my light.
I know that I put the darkness there. I know that it’s a self-inflicted fight.
Will I ever turn my darkness to light? My moon to Sun?
Will every shadow, every part be gone? Every single one?
With my thoughts of light as my enemy, my ally. Strength, and weakness. Will I stand or run?
When all my light goes dark, or all my dark goes light, will the war be done?
Who will be the one who won? Am I the one? Who’ll be entirely light? Or dark? Who will choose all or none?
I guess that I am lark and dight. I guess both is right. I will be unmarried, but still be a wife.
But that’s no life.
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 9:40 PM UTC