Women poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of women poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on women are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
“O you woman! Why do you after all submit To who that ever hurts and hits, Causes you only sufferings Distresses are his offerings. And gives you nothing Except tongue-lashes And choicest accusations? What after all do you get From
From inner room to open field, from kitchen countertop to office desk, her travails remain the same. Everyday she tells stories that draws tears from hearers’ eyes, unceasingly, stories that elicit sympathy-she relates to her listeners; beyond description account on
The women on the stage have become a Shaker community I like especially how they make me believe in their imperfections when they talk act together softly squabble each with a unique inner light I’m enchanted by seeing who they
She gave us life. She will be someone’s wife. She is a girlfriend and someone’s best friend. She is a sister and a survivor to the end. When you struggle she pull you through and help you again. All of
O Girls, O Women, Be Aware Mental Perverts are roaming everywhere , here and there, Their Outer Appearance resembles like a human being, but they are far from human and most WILDER then Wild Animals. So it makes most difficult
This heaven is a pretty maid living in the Dark Age, With minds of the moron, hearts of the fool, crawling into her cradle of tears lying in waste, And she smiles, emotionless clusters in full. As the bleak eyes
Facing the wrath of the blazing Sun, She, with her tangled hair, toothy smile, deeply lined face ; in a coarse cotton and battered bag, walks through the lofty gates of a mansion ; A fine blend of art, wealth
Women live by heart Men live by their heads. Former is close to Nature The latter aims at assets. Women’s path is of love Men’s is of meditation, Former flows out of heart The latter from concentration. Women tend to
“Man is born free. But, Everywhere He is in chains.” Woman, is never born! Birth is life… She is only gifted, with a pair of machines… We call those machines ‘Eyes’ on a man’s face! Unbreakable, indestructible Chains are made
Deathly silence enveloped the vicinity As tears welled in every eye Stirred every heart,soul and mind That photograph and that beautiful face Thrown out of existence By inexplicable desire and malevolence Now cast a ghostly radiance In the light of
Little miss heartbreak, you’d give her your time, ’cause if you’d want to get with her, got to get in line. Pretty miss heartbreak, she’ll leave you all the clues, But don’t you look so eager now, you’re only going
Pretty soul with mysterious memories A treasure to discover through the troubles A deep ocean to swim and dive Spreading fast virus to never ending love The cause of heartache and hypertension Unsolved case without understandable emotions Romantic creature with
lucky are those women, who are married to someone they love. lucky are those women, who are free to be themselves lucky are those women, who are told YOU ARE SPECIAL lucky are those women, who are told YOU ARE
The fair sex Taking care of self In her own ways Making up herself. The womankind Surprises entire mankind Self-defining muliebrity Softness and effeminacy. Still tough to toil In and outdoors But fully satisfied Needing no more. Self-dependent And self-reliant
Before going , the despair suffocates our love and pumps depression doses in kisses In our addiction We lived together the brightest eras of love The addict lovesick was attacked by infection After the end of love I gave up
She looks into the crystal clear surface of the mirror An exhausted girl stares back with bland brown peepers The delicate carmine threads interlace with terror As she discovers she has become plumper The cellulite bumping up beneath like little
Monitoring for movement, scanning expectantly for signs. Electric eyes, barely blinking. Knowing the prey and her hiding places. Prowling the night, thoughts blacker than the surrounding darkness. Staccato stalking, sleek and streamlined, she smells the air. Nervous nose, almost aquiver.
Crying to know Desperate for answers Screaming silently No one knows The uncontrollable tears The fighting within oneself Why her? What did she do? A secret so disturbing Being told no one will believe you A cycle of abuse A
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
The full Moon is on wane Shedding her last attic glory on Earth And every aspects of Earth’s being Scorched too much in blazing Sun, Enjoying the Moonshine bath like budding spinsters Drenching in swelling teenage mirth. The air is
You’re making eyes,while I make up my mind. Thinking of ways how I’d make you mine, You play that little game where you keep me guessing, You leave me wanting more so you’l keep on teasing, All i need is
My name is Richa… Does it really matter?! It could’ve been Mala …Seema…Sita..Nirbhaya or even Chabili.. In the end I would’ve been married to a much older man.. or abandoned after impregnating in a forest.. I wash utensils …clean floors..