#feminist poems

[bluetalepost]

i would never be a therapist because that's who i've been all my life. i wonder if i would ever let myself be a mother.

[aphrodites-serenade]

Think of me, a woman

My parents may have left their parents, siblings, and friends behind,

But they can not leave their old ways of thinking behind.

–

No matter what I accomplish,

My goals are scrutinized to the point that I don't bring them up anymore.

My existence is degraded and reduced because of the simple fact that I am a woman.

–

People with no knowledge of me think I should retire from my aspirations.

They'll list an "appropriate" title for me: Mother, maid, wife,

And demand me to be happy with only that.

–

Oh mother, you know I'm too boisterous to stay at home.

I am too disinterested in men to ever serve a “husband.”

And having children terrifies me to my core.

–

Regardless of where I end up,

I ask that when you visualize my future,

you look at me first.

Don't think of a man.

[glittergracie]

within you

Let me swim in your honey brown eyes

That watch me in carefully placed yearning glances,

That glimmer with iridescence in the spring light.

Let me hold your smooth warm hand

That tip-taps along the aged wood of this bench,

That seems to glow as you pluck a wildflower.

Let me touch your sun-kissed cheek

That you turn to me in nervousness,

That seems to hold your secrets.

Let me kiss your rose pink lips

That I know are warm despite the brisk air,

That call out to me through our silence.

Let me comb my fingers through the chocolate waves of your hair

That sparkles in the warmth of the sun,

That splays across the width of your shoulders in invitation.

[meanwhilepoetry]

Sing O goddess, of Hera's rage, how they vilified her for it, even if she was a woman betrayed. Sing O goddess, of Helen's desire, how everyone forgot she was the daughter of the most powerful God and that was what made the whole world burn. Sing O goddess, of Hestia's fires, how she left the cruelty of Olympus for a peaceful life - how she gave Prometheus the idea to steal the sacred flames for the mortal world. Sing O goddess, but not of Odysseus or Menelaus, Achilles or Agamemnon. Sing instead of women full of fire. Sing us the torch song which brings wildfire when Goddesses like you are ignored.

Nikita Gill, Great Goddesses 2

[thediaryofarevolutionist]

- Simone de Beauvoir „the second sex“

She is literally describing me

[1500swhore]

”A woman’s first blood doesn’t come from between her legs, but from biting her tongue.”

-Meggie Royer

[adeadgirlspoetry]

[bluetalepost]

there is shooting on the tv. and the heroine comes in, guns blazing, sexy and witty with all the right answers i wish i had or and the david attenborough type walks me through it so i learn something about american history british history, sudanese, thai, australian, mexican, yemeni, nigerian, peruvian, guyanese, haitian, turkmen, irish, palestinian, take your pick, any of them work or and when the names of the dead scroll i know every single one is younger than me or and i see in the background a neighborhood i used to drive through when i still lived in my hometown or and a reporter says the emts got shot at, i wonder if i knew any of them ems is a tight-knit community or and i don't get the appeal of these violent video games, i just remember all the articles i've read about how constant exposure to violent media puts children at risk for normalizing or gd forbid, engaging in violence themselves or and the police saved the day, actors are much more competent and movies are much more generous or i could shut the damn screen off. nobody is shooting at me here i'm going to make myself some tea

[aphrodites-serenade]

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…

[glittergracie]

fantasy

I dream of swimming through your golden honey eyes;

Parting the water with my hands as I dive in,

Feeling sticky stardust within my fingers.

Wriggling my toes in the tall warm grass,

Watching the fireflies dance at dusk.

Here is where you’re most beautiful,

This fantasy world only found within your mind.

[thegentleintellectual]

“It calms me to think of blue as the color of death. I have long imagined death’s approach as the swell of a wave—a towering wall of blue. ”

Excerpt From: Nelson, Maggie. “Bluets.”

[kyeomunism]

obsessed with paris paloma's entire discography, but one that stood out to me was "last woman on earth" from the cacophony album.

