I Am A Woman

I Am A Woman short poem

Photo by Joanna Bourne

I am a Woman,
…born from the ribs of a ‘Man’;
I am a Woman,
They say…I am Honor of the ‘Clan’.

I am Equal of a ‘Man’,
Very early this Comparison ‘began’…
God made me beautiful…so I can ‘rejoice’…
But very soon they made their ‘choice’,
to protect me from ‘Tan’…,
from sun, wind, and lust of a ‘Man’.

Daughter, Sister, Friend, Wife and ‘Gran’,
All roles, —–I adore ——–and ‘I can’;
Give birth to a ‘Man’, protect my child, and hold his ‘hand’….
Yes…all the pain, I love and I do ‘withstand’…..
Yet…always for me…its they who take a ‘Stand’.

Marry me off—–to a distant ‘land’…
This, they do as quickly as they ‘Can’.
For that’s my ‘destiny’….and they save every ‘penny’..;
to make the ceremony — very ‘grand’.

Masters of my fate…they keep changing ‘hands’…,
so I don’t return…even if it gets very ‘bland’.
I embrace every change…I learn every ‘rope’,
Responsible, capable and full of ‘hope’.

Home and outside, Land and Space…all I can ‘Man… .’
Yet those who ‘care’ …are always full of ’ scare’.
Join hands…they often do…to ‘Pry’…,
all the time…busy keeping an ‘Eye’…
And ever shouting loud,…“Ban, Ban, Ban “….

I am a Woman,
…. born from the ribs of a ‘Man’..;
I am a Woman,
They say…I am Honor of the ‘Clan’.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (2 votes, average: 2.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of


Woman prose poem

That essence Those hands, that body that caresses who breastfeeds us that gives us life starting an eternal struggle who always leaves his teachings Their loves his consolations That essence that multiplies in the sister, in the aunt, in the


Woman short poem

allow me this privilege of seeing you in , the unlit room in a chilly night, alone and guiltless, as night unmask your face, assumed Venus in the cowl shawl, splendor on the door it would admit, the dream of

Tin Woman

Tin Woman long poem

Of all things sentimental. She came through the door wearing a suit of armor. The door closed behind her with a rattle and tick of swaying arms. With rust around her eyes she longed to be melted down. A drop

The Odyssey Of Hill Woman

The Odyssey Of Hill Woman prose poem

For ages, her life has been A journey of endless strife Most of the times unrecognised Generation after generation Beautiful as a part of nature itself In whose lap she is born and brought up She grows up to attain

First And Last Woman

First And Last Woman prose poem

She is the first and last woman; Her hair is one thousand color waterfalls, nature briefed in her two almond eyes, her eyebrows two gardens riding on astonishment whispers, her cheeks two apples rolling down from Paradise always fleeing away