Poem

Stop

By Alexis Norman

 

My nipples have been sensitive

Something I’ve mentioned to you a few times

You say excuse my

Playfulness

As if that was the issue

Then you stop

Move away

And I remain still

Looking out the window

Seeing the shape of the tops of the trees nearby

Playing my happy song

As not to remain somber

Instead of speaking

Because words hurt

But so do my nipples

I’m ashamed of my body

And of my silence

I think the situation over all day

To end with 

The right words to say

I’ll say

My nipples have been sensitive

 

Tattooed Body Parts

By Alexis Norman

 

I say it’s mine but I give it to them

I give to them and I am forever reminded

Work of art

That is not easy to deny

But to them I’m just a 

Difficult

Brown 

Canvas

The hands of a male puts the needles to my skin

But I would love for more women to poke me 

To have my flesh

To make me bleed just a little

The hands 

of a woman, artistically

My canvas is hers

 

Carmen

By Ashley Diaz

How can anyone ever think of a woman to be weak?

When I see years of hardship in my grandmother’s eyes,

With her rugged finger tips, hard and calloused,

But her touch, always as light as a feather as she tucks my curls behind my ears.

How is she weak, when I’ve heard the tales of hunger and abandonment and mistreatment from men, 

Yet with a voice softer than honey she tells me “te amo.”

How can I ever think of my mama to be anything but made of iron and steel,

When she’s raised 3 generations of hard headed women who don’t take no for an answer.

How can anyone ever think of a woman to be weak,

When my mama bled, screamed and cried for me to live the life I am living. 

Her voice hoarse from the battle, but her thin lips ever so gentle as she kisses my forehead. 

__________________________

 

To The Women

By Ashley Diaz

 

Who apologize for things that aren’t their fault

Who laugh, when men make them uncomfortable

Who were never taught how to say “no”

You were created from the broken ribs of Athena herself,

You’re equipped with glory and war.

The moon is waiting with rifles and bombs,

For we will reclaim what was taken from us.

We will fight till our bloodied hands feel victorious

– you’re so much stronger than your fears

_________________

A letter to my past self

By Ashley Diaz

 

There is not a thing I wouldn’t give for you.

 I know this may be hard to hear because you believe that your waking presence is a nascence and you’d be better off sleeping the rest of your life away. 

But I love you. 

I have never loved anyone more than I love you. 

And right now you might not feel the same about me, but we will meet in the stars and talk for hours and hours. 

I will make you laugh so hard the supernovas themselves will tell us to be quiet. 

you will see that you could never be truly alone, because I am always here.

Please don’t be so mean to yourself, you are growing and things may not be how you want them but you are perfect. 

Use your voice. 

Stop being so scared of being judged, and even now you are afraid but staying silent is a greater punishment than never being able to write again. 

Talk, you love to talk, you’re just scared no one will listen, but they will. 

You are hilarious and quirky and insecure and most of all you are pure sunshine. 

Your head may be clouded and gloomy and dark, but you, my love,

You are an exquisite light.

– I’ll be here in the stars waiting for you

 

An Ode to the Survivors

– Zyanna A. Rosado 

 

This is an ode to the women who have survived.

To the women who have been let down, torn apart, and crucified for their decisions

Yet having their work stolen from them, and praised, without permission. 

To the women who have been emotionally pulverized,

That have sat in their cars, bathrooms, bedrooms, showers,

And cried their eyes out for a good few hours, 

Just to step out and act like nothing ever happened.

To put on a large smile for the audience because that is what is expected.

 

To those who aren’t allowed to wear their heart on their sleeves because if they did, it would weigh them down,

In their feelings they would drown.

So they pack it up nicely, and tuck it under their belt. 

Because if you only knew what it felt like to feel nauseated, when you see how we’ve handled what you would have dwelt.

 

This is for the women who are resilient,

Irrepressible,

who,

despite the male driven world we live in,

Manage to always end up on top.

 

To the women who had their fathers break their hearts before any man could,

And were forced to somehow pick up the pieces.

While trying to stray away from finding security and love in other men. 

But it’s hard when you’re unaware of any better. 

And to the women who’s mothers didn’t set the best example to follow. 

 

For the women who have been groped,

Raped,

Abused,

But stay silent,

In an effort not to burden anyone with their troubles.

 

To the women that just want love

But can’t find it ,

Cause these men aren’t it,

And these women ain’t either. 

 

To the women who refuse to let a man touch them because the pain is too agonizing.

And to the ones who have put a different lens on their abuse, and use it to their advantage.

 

This one is for you.

This is to let you know that it is okay.

To let you know you are appreciated,

Loved,

Cherished.

That your hard work doesn’t go unnoticed

And that the pain you’ve hidden behind your smile,

Doesn’t have to remain there.

 

That these emotions don’t have to consume you. 

That there are others who feel the same way. 

That we have each other to lean on. 

Because I bet you never knew, 

That the women who sits next to you everyday and smiles 

Cries in the shower too.