FEMININE POETRY & ARTISTRY
This year... 2011
by Shiloh Sophia McCloud
May you shine the light
that is yours to shine.
May you move through any fear that has
stood between you and your joy.
May you choose, unconditionally,
to love yourself and others, with a full heart.
May you find that inner peace, that we all seek,
and discover it has been in you all along.
May you, regardless of challenges,
continue towards your own dream.
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shilohsophia@gmail.com
Four Generations
Woman’s Strengths
author unknown
Women have strengths that amaze men.
They bear hardships and they carry burdens,
but they hold happiness, love and joy.
They smile when they want to scream.
They sing when they want to cry.
They cry when they are happy
and laugh when they are nervous.
They fight for what they believe in.
They stand up to injustice.
They don't take no for an answer
when they believe there is a better solution.
They go without so their family can have.
They go to the doctor with a frightened friend.
They love unconditionally.
They cry when their children excel
and cheer when their friends get awards.
They are happy when they hear about
a birth or a wedding.
Their hearts break when a friend dies.
They grieve at the loss of a family member,
yet they are strong when they
think there is no strength left.
They know that a hug and a kiss
can heal a broken heart.
Women come in all shapes, sizes and colors.
They'll drive, fly, walk, run or e-mail you
to show how much they care about you.
The heart of a woman is what makes the world keep turning.
They bring joy, hope and love.
They have the compassion and ideas.
They give moral support to their
family and friends.
Women have vital things to say
and everything to give.
Found My Voice
by Stella Funk Butler
The first time
I didn’t understand
I was much too young to know
who was the woman on the floor
she looked like my mother
I can’t be sure
I’ve had so many by age three
I cried “Mommy please don’t die”
as she lay upon our floor
what happened next is
too awful to tell
The second time
I didn’t know his name
didn’t know what he’d done
I watched and stood in terror
Not a sound came out of my mouth
He was as black as night
and is no more
The third time
I am told I helped bury him
I’m only six
hardly strong enough
to be of help
I do remember the shovel
in my hand
I thought I was burying the woman
I’m told it was a man
The fourth time
I see a field of many bodies
just outside my school
the alligators
will take care of them
The fifth time
It is I who lays upon the slab
I don’t know why they laugh
I’m naked, cold and scared
Somehow I’ve escaped the blade
but not much else
I have no voice
as I roll off the cement grave
into the woods I run
The sixth time
I have many sexual adult violators
too numerous to count
it’s a community thing
The seventh time
my own birthmother
defiles me
then frightens me
with a knife
Today
I am the daughter of many
by birth, step, foster and adoption
I feel blessed to be loved by so many
Today I’ve found my voice
I will not rest
Until those
who take another’s life
is put to rest
Like so many others
I’ve become resilient
God has restored
that which was stolen
“No more” I say “no more,
will another human take a life
as long as I have breath”
Stellafunk@aol.com
Woman’s Creative Being Creed
by Shiloh Sophia McCloud
My ideas are worth exploring
and my creative acts are sacred, worthwhile and valuable.
I answer the call to create
without feeling I am taking away from something or someone.
I know that I have something unique to say and create,
that is only mine to express, and so it is original.
I surrender my works of art being pretty, good or salable,
and let them be what they want to be.
I consider the "practice" of creativity equal to other practices
like prayer or meditation or exercise and I make time for it.
I share my creations only when I feel supported to do so,
not needing or seeking acknowledgement from others.
I release myself from the need to feel inspired before I begin,
trusting that everything I need to create will be provided.
I allow myself to release the critic and perfectionist with love and invite the muse to come to my side.
I accept the healing energy that comes from my creative acts,
as divine blessings from a source I call Creator.
I remind myself that it is OK to not know what I am doing, to trust the process and begin again as many times as I need.
I feel that creativity is a journey, and I honor that journey with my time, my resources and my heart.
I will be gentle with myself when I haven't taken the time to create, and I will begin again.
