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aphrodites-serenade · 2 months

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Bystander

Last year, there was a senior who caught my eye

A tall girl with bleached ends and painted dark lips

Thin brows but thick eyeliner

An expression that teased hundreds of secrets

Talked about wanting nails but always chewed on the ones she had

Laughed a lot with the girl seated next to her and rarely smiled at anyone else

I never knew more than her name and the face of her boyfriend

I wondered why out of the many boys, she'd chose one who looks like any other plain boy

A boy with no real power but lets you know that if he did, you'd never see the light of day again

A boy that cares nothing for the feeling of a girl, only what he can take from her

A boy whose first reflex when he gets you away from your friends is to slap you

I sat in my parents' car, watching and asking myself over and over again

Why, beautiful girl, did you choose him?

Even I know I wouldn't deserve you

But did you not think you could do better?

Were you taught to be quiet, too?

I should've asked at some point

After graduation, I never saw her again

But in my mind, she's walking in a field of flowers,

She's smiling and laughing with that friend who, like me, always watched from the sidelines…

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ghostinxgiaw · 1 month

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╭─────────╮

M A R C H

╰─────────╯

the earth slowly blooms a new spring , and I am still.

could I ever fall in love again? . . .

life is moving on and the wind from it is almost blowing against as I round my corner

locking away my past or trying to heal from it was last winter's war .

Ive chosen to live for today, hoping for a better tomorrow

as the rain starts to settle, I feel my heart skip over and over, confusion creeping over me

I ask again , could this be the one? . . .

how to admit the fear in your stomach from digging up old senses of love? deja vu whispers to me once more. what it was once like to first fall and feel like you're soaring.

would I be able to let myself bloom?

the sun starts to peak through the grey clouds, and feel its rays spread kisses over my skin

I've been thinking of someone new all day

if the waves were to crash against us, could we stand still? shore being the home of the world's dreams. how wonderful would it be if everyone was free, like we could be. . .

to be a human is to be hesitant

to be a woman is to build walls around your heart

to have pain is to never forget the hurt

but our dreams prevailed all

come and find me

I dream to see what happens next, as the trees rebirth our ground and the air becomes light

tonight, under the moon, dreams will be the safety. and maybe, someday, me and him can walk together

- Opal

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allisonspoems · 11 months

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all you ever did was make promises and chose to not keep them.

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jlmichigan · 11 months

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“She sat at the back and they said she was shy,

She led from the front and they hated her pride,

They asked her advice and then questioned her guidance,

They branded her loud, then were shocked by her silence,

When she shared no ambition they said it was sad,

So she told them her dreams and they said she was mad,

They told her they'd listen, then covered their ears,

And gave her a hug while they laughed at her fears,

And she listened to all of it thinking she should,

Be the girl they told her to be best as she could,

But one day she asked what was best for herself,

Instead of trying to please everyone else,

So she walked to the forest and stood with the trees,

She heard the wind whisper and dance with the leaves,

She spoke to the willow, the elm and the pine,

And she told them what she'd been told time after time,

She told them she felt she was never enough,

She was either too little or far far too much,

Too loud or too quiet, too fierce or too weak,

Too wise or too foolish, too bold or too meek,

Then she found a small clearing surrounded by firs,

And she stopped...and she heard what the trees said to her,

And she sat there for hours not wanting to leave,

For the forest said nothing, it just let her breathe"

Unknown

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#This was so beautiful i had to share #womenempowerment #women #women poetry #tree carving #tree art #carving #woodcarving

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goneahead · 1 month

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The Lost Land

I have two daughters. They are all I ever wanted from the earth. Or almost all. I also wanted one piece of ground. One city trapped by hills. One urban river. An island in its element. So I could say mine. My own. And mean it. Now they are grown up and far away and memory itself has become an emigrant, wandering in a place where love dissembles itself as landscape. Where the hills are the colours of a child’s eyes, where my children are distances, horizons. At night, on the edge of sleep, I can see the shore of Dublin Bay, its rocky sweep and its granite pier. Is this, I say how they must have seen it, backing out on the mailboat at twilight, shadows falling on everything they had to leave? And would love forever? And then I imagine myself at the landward rail of that boat searching for the last sight of a hand. I see myself on the underworld side of that water, the darkness coming in fast, saying all the names I know for a lost land. Ireland. Absence. Daughter.

