Love Sep 2015
I am worth more than my breasts
My body is worth more than your horny desires
If you lust after me then prove your desires through a song, written words or simple communication
Do not send me your less than mediocre ungroomed extremitie in a snap
With the word "boobies?" written on it
Take you and your salivating mouth elsewhere
If all you see me for is my breasts.
Hannah Holliday Aug 2014
Boobs are not sexual
They are meant to give a baby it's milk
Not make some horny man hard
They shouldn't be plastered in magazines
The women's body is a work of art
it should be treated like one.
Kristina E Sep 2014
I wanted to write about confidence
Not the kind that makes
a girl pout her lips
and hide her spark away.

Not the kind that makes
a woman look presumptuous,
even though she feels like
a little girl inside.

I wanted to write about
real confidence

The kind of inner beauty that
simply shines through.
The type of confidence
that smiles at strangers
and speaks her mind.

I wanted to write
about the type of walk
that isnt afraid of
little flirtig
and the firm step
that knows what she deserves
and what she wants.

I wanted to capture confidence
to unravel it
and put it into a formula
but how can I do this
if I still feel insecure most of the time?
GC Jul 2014
there was a slice of chocolate cake in the fridge
and my sister asked me if i wanted it.
i didn't respond, stared off into space
and continued to smoke my cigarette
in the kitchen because mom was
asleep already and it was 1 am
on a saturday in july
and it was hot and we were both braless and hoping
the single fan on the counter would circulate the air enough
to make us comfortable in the cottage that we called home
that didn't have air conditioning in the middle of the woods.

the three of us hadn't moved for three more hours,
instead spent all of that time talking about nothing
and everything the way sisters do
because sisters eventually end up saying all the words that have
to be said
but each time it sounds new even though it never is.

we're all different but the thing about sisters is
that other people always see you as the same.

we all eventually grew into having brown hair
even though i had been born a redhead
and she had been born blond
and she had been born the same shade of brunette
that still graced her scalp but was thinner than the rest of ours
and fit in an elastic pony tail comfortably
unlike mine, which broke those things immediately
and she, who cut hers all off in hopes
to cleanse herself and
keep herself from being weighed down.
There's something deeply satisfying
In decimating a piece of runaway tissue
With a healthy jet of piss.

I stand towering above it
As it clings stealthily to the ceramics
And
      cackle
                as
                   I
                     reduce
                                 it
                                    to
                                        mush.

It bleeds yellow.
I feel no remorse.

Perhaps that's why
If the world were ruled by women
There'd be less war.
Rockie May 2015
If women have to suffer to be beautiful
Then why aren't I a goddess?
We women fold linen
some believe we live solely in the kitchen
we are a force of nature,
we nurture children, we are driven,
we kiss things better, we matter.

We women hold opinions
we women mould opinions,
where else but in the kitchen,
nurturing, washing, listening,
dishing wisdom with love.

We women are cloaked
in many roles,
politician, clinician,
villain, lover, mother, cook
smothering all under our cloak.

We women suffer more
due to our nature, we're also tougher
than a right hook!
Duck next time women are driven
to anger.

We women are the ignition
of life, love and understanding
we go by many names,
Mother, sister, aunt, wife and nan.
Our own name lost to time.

Would I want to be a man?
No.
We women are fruition,
we are magicians,
we are are giants in our own right.
© JLB
Bassam A Oct 2014
I miss your fragrance
when you walk by
It's amazing!!!
The scent alone
is nice but when
you add to it
your spice
it magical
I really love to caress
your hair with
my fingers
and let your beautiful
scent out
Women sit, or move to and fro—some old, some young;
The young are beautiful—but the old are more beautiful than the young.
Leah Rae Apr 2015
This poem is for the bitches.
The ice princesses.

Solid and frozen.
Hearts carved from arctic stone.
Jaw lines so sharp they could *cut
you.
Girls so bitter, *they bite.


Leave your mouth aching.

This is for the evil stepsisters,
The Ursulas,
The Queens of Broken Hearts -

I’ll tell you.
They are deadly beautiful.

They are the bossy, and the terribly too honest.
Mouths on fire,
jaws snapping,
man eaters,
sirens of the sea,
they will swallow you whole.

When the boys ask -
Tell them, no, I don’t need saving.

Fuck being a princess.
Be the dragon.