I've heard so many takes on the 'man or bear' discourse, and this piece of art is my favorite response. it speaks of a woman whose dying wish is to finally be respected.

I've heard of so many cases where men have violated even the deceased. this song feels like an outcry from the daughters of those victims.

she says she'd rather be with the bears, be burned, or be scattered in the oceans—anything rather than be buried in a grave where men can still find her. she'll get tattoos so her body will be considered 'ruined,' because only then will they leave her alone.

she says if you love her, wait for her body to turn blue and decay, so she'll finally be undesirable again. so that even in death, her body is still hers.

this is rage. this is girlhood. give my girl paris paloma the audience she deserves.

[adelaide-lemonade]

beautiful girls have slim thighs,

and an hourglass waist.

beautiful girls have perfectly lined eyes,

and lips with a sweet taste.

beautiful girls wear tiny skirts,

and even tinier tops.

beautiful girls don’t eat deserts,

everyday their weight must drop.

beautiful girls have clear skin,

and straight, highlighted hair.

beautiful girls are envied when summer begins,

with their perfect bodies in perfect swimwear.

beautiful girls are expected,

by men who don’t deserve them.

but no one can be this perfected,

which is why we must have feminism.

[queendom-of-quotes]

"Know your worth, then add tax."

Channeling this energy for the rest of the year...

[susansontag]

I adore this essay about emily dickinson and her place in feminist history by gerda lerner... you can tell emily is so important to her. from the creation of feminist consciousness.

[sinligh]

I woke up hyperaware of every inch of my body. A bone must be missing, a tooth or two my hair feels like an extension of the pillow that i hide my dreams underneath

And my head is too heavy with the weight of everything I said i will think about later…

Childhood, adolescence, adulthood

It all overlaps sometimes, and I worry that my childhood is all I’m going to grow up to live and relive.

I worry that it’s a punishment,

Like Prometheus; that I’ll spend my nights picking at it trying to cleanse myself from all that a young version of me wasn’t strong enough to process

only to wake up and realize I’m carrying it between my ribs again.

To be pregnant with another girl that will relive my life like I’m reliving my mothers.

I’m overthinking again

Stages of life like gates to the many graveyard’s that I have built inside me.

A sanctuary

A place of residence to all the feelings i had no time to over analyze.

I digged my phone from underneath the pillow, something must be said..

A phantom of the words that are trying to escape is at hands reach..

An Aura. A migraine.

Its 04:51 am. The sun didn’t rise yet, why am I awake again?

Thoughts are fighting each other for a way out, like a newborn waiting to be called by a name, any would be fine; as long as it gets acknowledgment.

On my way to the bathroom, i stumbled upon keywords

Some that I believe i missed the night before..

When anxiety was eating another pathway for itself. A way out, out of my brain

Necrosis.

I spent the past couple of months studying all that can go wrong in a woman’s body.

Starting from puberty highlighting child bearing period and ending with menopause.

It’s all prewritten

And I get mad with rage because improvisations are treated like a sin that can never be forgiven.

I watched women bleeding incomplete lives from between their legs, that without shedding a tear.

We’re used to that, aren’t we ?

Bleeding.

And incomplete lives.

Distant dreams of motherhood bleeding classic tragedies into an ink jar

to be hand written as another passage in the wrenching history of all the fabricated religious books that swore by women.

•••

•Quotes: Blythe Baird/ Paul Guest/Molly McCully Brown/ Uma Thurman/ Sylvia Plath/ Joel Coen/ Emily Rose Cole

•Original context: Sinligh

•Art reference:

1.painting by Domenico Induno. 2. Painting by Henry Asencio. 3.painting by graham dean. 4. Art by Patricia Cronin. 5. Art by Amelie, Maison d'art. 6. Spirit Body Consciousness by Byron Tik. 7. Painting by Francesca Strino 8. Charles-August Mengin (detail)