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Seazy Inkwell Aug 2017
She wants to become a girl again,
After two divorces, three kids and
pieces of heart blended
into the uneven daily affairs.

She wishes to be innocent once more.
To see the sky through her amber eyes;
To laugh carelessly down a penniless neighborhood;
To recollect the fragrant things she holds dear.

Where is the Anne of Green Gables?
Where is the Alice in Wonderland?
Where are Jo, Meg, Beth, and Amy?
Where did the flowers go to die.

She tells me she misses all the sunrise,
Gazing into a blue sunset,
The cooking that tastes no longer loving,
The perfume that smells no longer happy,
The loneliness that is no longer heroic.

She carries on, with her broken wings,
and the birth of a woman's concrete essence.
[sister poem--1|| 8/15/17
Lillian Teresa Apr 2019
How many times can a girl
Fake her way through self love
Until she ways with the breeze,
Carrying her image as if a lover - kissing?
3/22/19
Ella Downing Mar 2019
Funny
but not in a polite way
Witty
Daring
Razor-sharp
Basking in a round of warm-beer-belly laughs

Pillow soft
No-man's land
Lay down your weapons
on my shoulder.

Confident
Never bossy.
An everyday diplomat navigating courtesies
A heard point.

Attractive
******
On
   my
     own
       terms.
By
   my
     own
         rules.

Liked
or unliked
The choice is theirs
I have little time for it.

To be all this at once
or not at all
on my count

Take aim
Lillian Teresa Mar 2019
With my reflection-
She always wins

At least she is
Hollow
And cannot scream
Back at me

I am left to hate her
For the both of us
I must learn to love her for my soul
Sara Stasi Mar 2019
Time spirals upward
level after level
an ascension of ability.

Perhaps I smolder with inadequacy.
Lost angel in the female order
evading the ultimate aim
of a woman.

Some secrets are
a stained glass pane
a holy station of benevolence.

I was tempered
in the seething heart of knowledge
my soul knows past lifetimes

when I plunged chubby feet
into fur-lined boots
lit a fire to cook
watched smoke
circle upwards into night
heard our herd of reindeer
stamp and snort in the snow

prayed for strength
as winter prowled outside our goahti.

Finding myself poorly suited
for motherhood
I opted out this time around.
Inspired by the Tarot cards Three of Cups + Empress and a past life regression.
charly Feb 2019
Sir, in the white shirt and straw hat,
do not
mix me up with yet another blind man
who has the ability to take
one step at a time,

I am not allowed to take steps.
For I am a particle in the air
waiting to be caught and sat down by my mother
so she may teach me how to sit like a lady.
Stéphanie Feb 2019
Told my feelings were fake
Laughed at for crying
Brutalized for refusing
Depicted as anomalous
This is my "home"

I exploded, caught a breath as I felt the silencing

Crossed volatile environments
Misunderstood ephemeral friends
Bullied, ostracized
Experienced injustice
This is school

I performed, in the illusion of shutting silencing

Living my curiosity
Knowledge is my strength
Reflexivity makes me grow
Embracing my difference
This is my refuge

I introspected, in the freedom of their paralyzed silencing

Meet mind-like people
Discovered my emotions
Explored my preferences
Dug my family history
This is my travel

I free-fell, as in my trust I hit structural silencing

Communicating humbly
Nourishing healthy relationships
Trusting my positions
Affirming my autonomy
This is my womanhood

Becoming a mother, I urge to gather the pieces for her freedom
I wrote this poem after days of suffering from my mother's intrusion in my maternity… how she made fun of me and invalidated my thoughts, actions and desires towards my future daughter.
Kat Feb 2019
Mother tell me,
who do your eyes meet in the mirror?
wolf woman wife
little girl
and perhaps ghost.
Caddy did you love them
yes
yes but when they touched me I died
yes but when they touched me I died and was resurrected because a woman dies but comes back another just a change of costume so we can walk in our shadows and strut and fret again.
 
mother why is the mirror always blurry,
and why are the rooms all empty in this body
fortress sanctuary
that is made by the magic of transformation
Caddy the rooms may be empty but can’t you hear the music?
bird in a cage,
and its songs about longing to feel human.
Faulkner Forever.
Meg Feb 2019
i am not a woman
i am a slab of pink flesh
soft and smooth under your rough hands
my heart warm and alive and beating
fast fast fast
beneath your empty chest

i am not a woman
i am your excuse
with my breath too sweet
and my skin too inviting
drawing you in against my will
as you wrap me in your sin

Fools

too distracted by what i am not to see what i have become

i am fire
burning and raging and hungry for blood
i dare you to touch me now

i am a queen
my throne carved with the clay from which you moulded me
and as you kneel before me
head bowed
begging for mercy
praying to the god whose name you have screamed to bind me
i laugh
silly boy,
don’t you know your god is afraid of me?
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