Be fire breathing, and pmsing.
Be angry, girl.

Cause you got shit to be angry about.

Every cat call –
Every glass ceiling you will shatter with your bare hands –
Every time you say the word no and mean it –
Every time they make you feel like you anything less than powerful.

You tell them –
You are eternal.

That you carry a generation in your belly -
That it all begins and ends here, inside you.

That you can bleed for seven days straight and come back with teeth sharpened for war.

Remind them that that when something is taken from you, you will do everything you can to get it back.

You will destroy what destroys you.
Eating fire and spitting brimstone.
And never, ever saying sorry.

They will call you crazy.
They will call you over emotional.
They will call you loud mouth.

They will ask for your smile, pretty girl.
Give it to them with poison ivy lips and a razor blade between your teeth.

What no body knew was that Ursula was King Triton’s sister.
A perfect storm.
Banished from the palace -
When a loud, powerful woman gets out of hand, we don’t call it leadership.
We call her dog.
Bitch.
Bossy.
Fangs out and snarling, we don’t battle, we cat fight.
Sexy kitten gone wrong, when she learns to leave scars.

A dog, no not a dog, a wolf in heat.
Domestication is a dirty word.

Bitch is to know your worth, and take it.

To carry it in your esophagus.
A war cry.
Feeding your enemies to your children, and coming back starving for seconds.

Doing anything to stay alive.

Because you were raised by a mother who fed you fear for supper.
Packed your backpack with mace, and brass knuckles.
She told you to turn your body into a weapon.
She knew there would be men who would try to cover your mouth.
So she taught you to bite.

This is how you protect yourself.
A mouth full of bitch, and a bark to match.
“Beware of dog” sign around your throat.

This is how you keep them away.
This is how you warn them.

Because the villain was not always the villain.

She was made that way.
You were made this way.

You’ve got brands still healing, still smoking, skin still searing.
You’ve got a trauma written in your blood.
You’ve got a ribcage holding onto your heart too tightly.

You are chasing down a revenge so sweet it could rot your teeth.
A heart attack romance asleep in your chest.

You will come back home limping after this war.

And you will tell all the other girls -

It ain’t all about the love story.
**It’s about the “being in love with yourself” story.
This is originally a slam poem, I am open to all feedback :)
Poetictunes Jan 2016
Can you help your black brother push even when he's stuck.
Can you pick him up even when he's down.
Can you build him up after society has teared him down.
Can you love him even after the world has hated him from over four hundreds ago.
Can you love your brother?
Because our black men need our black women.
They say women can't fight
Can't write good poetry
Can't create good paintings
Can't play sports
Can't work good jobs
Or do what a man does
I think they're afraid
Afraid that women might be better than them or equal in skill
Silly sexists
The world is changing
Changing for the better
I think women can influence history and the world like men can.
Self worth. The sense of ones own value or worth as  a person. So how much do you have? Shes thinks if I fit in and change the agenda then I'll be much happier then, than with what I already have. If they don't say I'm pretty or the crowds aren't pleased then do I have value? Like I can't be happy with myself but I need to hear it too. My life is more than what I can just make do. They have to tell my worth then it'll be true. If he doesn't tell me my value then is my self worth through. If I'm not cool today, famous tomorrow, then all my efforts right now have been in vein. I had a girl once who told me that she was happier being in a relationship, but every one ended up with no real valuing shift. She said if I just have a guy then I'll be more than just a petty thrift. If I have sex, and get wasted, ill be more than a girl in her parents basement. Not realizing her logic to that situation was misled and outdated. There is no question that your uniqueness is the greatest. Don't let the world make your self esteem so prostrated. Because I'll tell you that your worth more than the world and it should bask in your greatness. It was about that time she butted back in and said but I'm wretched and filthy a guy won't love me, will he? And I said that's what's amazing about self worth. As long you keep your head up then it doesn't matter what he thinks your worth. You were intricately made, a masterpiece of work. God made you perfect and righteous so how dare you say your worthless when he says you're priceless. Women are degraded but yet they are the very essence of our being. They are the seed of the earth that holds all its meaning. So don't be demeaning of how valued you are no matter if crowd doesn't find you worth seeing. You know that saying about giving credit, where credit is due? Well if that's true then I think it's about time to give women their rightful credit too. Because your the worlds greatest and wonderful masterpiece made in you.
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