Feminist poems bring the best collection of short and long feminist poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great feminist rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these feminist poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on feminist are here for you.
A herd of Chicanos is on TV thanking some mike on a stick Complementing my all pill breakfast It’s time to write clinical sonnets to girls in biology The looming plurality of entendres hopefully penetrating their big hair They don’t
Has someone made you smile? Ever so quietly That your heart sang a song Deafeningly …. Carelessly Has someone touched your heart? Ever so gently That joy wet your eyes Emotionally … Selflessly Has someone lead you on, Ever so
Just an observation, To the moment close by; Your eyes sneaking out of window, But mine are stuck to thy. A strange feeling, Afraid, don’t know how to make a move; Waiting to get a glimpse of your Ming, Just
Put off the lantern. I am waiting for the moon’s primal face. The lesser flamingoes were going to shed the pink color. Nude as a python, the kiss of pomegranates, kills by asphyxiation. I suffer in the hands of protests.
Like a beautiful woman standing tall, wrapped with a shawl amidst the mist; there exists a seine between what is & what can’t be! And though it’s made up of mere words; it keeps one safe from rash assertion! Like
I love thou not, o land of high hypocrisy, My country of the totalitarian democracy! I’d rather not hear thy people’s speech Or behold thy men’s disgraceful binge! I love thou not! If thou be a chariot, Old steeds are
Walking in the bush, late in the afternoon: Spring winding trails Among Plantae et Animalia. An independent world —Sort of realm of alien species Welcomes your senses with a storm of small flies (genus Drosophila) Which playfully floods the air,
Time capsule in gangrene foot. It was madness of the legs. There were no sins in the ghetto. Only illicit distillation and girls changing the beds. It stinks when he says he was god. What was the ism of the
A school in a village without any pastel – Divine Child which never cares for riel Strives for excellence. Does propel The children upwards and rebel Against injustice gigantic or sea shell; Strives to let its stars and carvings excel
Brainy you are Brainless I am Happiness gifted to you Sadness purchased by me Tears of Joy flow from you Tears of sorrow flood from me You have reached the skies with resounding success I have bitten the dust with
Is it really, ‘just how it is’ in the world these days? Too fast, too bright; too hyped! With an insatiable me, me; me attitude! And there is always so much noise. People in cars, people in trains; people in
Desire, an ever burning coal within us awaiting to be fuelled by a lover or fame or money for others An unquenchable thirst for touch and breathless acts of pleasure Desire, the dreams of devils and angels A driven force
Sadness mostly breaks upon the horizon it slips into its coma unless you awaken it with a light you carry it like a dead weight a burden inside you. push it all you might but sadness comes again. Let me
In touch with my inner feelings, The emotions of loving and being loved, Spanning from admiration to adulation, Reflecting all diversity of love, With a silent glance, Eyes speaking volumes. A gentle whispering kiss, I flap my wings to soar,
An individual can create a movement, so large and monumentous, it swallows deprivation whole. Fulfil missions from God, for family friends, and even foes. Angel of darkness, do not misinterpret though. Not crazy or lazy , step back and listen
HEART ON HAPPY PLACE is your kiss on my lips The tender touch of your hand upon my face The way you hold me tight, every morning, Every night oh it’s like some kinda fairy tale Romance, love heaven sent
A monster from a tree jumps and runs around the bushes to mate. A blank statement is issued. The system groans and collective pshyche fails. A stark silence for the food for thoughts. I sit down to meditate- to find
Can you hear the rustling in the trees? Can you feel the warm breeze on your face? I hear the singing of my friends, I feel their delightful presence. They are out there on the fields, dancing in circles with
Sometimes I sweat, thinking of my fortune My melancholy is subversive and my melody boring With a firm hope, I wait for the time opportune, With the help of poetry and love, I’ll do my soul’s cleaning. The river is
All seems normal Perhaps it’s so too. Yet there is a missing sting Of a blank. Or is it a mirage? Hopes and wishes Converge in tandem A tinge of bliss breathes With no clear touch A drop of deprivation
Sometimes I just sit and observe its serene soft white splendor It makes me calm, tranquil and peaceful and full of vigor Its pure white glow makes everything look calm and nicer Even people’s faces look friendlier illuminated whiter It
So much Krisnachura was strewn on the path, we stomped on them, wind was tousling— so sweet, like a lovely woman, musk of wild champak. The perfume reminds me of exquisite palms, deep coiffure and wild dreams of night. Then
With values life will get aid And illicit, bad, nature preyed, Without them we remain maid Who follow like weeds swayed. Are we void of them paid? Yes, but temporarily laid, Laid with burden and stained. With values we are
Moon of gold and a storm on the horizon My cape like gossamer wings in the wind Oh starlight, star bright first star I see tonight Send me somebody to love before the reaper Comes and takes my life… Well
Folks say, one should engrave his name in the list of great people. But a voice inside me says, it’s fine to be good enough, to live a simple life. My parents expect me to become a millionaire and tour
Exfoliated, I come to you, to scratch the blighted palace of the body, where a god lived once. Dervish, when did you stop whirling? The tomb is gone, the shroud tattered. I am collecting the withered roses. It rips open,
It has weakened my body, Made me a slave of medication, A mockery of the society, Isolated from others, Have missed childhood games, Missed the love of my age mates, Always on treatment, I feel like an experimental object, So
Where do they come from? The brain is complex, of that there’s no doubt. Neurons, synapses, dendrites and axions, all woven together to make up our brain Somehow, from this complex mess we emerge, our consciousness our mind, all this
His mind was cultured for vicious activities, His passion criminal perfections and dual identities, His soul lingered on malicious immoralities, His goal to torture and destroy individualities. He stood on the gateway with a loaded gun, He opened the gate
Stone A gust alive; a redwood dead Sleep softwood your peaceful breath A gust dies Stone in stillness; still, revealed From emptiness a gust begins, like water, carving the stone around A grain of sand, unknown, found Reach for the
Listening to nothing in my ribcage I see the void growing deep within Playing catch with blame and misery I bleed sense unto past memories. I am machine a part of me is a soldier enlisted to serve broken dreams.
Dreams never stay the same, They change frequently. Your goal is not a game- As others would see. From an athlete, To social service. You don’t compete- But you never miss. Once those become an illusion, You’re finding new dreams.