Who'd be a Woman?
Who'd be a woman?
With hours of hair to dry
Chubby and insecure
Certainly i bellow
..........Not I! ...
Who'd fancy launching babies
As full as sumptuous ripe fruit
And listen to possible maybes
From hubbies in steel-capped boots
Who'd want to put on war paint?
Just cause the magazines push
Your ugly they say
Without hairspray
And a splash of red on your mush
Who'd want to be a women?
Certainly not I! ....
Im lumbered as the fairer sex
Minus a glint in my eye
I think i should be a man
Seems, more my cup of tea
A brush and a flick
A mirror check quick
And exit as fast as they can.....grrrr
poem by Karen Sinclair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Splash
I called you on the phone
You knew it was me all along
You didn't even say hello
Cause you don't need words to let me know
All the things that you do to me
You fulfill my every fantasy
Splash - I'm under your power
Splash - I could go for hours
Splash - You could devour me
And I'd only want you more
Oh, when you make love to me
There's things I never thought I'd see
I cherish [...]
[...] in every sea
Oh, I love when you play with me
Ask your mom if you could stay with me
Splash - I'm under your power
Splash - I could go for hours
Splash - You could devour me
And I'd only want you more
Our love is a rhythm
Together we'll have so much fun
You go from room to room
Leaving traces of your sweet perfume
If I could I'd bottle it
Everybody should know the feelin' I get
When I'm in your cool embrace
Your lips, your arms, your legs, your face
Splash - I'm under your power
Splash - I could go for hours
Splash - You could devour me
And I'd only want you more
I want you more and more and more
Splash
Splash
Splash
Splash
Splash
Splash.
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Whither Thy Art, Man?
Yes, men and women, paint their eyelashes,
And dye their hair in hues and paint their nails;
And wear head-bands, multi-colored sashes,
And paint the tortoises and shells of snails.
Some paint their bodies fully or one-half;
Some paint their country’s flag over their face;
Some look like leopards, lions, clowns that laugh;
Some tattoo pictures or paint words so base.
Some paint their naked bodies as if dressed
Or apply stickers of men, Gods or beast;
Their art on human skins looks to them best
And dance in ritual for a sumptuous feast.
The art of man has gone so crazy now,
For men paint Dogs, cats, cattle, also cow.
poem by John Celes
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Girls vs. Women
Girls are insecure; Women are confident.
Girls dress trashy; Women dress classy.
Girls are students; Women are teachers.
Girls are listeners; Women are preachers.
Girls makes babies; Women raise babies.
Girls have sex; Women make love.
Girls are weak; Women are strong.
Girls fight; Women walk away.
Girls argue; Women speak.
Girls give in; Women compromise.
Girls envy. Women appreciate.
Girls give up. Women strive.
Girls look. Women see.
Girls take. Women give.
Girls follow; Women influence.
poem by Christina E. Brown
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Women
Women behind bars, women in fast cars, women in distress, women with no dress
Women in airplanes, women who play games
Women in uniform, see that woman with her clothes gone
Women who satisfy, women you cant buy
Like women in magazines, and women in a limousine
Women who sip champagne, women who feel no pain
Women in a disco, and women who dont wanna know, no no
Oh, women wanting sympathy, women feeling extacy
Women who live in fantasies, bringing man to his knees
Women who boil to love, women who need a shove
Women who cant be beat, get that woman in the back seat, yeah yeah
Women in the usa, those women steal your heart away
Women into rock n roll, women who steal the show, go go go
Women that you write songs about, women that turn around and kick you out
Women you dream about all your life
Women that stab you in the back with a switchblade knife
Oh women, oohoo, talking bout women, all round the world
Yeah women, all the naughty girls, talking bout women, come on baby
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Making It Up
I have this deadly
jar, brush and blush
which applied
is called make-up
Such trepidation here;
I dip with foundation cream
eyeliner and brow trim
place in
my green contact lense;
hair filled out with
fall and curls
mouth plumped up
with mystery shot
red paint
24-hour guaranteed
and then my mirror
gazes back
an altered me.
I've just a little
push me up
under-wire
to lift and tuck,
and scents
swirl around my head
jasmine light
to accent the night.
My heels
make me tall;
my legs appear long
my smile is fixed
with whiteners
and straighteners.
My dress is
not low cut
but low enough
marble red
spaghetti straps
black bra
and panties
hose
full length
I am
ready
now
to find an honest man
of no pretense.
I know, I know
but understand
these are my armaments
the tools of
mating and marriage.
