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{i remember}

She comes to presence
in a great wave of grief
that has no bottom.

{water cannot swim}

Feeling the unbearable
weight of womanhood
tearing me open,
revealing my own sorrows.

{a channel of life}*

To be a gate of love and blood,
the flesh of desire,
bearer of all burdens,

was so traumatic I was reborn
in the body of a man.
Stéphanie Aug 2018
I feel jailed in my own body
socially forced to conceive
emotionally sick
hurt within

Scared to transmit pain
in this age of depression
reminding my ancestors' culpability;
will I also hurt my descendant?

Struggling to finish a phd
in this age of precarity
thinking it might push me;
Or, will I fail it all?
Ozioma Ogbaji Apr 2015
People stare at me with confused eyes
They ask to know where my secret lies
They wonder where I found my gait
They love the way I articulate
The softness of my arms
My captivating youthful charm:
This is my woman
The woman I have become
All these and more, are my woman

I walk with a quirky poise
People whisper, and it's a delightful noise
The smile on my lips
The curve of my hips
They say I've always been this cool
But honey, do not be fooled:
This is my woman
The woman I have become
All these and more, are my woman

They see fire in my eyes
They say I'm for keeps 'cause I'm a prize
There is a grace in my vibes
Something good to imbibe
The warmth I bring
The joy I bring:
This is my woman
The woman I have become
All these and more, are my woman

There is something about me
How did I come to be?
The reason behind my womanly pride
The reason for my sedate stride
My aura, as that of a beloved emperor
My shoulders high like that of a conqueror:
This is my woman
The woman I have become
All these and more, are my woman

They say I am a mystery
There's definitely more to me
In the stillness of my mind
In the presence of my kind
I become more of the woman I am meant to be
The best of me you are yet to see:
This is my woman
The woman I have become
All these and more, are my woman
Chelsea Primera Aug 2017
She wants to become a girl again,
After two divorces, three kids and
pieces of heart blended
into the uneven daily affairs.

She wishes to be innocent once more.
To see the sky through her amber eyes;
To laugh carelessly down a penniless neighborhood;
To recollect the fragrant things she holds dear.

Where is the Anne of Green Gables?
Where is the Alice in Wonderland?
Where are Jo, Meg, Beth, and Amy?
Where did the flowers go to die.

She tells me she misses all the sunrise,
Gazing into a blue sunset,
The cooking that tastes no longer loving,
The perfume that smells no longer happy,
The loneliness that is no longer heroic.

She carries on, with her broken wings,
and the birth of a woman's concrete essence.
[sister poem--1|| 8/15/17
cait-cait Nov 2018
i beg for other people’s *** stories,
because i am broken and unloved...

and when boys snarl,
                             i feel alone, although
i know that they are just laughing...

i’ve found that womanhood is
half shame before everything else,

so i can only notice how
other girls wave their successes above my head,
as though being ****** is a prize and being loved is an end game,

that screams GAME OVER in bright red.

i will take my silence over your lifestyle any day,
despite the fact that i still cry when you leave.
women can’t exist without being analyzed, tested, and corrected. i wish girls wrote poems about being happy instead. Don’t @ me.
Before I became a woman, life was just a collection of childish adventures
Playing "ten-ten" in the evening, oblivious to the chickens coming home to roost.
"Always" was just another word and the only cramps I experienced
were those that resulted from climbing too many trees.
Barry was just "the boy with the big head"
and Joseph was my "play-play" husband.
"Hide and seek" was not a game of hearts
and cartoons always had a moral lesson.
*** was an example of a "three letter word" and life was so simple without having to wear a bra.
Before I became a woman,
fathers were always the men and wives were always women.
Nobody confused those roles becaue
"Ali" was always the boy and "Simbi" was the girl
"Adam was to Eve" as pencil was to eraser.

