#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.

[jofayewrites]

NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS FILM

the terror of the snake in the original friday the 13th. shelley duvall in the exhausted haze of kubrick's vision. the suffering of creatures at the hands of men. who destroy for the sake of their art. blood not theirs does not come at a price. it is a natural phenomenon, the price of genius. at the end of it all we get our scream queens and the men get their oscars. they can heave their victory against their wives who do not cum. drink and belligerently create their next sequel. snort coke through their hundred dollar bills. they do not care about the blood of innocents. after all. isn't it natural for a woman to be covered in it?

[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.

[thediaryofarevolutionist]

- Simone de Beauvoir „the second sex“

She is literally describing me

[moon-kissed-corner]

The painting Lady Lilith (1872-73 version), and the accompanying sonnet Lilith/Body's Beauty, by painter and poet Dante Gabriel Rossetti.

The painting and the sonnet form a pair with the Rossetti painting Sibylla Palmifera and sonnet Soul's Beauty.

[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

[1500swhore]

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

-Meggie Royer

[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.

[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…

[yehamj]

I often think about how mothers lose their dreams, their passions, and even their sense of self once they enter motherhood or marriage. So many women, once married, seem to lose the light in their eyes the fire that once burned with ambition, curiosity, and desire. Their purpose is no longer their own. Instead, they are expected to live for someone else, to sacrifice for someone else.

In this world, mothers are rarely seen as individuals. Their identities are stripped away, replaced by the singular role of caretaker. They are no longer who they once were; they become somebody’s mother defined not by their own existence but by their relation to others. The girl who once dreamed of achieving great things, of carving out her own path, sees those dreams halted the moment she becomes a wife, and even more so when she becomes a mother.

Society expects her to put her own aspirations aside to quiet the voice inside her that once dared to want more. She is told that her purpose is now to nurture, to give, to provide warmth for those around her, even if it means extinguishing the fire within herself. And so, bit by bit, the world takes from her, without ever asking if she wanted to give up who she was in the first place.

[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.”

[dy-mph-na]

Pomegranates are for lovers

[thisiwilldecidelater]

"Every woman

is a feminist until

she falls in love

with a man."

-Gauri.