If I don't
they will
and I'll be the one
leafing through
magazines
at the grocer store
looking for dating tips.
Leave you not
misunderstand
some few
may do
without
any help;
but by definition
that's not
you and I.
You and I must
inch along
making it up.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Art Will Show To Eternity Your Soul
I am a woman, using a mirror everyday,
Like all of you, i'm seeing my reflection into it,
Even i am sad, happy, tired or bored,
What i'm seeing in my mirror it's my physical reality, my own truth.
I combed my hair and looked into my mirror,
I felt so delicate, unique and simple,
Having a smile on my face today,
My mirror will smile me back as feedback in same way.
I am a painter, i adore art,
In everything i'm painting it's life,
In each painting and spot of paint my brush does,
It's a history of great ideas my minds holds.
A painting is a gate to our inner side,
Through it vibrates the universe to our hearts,
A mirror will always show your face reflection to the world,
But art will show to eternity your soul.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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Spring Gathering
I'm wondering with my soul prepared feeling off and on
breeze within the springtime glare.I have met in my
mind a woman more fair-fairer than the bending green
of brooks, rare is her beauty never misunderstood.
Fairer than the mist over hills and mountains.
Fairer than sunshine on water when it sparkles.
Fairer than the sound of birds calling, mating.
Fairer than rapture of rivers running full force.
Fairer than trees with leaves of gold.
Fairer inside those dark brown eyes.
Fairer than raindrops falling from rooftops.
Fairer than a breathing bed of flowers.
Fairer than the most enchanting pools of the jungle.
Fairer than the sky in a radiant blue.
Fairer in heart than I could have ever imagined.
poem by William Blackman
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Paint Me Down
Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down
Im walking into studio
Consider strange appeal
Paint me in the home
Im brushing up on sketchbook
Designs for love unreal
Paint me in the home
Oil and skin youll need to buy it
Consider what I mean
She sinks beneath thr moving pictures
Prepare the brush for me
Im craving with this need
Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down
Im soaking up the surface
Conceaiving new idea
Paint me in the home
Shes oiling up her subject
But all still life is here
Paint me in the home
All the boys with framed dimension
A cover up on lust
Hell take his pain and paint it over
Prepare the brush for me
Im craving with this need
Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ugly Paint
crack
in the brush,
slice the line and tamper
the bold corner,
waste of time, comes
no regret of it fingers tips,
swollen thumb
with tailing nails of broken pieces
of color
folded
join together
and faded brightness of
Red and Green,
scattered Indigo pamper
the shape and form,
ugly as the skin touches the smooth
face of beautiful picture
of tomorrow's gone,
the guided stream of lines, blacken by its
careless hands of
touch
Yes!
a lasting way of just
an ugly paint,
pattern on me, cover and let the rain
of adoration of search for
an easily hurt get
of deception of hope; something
smarter than
a little boy and girl stand and push
beyond the paint of gain and grain of
whole
pieces of sweat,
pattern makes every paint seems ugly,
yet! it makes sense in me;
sphere revealing
painting you have been long leads
my home,
of what is today and the future
of my day paint goes on,
as the color
printed with its style and let
every passers-bye
says a sweet
good bye …..
poem by Antonio Liao
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Tiny Rhyme
Fish oh! fish
swish a miss
wish on hiss
shush to hush
Push push
oh! fish
flush a blush
fresh 'n' mush
Fish oh! fish
slush the gush
slash in gash
splash the plush
Fish oh! fish
pose to posh
rush a mash
fish oh! gosh!
poem by Mubeen Sadhika
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While Hair Brushing
Juliette drags the brush
through her hair you have
to brush it at least one
hundred times her mother
had said years ago and say
a prayer each time you get
it through and maybe God
will bless you and as she sits
and brushes her hair she
remembers her mother standing
over her when she was a child
and the hair was as long then
as it is now and oh God she
says how I hated it the knots
and tangles and the number of
times I used to cry each time
she pauses in front of the mirror
the brush held mid air sometimes
when she brushes her hair and
stares in the mirror she sees him
there looking at her as he did back
then watching her every move
his dark eyes greedily drinking
her in and once he placed his
hands around her waist and kissed
her neck how she cringed his spittle
still there her uncle his breath his
hands touching always when she
was alone and once when undressing
he came in and stared and said he
thought she was becoming a beautiful
young girl now she brushes her hair
again the brush stiff and heavy gripped
in her hand and as she stares into the
mirror heavy with times and care she
thinks she sees him still staring still there.
poem by Terry Collett
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There are times when I flick through magazines and think I'm in danger of becoming a prisoner of my own hair.