~~Eavan Boland

#eavan boland #eavan aisling boland #irish poetry #women poetry #goneahead reblog

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marinavarshavskaia · 1 month

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anger can ricochet

you ain’t lucky enough to be on my side

but you still make me feel like i have to hide

don’t you know, don’t you see? i was born to shine

whenever i cross or don’t cross the line

whenever i’m vulnerable or in control

whenever i run or withstand the fall

cause how can you own me when i’m on my own?

what to lean upon? you have no backbone

you act like a teacher i’ve never liked

you act like you’re rude only out of spite

and you’d rather die than keep your own word

until i’m no longer upset and concerned

until i’m no longer resentful and hurt

have you heard? ain’t the second and ain’t the third

if i’m not number one then i’m probably gone

if it’s done, then it’s done, you won’t get what you want

have you heard? i can still reconstruct your fate

it’s not gonna feel nice, it’s not gonna look great

a mistake you regret, but the one that you’ve made

ain’t it funny how anger can ricochet?

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brownsugar4hersoul · 5 months

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“I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.”

― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

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magicalantiquity · 1 year

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Or was my rage my mother's? Or her mother's? Or hers? An inherited creature?

Lidia Yuknavitch

#letter to my rage #poetry #poems and quotes #women poetry #women writers #literature #poetic #quotes #beautiful quote #poem #books & libraries

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mal731712 · 8 months

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#daughters #women #girl #sister #poem #women empowerment #women poetry

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starsandsaturnn · 2 years

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No matter how much she wants to scream, the words get caught in her throat. Like a heated pot of liquid fire, they bubble and burn causing tears to sting her eyes.

“Her moods so are unpredictable,” they mutter.

She spares them of being burned by her own flame, but even that mercy is considered petty.

The tragedy of the daughter.

#poem #poetry #daughter #first born daughter #immigrant daughter #woman #women #women poets #women poetry #female #feminine

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aphrodites-serenade · 2 months

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Men and what doesn't belong to them

The price tag is at $30, too overpriced for a simple doll

The sky is pitch black by the time I leave the mall, my hands empty-handed and freezing

A breeze of air sends strands of hair onto my face

A buzz emerges from my back pocket

Where are you?

I turn off the screen, I can't be seen distracted, especially at night

It's like my mom's warnings are screeching against my ear

She tells me of men who hide in dark alleyways, biting like dogs at woman's feet

She reminds me of how my cousin was dragged by one of those dogs, how her eyes don't glow like they used to

She walked too much like a woman, that's why they caught her, she tells me

Because they can't blame her for her baggy clothing

But how do I tell her that my father is like those men?

Pulling her wherever he pleases, dressing her how he sees fit

It's as if the wedding certificate, buried inside a memory box, is the same thing as the receipt that's pushed by the wind

I walk briskly under the street lights, my heart beats loudly every time a car slows down

Even if I'm in the middle of a crowd, it'll only give me the illusion of safety

I wonder if my friend felt helpless, as my 4th grade teacher hugged her tightly, knowing everyone's eyes were on her

I heard of a story on the radio with my grandma once, of a woman who was sold as a child to a much older man

She sighed. Thank God, we aren't in that wretched country anymore.

I couldn't find it in me to tell her that this happens everywhere, even in the safety of a “first world country”

I look at his message one last time, knowing I'll never see his picture again

If you don't answer this time, I swear I'll ki—

I should have known that he was like every man, poor, rich, old, and young, with what doesn't belong to him

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ghostinxgiaw · 6 months

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"The Scorpion's Love Story"

-O.

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allisonspoems · 9 months

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you didn’t make the rain go away,

but you did hold the umbrella over my head so i could bare it.

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gmkorry · 1 year

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i never thought i was hateable

until an old friend said im breakable

which makes men thinks im in ruins

and shouldnt be obtained

maybe its because i cant sit still at a table

or because i make up fables

i dream in my dreams

and of a true life im certainly not capable

i think its a crime

to be so vain

but its what ill become anyway

the years passed by and i was still stuck in my dreams

the tears fell down my once radiant cheeks

and i looked him in the face

i am not a dream you can chase

no time or work is worth my embrace

i will not be beaten, misplaced, or replaced again

i will not let you in

#poetry #sadgirl #sad poem #sad poetry #women poetry #heroine #heroine chic #coquette #writers and poets #poems #original poem #my own work #lana del rey #mental illness #blue banisters

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victoriaviolent · 1 year

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#feminist #poetry #women poetry #feminist poetry #womanhood

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virginsuicidesworld · 1 year

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I am made

and remade continually.

Different people

Draw different words

From me.

-Virginia Woolf

#virginia woolf #poetry #women artists #women poetry

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