Women Poems

now she is blackened ink bled over starched canvas her cursive forms whisper elusive words too many nights wasted on uncomfortable men her eyes roll mouth breathing nicotine air she beckons to me through locked doors

Grant me freedom, the freedom of choice. Freedom to be born and the freedom of voice. Give me the freedom to do things on my own, Give me the gift of confidence, when I am little and when I am

I am a special gift when the lumens of my soul shine I am a friend indeed when my name is called with love I am a mother lion ready to pounce at the merest sense for mine…and for yours

I fell asleep in my chair I awoke and a room full of smiling women Looked at me With Death’s Stare I asked myself Am I dreaming? What are these women scheming? I fear my mind these women soon will

Child Marriage: Plights Before Me. Innocence in me, society betrayed, joy in me- society destroyed, wonderful future ahead of me society truncated. Child Marriage: Plights Before Me. Innocence in me, society betrayed, joy in me- society destroyed, wonderful future ahead

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

Leaves will grow out your chopped skin; Petals that peel off from that cut in between your legs, whispering fragrances through those shattered lips – Those bones knocking at the edges of your transparent envelope. Bird eyes, tainted livid –

I, girl am expected to carry this world. And, also I, a girl am advised to stay away from this world. These stubborn men never respect me, yet, they are the one who need me. I, a girl am the

The Butterfly has awoken And rightfully emerged from his cocoon What makes it so beautiful is Not the wings or image Of itself But the beauty of its flawlessness Mindset in this breath Taking shattering world It already being so

I can never understand how a man can treat a woman so bad, So bad to the point where she feels useless. I can never understand how a man can treat a woman with no respect. No respect to the

Find your place the back of the bus take what they give you don’t make a fuss do as they say not as they do follow their rules stay quiet too no protesting … no squeaky wheel go through the

For ages Saddled with Domestic chores Confined indoors With a traditional muzzle Devoid of a voice With fellow housewives We were sweltering Under the class And gender yoke Seen weak though We were strong as a rock. Things taking A

Women can hold up half the sky Thousand dreams rests in her eye Her heart is a fabric of emotions Where each thread is made up of love,joy and pure determination. Confidence and courage run through her veins, She is

When you visit a temple, could see scintillating sculpture Attention of your eyes, easily it may capture Sculptural forms of women, that shall grace, Standing of the ancient arts, apparent to trace They were cultural motif of celestial women Delightfully

Nobody likes me, everybody does too I’m not divine, neither are you. Why do you hate to hear about a daughter? And cannot make your brain broader! You have used me as a tool; Never allowed me to attend school.

Tables laden with stones and gems, Adornment for a lady and her hems. Cat’s eyes in necklaces, sapphires and rubies, Shimmering in oriental colors- Such beauties! Strange and mystical dark objects, Matched by inscrutable, smiling Nepalis. Eager to please and

I was scrolling through a few of the #MeToo posts on my timeline, when, I thought I’d bring a few questions clawing my mind, to the society’s attention – How could you throw the unassuming girl child to the ants,

To all the girls I have cared, respected, and loved before, You have showered me with great attention, I never experienced more. You were there on my ups and down; at my worst. If I can remember; I just sit,

Today, my friend, You mirrored those hurts, Those painful struggles, Those heartbreaks, sighs and cries, Yet, you hid your tears, Smiled, And even laughed, Cracking jokes, As if I don’t know What you helplessly tried, Dear dear friend, I know

When I walk out in broad daylight, I am immediately handed with “Stand up and fight” brochures, persuaded to download the Vithyou app, begged to join self defense classes to combat the raging thirst, of uninhibited audacious beasts. I am

Who am I? A pure soul who’s supposed to witness slaughtering of dreams and souls but never reveal for the sake of graffiti Who am I? A beauty to be shown off and endure every pain without a single drop

the watch tore the hair from his wrist he could smell coconut shampoo as in the time he’d been left to his sisters’ tender mercies they’d gone after him tweezers and paint prettied him up like a trout that had

They’ve got their arms up in in the air while she is tossing her her coloured hair If you’re going put in her a chair then she’s somewhat debonair But come stage time and she’s jiving from stair to stair

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

The way rapists minds have taken shape- A girl is to blame for her own rape, To these animals so lecherous What are we girls-strictly diurnal creatures? Rapists say,“Girls can’t step out at night, A girl attacked should quietly allow

A beautiful portrait of lovely ladies hangs in front of me in my workplace gazing at them I often wonder- – Where, where have we come from being them? ? Bejewelled, bedecked, beautified – -an epitome of adornment coy, silent.demure.humble

Just because your turn has not come, Doesn’t mean there is no future. Even though everyday feels wearisome, You haven’t seen the bigger picture. Don’t compare your race with another, Everyone has a different finish. Switching tracks, shoes, trying to

When I was a young man I chased them by the score. They were fast, young and lean. Conquest was my aim, seduction was the game. Procreation, I was playing with biology’s rules. I cared very little about much more.

Dear son, African American warrior, Reincarnation of the people of the Sudan. I hope you understand why 
I am writing you this letter. And 
hopefully, by the time you read it
 Race relations in America are a lot 
better than what

When I close my eyes at night there is darkness. When my eyes open in the morning there is light. I pray that the world will experience a brightness of fortitude where all men, all women, and all animals can

My room was the old garage attached to the house festooned with posters and dirty underpants my father’s Mercedes was a sacred relic with a flavor of old leather upholstery. It rested in its own building. there must have been

When she entered the temple of a man, She was seduced by his dark heart.. Well, only thing she could do is stand, And see her feelings fall apart. She is the pride of our homes, But her femininity was

God is a power, that humans cannot see. he is a power, that we cannot hear. but god is a power, that we can feel. he is the power, that controls the universe. he is the power, which sets our

Oh, my husband, he is too soft, giving everything, I ask, but not trusting me, keeping all savings, himself, And asks, “what is money for, am giving all that you need”; That’s not right, am wounded and so, don’t like

Sinners hurt. While moonlight cracks open like a walnut, spreads soft light across open sky, they dart to alleyways, bury themselves behind their own trails shaking fists at the sky; hiding their nasty nonsense in shame, city buildings rattle their

Gazing at the sky at night , I gaze at that one big bright star Which Reminds me of you, . So close but yet so far It hurts when I hear that song I don’t have the heart to

A motley group had made an affiliation of sorts It sprouted and mushroomed in our back lane And there was born a poetry club with no name Passion it was for the verses written in Urdu That linked them beyond

It’s one of those mornings that welcomes whiskey and soda with open arms. The Sun and I, more or less, feel the same way about getting out and conquering the world. ‘Well, it’s not our turn today’, we tell ourselves.

An Ode to Madurai People ask me, why do my teardrops fall so heavily on the sand? Why does my laughter not roll as the laughter of children, not roll as the pebbles down the river bed? Tell them. Tell

It Breaks my heart Rips my soul apart When every morning the newspaper reads And various news feeds, talk about Girls and women, young and old being savagely raped and killed or sold It breaks my heart Rips my soul