I give myself permission to be messy, loud, irreverent at times,
and at others to be quiet, orderly, mindful and to feel blessed.
I feel worthy of the title, Artist, just because I create,
regardless of what I create, or what the outcome is.
I am free to think my own thoughts, to have my own visions
and at the same time gather nourishment from those around me.
I feel that my life is a great adventure always looking for my YES,
and that my own journey holds the makings of personal legend!
I believe in intentional creativity; that the love I put into my work goes out as a blessing toward my intention.
I am a creative being, not a creative doing, and sometimes being creative is allowing myself to do "nothing" but the act of dreaming.
I believe that every bone in my body is a creative bone,
that my life is a miracle in process and that I am a creative being.
© 2010 All Rights Reserved... but share liberally!
Shiloh Sophia McCloud
BECAUSE I AM A GIRL, I MUST STUDY
by Kamla Bhasin
A father asks his daughter:
Study? Why should you study?
I have sons aplenty who can study
Girl, why should you study?
The daughter tells her father:
Since you ask, here’s why I must study.
Because I am a girl, I must study.
Long denied this right, I must study
For my dreams to take flight, I must study
Knowledge brings new light, so I must study
For the battles I must fight, I must study
Because I am a girl, I must study.
To avoid destitution, I must study
To win independence, I must study
To fight frustration, I must study
To find inspiration, I must study
Because I am a girl, I must study.
To fight men’s violence, I must study
To end my silence, I must study
To challenge patriarchy I must study
To demolish all hierarchy, I must study.
Because I am a girl, I must study.
To mould a faith I can trust, I must study
To make laws that are just, I must study
To sweep centuries of dust, I must study
To challenge what I must, I must study
Because I am a girl, I must study.
To know right from wrong, I must study.
To find a voice that is strong, I must study
To write feminist songs I must study
To make a world where girls belong, I must study.
Because I am a girl, I must study.
SELF CARE & SELF CELEBRATION by Shiloh McCloud
I forgive myself for not living the life I thought I would.
I forgive myself for not always being able to hear my own heart.
In between gulps of air I sip cups full of white flower clouds in white teacups.
I honor myself for risking no matter what the fears were.
I honor myself for giving my all, even when all I got did not feel like enough.
In between pressure cracks I sidestep volcanic lava in high healed cowgirl boots.
I grieve the days I lost by being too idealistic and not savvy enough.
I grieve the time I spent pursuing principle while losing precious ground.
In between the chorus of nay-sayers I continue to chant & rant yes-saying.
I lament the times I allowed harm to myself and others knowing or unknowingly.
I lament the times I could have chosen a clearer path but didn’t. Just didn’t.
In between the tears in my fabric Our Lady weaves a cloak of red threads for me.
Don’t worry. Being blue is allowing oneself to reach into the murky depths.
Don’t worry. Being blue is important to anyone who is reaching for the light.
In between the hibiscus blossoms I duck into coral pinkness to breath again.
I am sorry. I hear myself say to myself. To everyone. To you. To God.
I am sorry. I tell the flowers. The ground. The seagulls bickering at my feet.
In between memorized strums from a lone guitar I cry for my lost songs.
I love you. I hear myself say to myself. To everyone. And to God.
I love you. I LOVE YOU. And even this moment of bitterness. I love it too.
In between thunder clouds, I find my footing on that wet ground and do not fall.
You. Wherever you are right now. Whoever you are right now. Don’t give up.
You. My heart extends to embrace you right this moment right now. Now.
In between the cold bowls of sorrow we will find ways to steamy love again.
Find your moving on words and join the the moving on tea party.
Keep sipping until you reach the shore of forgiveness. It is here. Right now.
In between all the burned bridges and broken hearts – I wave to you.
Calling you. Here I am! With you all the while.
God listens to our whispered prayers.
A Child Bride's Tale
by Airyn R. Lentija
Only a stationary pain resides in her heart,
Like a tainted lake it never flows;
And though her all was torn apart --
His badness grows.