Before I became a woman,
foolishness was not sold on TV because the truth was preached in black and white.
A ten year old was still her mother's baby  not bride of bearded old man.
Children were going to be leaders of tomorrow,
"Twerk" was not an example of a verb
because Hannah Montana still had her clothes on.
The boys didn't stop to stare and tease because I was unripe for harvest.
Sunday school was about "How the fish ate Jonah"
and not about Salem my newest "crush."
Before I became a woman,
I wanted to marry a doctor, pilot, Jack Sparrow,
or the boy next door.
Then I grew up...

When I became a woman,
Life took on a new meaning
A collection of choices and decisions.
The boys didn't want to play no more and mama said I had to be lady.
Sally and Amina didn't want to talk anymore because puberty had reared its head
and boys were more interesting than our games of old.
When I became a woman,
I learnt about purpose and the ills of society
I stepped back and saw that little girl gradually fade away.
I did not try to run after her, her part in my life was  over.
I watched her go with a mixture of pain and happiness
I stepped into my woman suit and made my own mistakes.
I cried my own tears and bandaged my own wounds
I knew now that life was only fair to those who never gave up.

Now lipsticks and mascara have replaced a lot of play things.
Now I am woman and I want to marry ambition, guts and a man who is not too proud to believe in God.
Now I am a woman but no  child is still a leader.
Now I am a woman and I own my mistakes
Now I am a woman and I am not afraid to love, live or pray.
Now I am a woman but I have more than a figure eight.
Now I am a woman and I understand my mother better.

I pray for you young girl,
may you have the courage to wave childhood goodbye
when the sounds of womanhood begin to reach your ears
May you be brave enough to miss a game of hopscotch
so you can catch a train to destiny.
And when you are ripe for marriage
may you not look for a man that will validate your existence.
Put away childishness as you wait for that boy
that has become a MAN WHEN YOU BECOME A WOMAN.

#EchoesOfChildhood #PoemsForTheYoungMe #Womanhood #Love #Live #Play #MoveOn #Energie
Ghazal Nov 2018
I am the cushion that life first rests in,
The crib meticulously created layer by layer,
The soft bed of flowers, glistening like blood,
The protector of all beings, the seat of care

My love is fuelled by the silver calmness
I gently extract from the first lunar night,
When the moon emerges from its dark sabbatical,
Armed with tales it gathered from the other side

Each day, its luminosity deepens, its stories
Turn more vivid, more wrenching, more morose,
I soak it all in- the pain, the suffering, the injustice,
And colour myself, in the darkest shade of rose

My red is no ordinary red, it is the
Culmination of every sister's deep cry,
It is the crimson of anger that can only be felt,
By the cradle entrusted with preservation of life

I am full and brimming, with pangs too strong
And hues of vermilion too dark to contain,
I rock back and forth, my cot full of stories,
Twisting, flailing and writhing in pain

And then I burst out and let freely flow,
The dam I created with laments of loss and love
Painted with conversations lasting until twilight,
With my cratered friend in the skies above

Petal by petal, as I lose my form and disintegrate,
She is connected to each woman's cry that I assimilate,
Flexed at the pelvis, helpless yet so strong, she listens,
And understands the lore I sing about, every twenty-eighth.
Abigail Aug 15
I am a smooth surface.
I am a number of hiding places.
I am meat, I am bone and
I am anything but my own.
Meg Feb 4
i am not a woman
i am a slab of pink flesh
soft and smooth under your rough hands
my heart warm and alive and beating
fast fast fast
beneath your empty chest

i am not a woman
i am your excuse
with my breath too sweet
and my skin too inviting
drawing you in against my will
as you wrap me in your sin


too distracted by what i am not to see what i have become

i am fire
burning and raging and hungry for blood
i dare you to touch me now

i am a queen
my throne carved with the clay from which you moulded me
and as you kneel before me
head bowed
begging for mercy
praying to the god whose name you have screamed to bind me
i laugh
silly boy,
don’t you know your god is afraid of me?
Abigail Nov 2017
Gunmetal-grey seats stained glossy red
like a blood moon peeking through
back road evergreens.
West Virginia stars crossed over a tangled
tapestry of broken glass and dead flora, reeking
like Jack, patchouli and Virginia Slims.
Buxom, blue lips breathing white steam
on a cracked mirror, looking back on a
cold mountain where the January air
was only foggy for a moment.
karin naude Oct 2013
baby girl,
beautiful precious African queen
stop being a princess waiting on prince charming
(its a disguise of thin foil on a trojan horse)
and be,
be the queen your meant to be
shake off the childish attitude and desires
the bell of womanhood has rung, way past
the dawn bring the new world
maturity here we come
i got your back
your true friend
Stéphanie Feb 19
Told my feelings were fake
Laughed at for crying
Brutalized for refusing
Depicted as anomalous
This is my "home"

