Feminism poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of feminism poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on feminism are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Oh! My mother, sues thy sole cell daughter, An unborn baby, before its loving lover- Prays it to dad, thy, my best creative will- “Let me come, not look at me- thy angry shrill!” Oh! Doc. You dog! You dig
The hoot of the train was shrill enough to bring me back to my consciousness, With eyes half shut I could see the sunrise albeit my body was in oppressive soreness. Thankful was I that the night was over, And
You blessed my solitude, Like a heavenly melody. With the warmth of your embrace, You showed me eternity. My memories are made sweeter, With your presence. My life is now divine, Since you are so pure. You, my greatest truth,
Cannot decode the signature of fear beneath the huge eyes, serene and calm, darting right and left, like a stricken animal at frenzy. Drift we must; will seldom cross the path. Agony of existence, flying thighs, erect humps, sliding on
The pitter-patter begins on a cue, To leave behind shiny drops of dew, Sparkling with their many colours and hues, The smell of fresh green grass comes alive, anew. The quick drops splash down, Ridding the city of her hot
She surfaced from the blue sea like Aphrodite’s child in all her splendor droplets of water sparkled on her body as if she were covered in precious diamonds. I walked over and offered my name she submitted hers so willingly.
Forever amazed of what is happening in the world today Glaring eyes at sights, ears pricking to what people say Many events enlighten us, interesting plethora of choices Variety of feelings comes within, focused on telling voices Becoming more learned
They weren’t as bright as they used to be, Slowly chipping off the wall Faded and dying In the form of broken crumbs Of coloured plaster. Intricately separated by a line of black Throughout their lives They realized their lifelong
Leap Year and Jupiter in good favor Everything is changing now for the Better…all the dreams I’ve dreamed Forever are all finally coming together Just like a heartbeat louder than thunder In the icy wind of late Winter…three decades In
A magical icy place full of falling snowflakes that look like little diamonds as the sun’s bright light touches,them making their designs glow as they gently glide to the ground, I can see little baby polar bears hiding in the
Been a Christian, been Jew. A Mormon and a Muslim too. After walking each path, finding none quite right, my eyes opened wide to true simple light. To love and hear compassions sweet song, it was spiritualism whispering all along.
Walking in, the bedroom smelled earthy and human a fog of earwax hovering over the thin, crumpled pillow gray-green unwashed sheets. there were no posters taped to the dark paneling that ate the light and hung like poisoned chocolate. there
Between the tremors falls the face in a glass of water. Sometimes false teeth reverberate through the pages of history; devastation sinks in. A faun rubs the landscape. Hatchlings come out when death-music stops. A miracle tends to quieten the
Spirited Life is sweet morose life is sour calm life is steady Angry life is misery Smiling life is refreshing Condition of mind dependence upon one’s Life’s conduct If fickle minded , Life is uncertain If a happy mind, Life
That’s your song I listen to every night, foolish I feel and still I think you may come someday back to my surprise, That’s what you always did back then when you were mine, some sweet surprise. Those country songs,
The gentle creak of the suspension as i settle into the drivers seat, the sharp click of the key as it turns in the ignition, releasing the steering lock the metallic cough of the engine, as it starts up from
Beyond Death we cannot think Under the Bridge we go blind Not thinking I reach out my hand Until His hand takes mine. I’ll go through Life hopeful Thoughtless of things I will say Little known places, people, ideas Shaken
I feel the tiredness of my years, those quiet times when breath appears in melting mosaic imagery, upon the mirrors of a sea that only calls so many names, through pious sunlit tortured flames that scrape themselves away from light,
In mangled bodies and severed limbs, the blood gives up its claim. A twisted window blocks the landscape of silvered faces. Nobody talks with the moon. Night burns, the fat floats on the dead mouthings. Death has the foulest taste.
In the tiny truths behind the hidden words and blood streaked cheeks, you drink ozone in deep layers. I will count all my sins and light the candles in a row. On the pillow of moon, night slept in half-slumber.
Her beauty was captivating sweet of heart, flustered within shades of hazel searching still luster. She seemed adrift the tides vacant stare of sadness walking lovelorn shadows on mystic nights. She was perfect the other half of me, pertinent as
Movement spurts the truth- an endless journey. The constant search for beliefs creates confusion. Craving and wanting generates more conflicts. The meaningless life drifts. Can you go beyond your dreams, beyond your yearnings? I wanted to disagree with death the
I dipped my hand within my soul To stir the ebon ink And placed a smear upon the scroll Where loathsome mem’ries sink And write the script of heart’s lament With words from blank abyss In colors mixed with aged
I want to be free like music. Free like soft tones, melodies, voices, and patterns pulsating together. I want to wake up freed by music in mornings when the mind is slowly, steadily, waking up. I want to be free