She wept under the bosom of darkness,
Built strong fences around her fears;
Her burning insanity stirred her weakness --
To save his ears.
Her tiny mind screened in malnutrition,
As it considered to need less food than his;
Of what she prepared she took less--
The devil's bliss.
Because her youth fled that day, at
Noon he pulled down her pants and wandered;
She begged the breeze to hear her plea, but --
He raped her.
She was fifteen and had a wedding ring,
Locked and frozen without mirth;
An infinity symbol of child trafficking --
A hell on earth.
He had owned her for few rupees,
And sold her organs to brokers;
Who bought her from her family --
The exploiters.
Airyn R. Lentija, of Philippine heritage, is a domestic helper in Hong Kong. Her life, like with many foreign domestic workers, has been full of responsibilities, poverty, hardships. Many of her dreams, as for advanced education, have not been realized. Her poetic talents have been recognized and published multinational. http://airynspoetry.blogspot.com
POEM FOR EARTH DAY & WOMENBy Jane Evershed
©2008 Evershed Card Collection. All rights reserved.
In Celebration of My Uterus
by Anne Sexton
Everyone in me is a bird.
I am beating all my wings.
They wanted to cut you out
but they will not.
They said you were immeasurably empty
but you are not.
They said you were sick unto dying
but they were wrong.
You are singing like a school girl.
You are not torn.
Sweet weight,
in celebration of the woman I am
and of the soul of the woman I am
and of the central creature and its delight
I sing for you. I dare to live.
Hello, spirit. Hello, cup.
Fasten, cover. Cover that does contain.
Hello to the soil of the fields.
Welcome, roots.
Each cell has a life.
There is enough here to please a nation.
It is enough that the populace own these goods.
Any person, any commonwealth would say of it,
“It is good this year that we may plant again
and think forward to a harvest.
A blight had been forecast and has been cast out.”
Many women are singing together of this:
one is in a shoe factory cursing the machine,
one is at the aquarium tending a seal,
one is dull at the wheel of her Ford,
one is at the toll gate collecting,
one is tying the cord of a calf in Arizona,
one is straddling a cello in Russia,
one is shifting pots on the stove in Egypt,
one is painting her bedroom walls moon color,
one is dying but remembering a breakfast,
one is stretching on her mat in Thailand,
one is wiping the ass of her child,
one is staring out the window of a train
in the middle of Wyoming and one is
anywhere and some are everywhere and all
seem to be singing, although some can not
sing a note.
Sweet weight,
in celebration of the woman I am
let me carry a ten-foot scarf,
let me drum for the nineteen-year-olds,
let me carry bowls for the offering
(if that is my part).
Let me study the cardiovascular tissue,
let me examine the angular distance of meteors,
let me suck on the stems of flowers
(if that is my part).
Let me make certain tribal figures
(if that is my part).
For this thing the body needs
let me sing
for the supper,
for the kissing,
for the correct
yes.
Anne Sexton, “In Celebration of My Uterus” from The Complete Poems of Anne Sexton (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1981). Copyright © 1981 by Linda Gray Sexton and Loring Conant, Jr.
Watching you
from faraway…
thoughts of two,
together someday.
Looks like it could
(and I think it might),
become too good
on this carefree night.
Lack of intimacy you fear,
could keep you apart.
But, lust draws him near
with no love in the heart.
You need to Think Twice:
a loveless raging thrill
and touching to entice,
leads to an immoral deal.
Promiscuity can be dangerous:
a way to make you a statistic.
Moving too fast is perilous.
Abstinence is NOT unrealistic.
Learn to feel and say “NO!”
Don’t be tricked to go all the way
with an unworthy cunning beau
who’s interested in a quick lay.
Remain a lady with self-respect.
A proper gentleman will understand
he needs to spend time trying to connect.
A lady’s virtue should never be a demand.
Copyright © 2009 by Tonja Dudley Bagwell (in the book Grace in a Garland)
www.jafansta.com/GraceinaGarland.aspx