I exploded, caught a breath as I felt the silencing

Crossed volatile environments
Misunderstood ephemeral friends
Bullied, ostracized
Experienced injustice
This is school

I performed, in the illusion of shutting silencing

Living my curiosity
Knowledge is my strength
Reflexivity makes me grow
Embracing my difference
This is my refuge

I introspected, in the freedom of their paralyzed silencing

Meet mind-like people
Discovered my emotions
Explored my preferences
Dug my family history
This is my travel

I free-fell, as in my trust I hit structural silencing

Communicating humbly
Nourishing healthy relationships
Trusting my positions
Affirming my autonomy
This is my womanhood

Becoming a mother, I urge to gather the pieces for her freedom
I wrote this poem after days of suffering from my mother's intrusion in my maternity… how she made fun of me and invalidated my thoughts, actions and desires towards my future daughter.
within the red is life unwoven
an unknown that rests undefined
before it knows it’s end
it leaves traces of its redundance in the shape of senseless tremors
and restless quivers
that leave me paralysed in time

the blood curse 
the ritual of unborn futures  
it leaves me thinking  of
slashing the bonds of my abdomen
for the bittersweet release
of this cascading trauma
will leave me unmade
and free from bloodfilled womanhood
Rama Krsna Jun 29
i knew not
of you or your exploits
till that time
when my finely tuned nasal buds
invaded by your magical creation
transported me
to a fragrant heaven of sorts,
merging me temporarily
deep inside her moist velvet purse

‘For Her’
your fitting tribute
to grace, perfection
and all womanhood

if only
you could’ve come up
with a more permanent fix,
while you helped me
win that game of lust
i seem to have
lost the war on love

© 2019
For Her is a truly sensuous perfume created by this designer.
Sillo Anderson Oct 2018
Moonlight sculpts the originality of love
Brewing affection to be sure of hurt.
Silencing change from being one with all
And leaving assurance to mold dirt.
As bright pasts take,
To fix and call the grand faith of forgiveness
The seclusion of humanity, falls below our dreams
Taking life to be, an ornament on moving feet.
But !
A new dawn may see.
Of differences and feels, leaving ignorance in the coldness of realities.
As moonlights sculpts the originality of being me.
One who was once young and free.
October 23 Apr 2017
The overwhelming depths of your womanhood
Feeling trapped and  burdened by your decisions
Living in the lap of luxury of your own selfishness
Actually thinking you could live for yourself
Or pave your own way with grace and dignity
But you are much more than who you've been credited
Those who doubt you fuel your ambition
You are the moon lighting your own darkness
You are the roots of all that has bloomed
You are the beacon of wisdom of all your past lovers
None of whom will ever understand the entirety of your beauty
Kathleen M Aug 2018
he plays the song
for you that makes
your hips dance and
that makes you feel
like a goddess
his fingers stroke
the treble chords
of the instrument
between the folds
of your womanhood
the beat of his tune is
synchronized with
the rhythm of your
heart pounding melodies
against your chest
he reaches out to you
with hungry eyes
that make you beg  
for more before he
has even begun
his body locked in yours
like a puzzle piece
only one possible match
could fit you
this well.
When I look into the mirror
I see a girl-
A girl who hides behind her skin
I see a girl-
A girl with a look in her eyes
A look of regret
A look of sorrow
A look of a painful experience
I see what you've made me to be
I am a victim of yours
I am the girl they talk about
I am your victim
I am the girl you damaged
I am your victim
You're ******* victim
When I look into the mirror
I see nobody
I feel nobody
I hear nobody
When I look into the mirror
I see the fear blazing into my eyes
I feel the masculine of your hands beaming down on me
I hear your muffled groans and audible grunts
I am what you've made me to be
I had a life
I planned a future
I wanted love
I wanted a husband
I wanted children
I wanted so **** much but-
I want you,
I want you dead
Buried six feet plus in the **** soiled ground
I want you gone
Banished to hell!
When I look into the mirror
I see the outcome of my most horrid nightmare
I feel the bile rising in my throat because you never fail to make me sick-
I fear you
I hate you
I ******* HATE YOU
But you're the only one I can think about.
I was raised
I was loved
I loved too
But you took that from me
You took so much from me
Confidence, you took from me
Bluntness, you took from me
Pride, you took from me
I believed in myself
I had faith in myself
But you took that from me
I see you, Often enough
On the streets, selling dope
Riding around, lookin for ******
In my dreams, ****** me again!
You destroyed me, you took my womanhood away
You did this to me!
I can't walk outside alone because of you
I avoid alleys because of you
I hide behind tinted sunglasses hoping and praying I don't run into you
You changed my life in more ways than you can imagine
I am not the same person I used to be
I am not the same person I was last year
I am not the same person who completed high school
I'm not same person who politely introduced myself to you
I am not the same person my parents knew me as
I- I-... I am nobody
All because you took myself from me.
Shelby Finger Aug 15
What am I? I am a woman.
A woman fully equipped with an understanding that can only be achieved through exposure to atomic *******. After twenty-eight years of familiarity with the follies of man, I’ve grown. I’ve grown into wisdom, I’ve grown as a mother, sister, daughter.
I’ve also LITERALLY grown. I’m an eighty foot tall spectacle.