Chick Flicks, Just Won't, Get It.
You would probably have to put hot coals under my feet...
To drag my butt, into the sneak peek, of a chick flick.
I am a romantic, but spare me the gushing muck...
No such mush for me, not that mush, would I wish to see.
Not even if the admittance-were free...
Let me be, let me be.
Action is where I'm at....
Not viewing a film about a talking, baby, dog, or cat.
Comedy will move my feet...
That type of film, will be my treat.
Romantic mush...
Won't make me gush.
Only action...
Will get my feet like, attraction.
poem by Michael Gale
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Ardency...
ardency...
one day..
while she were in front of her mirror..
she saw another woman in that mirror..
standing and sharing her the same mirror..
got very angry to that woman whom shared her the same mirror..
gave up to her anger...
to smash so hard that mirror...
to fly apart many pieces of that mirror..
she realized then...
that she got alot of women...
poem by Hazem Al Jaber
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Check My Machine
(Spoken) Sticks And Stones May Break My Bones
But Names Will Never Hurt Me
Check My Machine
Check Check Check Check Check My Machine
Check My Machine
Check Check Check Check Check My Machine
(Repeat) -
I Got A Woman A Long Time Ago
I Had Trouble
I Want You To See What You Can See
Check My Machine
Check Check Check Check Check My Machine
Check My Machine
Check Check Check Check Check My Machine
(Ad Lib)
I Want You To Check Check Check Check Check My Machine Check Check Check Check Check My
Machine
(Ad Lib)
Check Check Check Check Check My Machine
(Repeat)
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Her Hidden Treasure
Her flame was only for the women –
Not for us unlucky men;
A weakness lay for feminine way:
To feel an even fairer skin
In silky slide.
Her lips were for the satin love that
Only flows from rising breast;
The creamy tan was not for man
To pull towards a chiselled chest
In weathered hide.
Her hidden treasure down below
Would shy away from macho length
And only rouse upon the blouse
Undone by other sapphic strength –
In time, inside!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Women Who Walk Like Men
They seem to be everywhere now,
women who walk like men.
With hair cropped in a paint brush,
bullets for eyes and knives for noses,
they walk long halls, hips so still
they can have no pelvis.
Then one day you meet one
and become her friend.
A week later you still wonder:
Are all the women who walk like men
wildflowers, really,
locked in a hothouse,
craving the sun?
poem by Donal Mahoney
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God Was Right
God was right when he made the women
Because men built house for the women to live in with their families
And he included a kitchen
But God knew that if the house had a kitchen the women would be better The whole night cooking for her family
And God knew that the kitchen was the perfect place for women
God was right when he made women so that they can have babies
And feed the babies milk from her breasts and change all the babies Diapers everyday
Because the only way babies communicate is by crying
And all the babies needs their naps
God was right when he made the women
So she could be there to do the family laundry also
And women's job is never done at home
Because as long as she lives she will be the slave of home
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Performance
One day he was admiring his reflection
in his favorite mirror
When he realised all too clearly
what a freakin' old beasty man he was
Who is? you is, you is now son
I took to hiding, I took to hiding
I took to hiding, hiding strange things
I took to dribbling, we took to dribbing down my front
I starting running, I starting running on the spot
Picture, picture, now i'm gonna eat your
Picture, picture, now i'm gonna eat ya
We're all food, your cake
We're all the food, your weirdos' cream
Quick quick, fast fast, quick quick, fast fast
I took to dribbling, I took to dribbing down my front
You took to hiding, you took to hiding strange things
One day she was touching her reflection
in her favorite mirror
when she relised all to clearly
what a freakin' old weirdo she was
Who was? She was, she is...
fast fast, quick quick, quick quick, fast fast
She took to hiding, she took to hiding strange things
I took to dribbling, I took to dribbing down my front
song performed by by Happy Mondays
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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SUICIDE, SLOW or FAST…
SIDS babies are the smart ones, they exit early
Adolescents step between cars for a quick out,
or drown in a neighbor’s pool
Teens have the most options with drugs, alcohol,
Anorexia, fast cars and access to guns
Middle-years get to pick from hundreds of prescription drugs, breast/ovarian/prostate cancers or a plethora other diseases
Elders get to have strokes, heart attacks, diabetes and the like
Suicide slow or fast…
No matter, as Death has great patience
poem by Ray Lucero
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