For the ****, abuse, **** pics, war, objectification, toxicity, and laws of MAN, I arise from the depths. My frame paints a terrifying silhouette against the sunset streaked horizon.
I am an atomic monstrosity, a giantess hellbent on conquering YOUR world: to rampage is an understatement.
Donning a crown of destruction, with massive hands dripping in palpable carnage, I am a disastrous threat to YOUR society.

Run for your lives, mother *******. We are all transforming. Women are GROWING in 2020. We are gnashing, stomping, fire breathing vehicles of YOUR apocalypse. We brought you into this world, surely we can take you out. You done ****** up.

Collectively, we are making our debut. You won’t know it until we’re looking down on you. Most will be eaten, some will be spared (you know, not “ALL” guys). Your tiny lifeless bodies will litter in the streets, but only for the day—
It’s a new dawn, and we she-monsters clean up our ******* messes.
Lou Sep 2018
In an epidemic of black eyes
Cyclops people lose.

                                          A right
of passage into womanhood is


                                           A right
hook with a bow tie in the
                Vmiddle Knuckle.


From index to pinky
And all over her body.

Seeing this from one eye
Is the luck of having two.

"Thank you.", I say.

With half my mouth in silence
As muted screams escape the smothering hand that says LOVE.
This poem is about men who don't acknowledge the existence of abuse. Maybe even their contribution to it for ignoring it. The privilege of being a white man in a country that burns victims is incredibly frightening. Having accountability for your actions and checking others. Violence is everywhere .
Nahal Jul 25
Táhirih, The Pure One, Qurrat al-'Ayn
Poet too, Solace of the Eyes, they say
In 17 the same year as Husayn
Veiled in soft silk proclaiming a new day
Alí granted you a staunch, steadfast Faith
Striking intellect, beauty, and mission  
Vivid dreaming what the Surih saith
The path to equality: your vision
Cover your hair in shame of womanhood
Uncover it for emancipation
Freedom from Iranian clergy would
Prevent your early white expiration

Martyrdom is a choice then it's over
A longing to reach the Friend and Lover
Famously saying "You can **** me as soon as you like, but you cannot stop the emancipation of women!"
Tahiríh, known as the Pure One, was a follower of the Báb and one of the Letters of the Living. She was the only female Letter of the Living, and the only one to not actually meet the Báb in person.
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