tribute to women
Post on 11-Jul-2015
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THIS IS A TRIBUTE TO ALL WOMEN THROUGH THE AGESTO THEIR GRACE,BEAUTY, GENTILITY, FEMININITY, ET ALWOMEN WHO HAVE TO SURVIVE IN A WORLD DOMINATED BY MEN,WHO HAVE TO CARVE A NICHE FOR THEMSELVES,WOMEN, WHOSE DAYS ARE MADE UP OF, APART FROM EARNING A LIVLIHOOD,KEEPING HOUSE & CHILD-REARING,PANDERING TO THEIR MENS EGOS,AND GENERALLY MAKING SURE PEACE REIGNED IN THE WORLD THAT THESE WOMEN CREATED FOR THEMSELVES AND THEIR FAMILIES... -in other words, a tribute to us, ourselves, the women in our mens lives
I rented space within my headAnd soon I found no vacancy.Others' clutter stored up there,Leaving now no room for me.Should it be that I evict;Would I find now disrepair?Is the damage caused up there,Only room for now despair?Too many years of renting space;Controlling now the mind that's left;No longer mine to do as willBut it was I who allowed the theft.The cost was mine and I to pay;Investment without dividend.I gave to others too much room;A price that proved too much to spend.
"God has put something Noble and good Into every heart Which his hand has created." By Mark Twain
...And all my days are trances, And all my nightly dreams Are where thy gray eye glances And where thy footstep gleams--- In what ethereal dances By what eternal streams. By Edgar Allen Poe
...I've dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after,and changed my ideas: they've gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind. By Emily Bronte
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's sizeBut when I start to tell them,They think I'm telling lies.I say,It's in the reach of my armsThe span of my hips,The stride of my step,The curl of my lips.I'm a womanPhenomenally.Phenomenal woman,That's me.I walk into a roomJust as cool as you please,And to a man,The fellows stand orFall down on their knees.Then they swarm around me,A hive of honey bees.I say,It's the fire in my eyes,And the flash of my teeth,The swing in my waist,And the joy in my feet.I'm a womanPhenomenally.Phenomenal woman,That's me.
Men themselves have wonderedWhat they see in me.They try so muchBut they can't touchMy inner mystery.When I try to show them,They say they still can't see.I say,It's in the arch of my back,The sun of my smile,The ride of my breasts,The grace of my style.I'm a womanPhenomenally.Phenomenal woman,That's me. Now you understandJust why my head's not bowed.I don't shout or jump aboutOr have to talk real loud.When you see me passingIt ought to make you proud.I say,It's in the click of my heels,The bend of my hair,The palm of my hand,The need for my care,'Cause I'm a womanPhenomenally.Phenomenal woman,That's me..
Phenomenal womanBy Maya Angelou"When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy."
"...and then the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."
MOTHER-IN-LAW Some think it a dirty word,And speak of it with maliceAs if it rhymed with buzzardOr other words like callous.But you have never knownThe one that I call mine.For she is good down to the boneAnd I think her just divine.She is strong and strengthens meAnd from her faith I draw.I can say I love her deeply,This one called mother-in-law.
The heart of a woman goes forth with the dawn, As a lone bird, soft winging, so restlessly on, Afar o'er life's turrets and vales does it roam In the wake of those echoes the heart calls home. The heart of a woman falls backwith the night, And enters some alien cage in its plight, And tries to forget it has dreamed of the stars While it breaks, breaks, breaks on the sheltering bars.
JUST MY MOTHER
Did she have stories never told?Ones she lived so long ago?Would I have listened if she did?She was my mom and me a kid.Just my mother, not really real,is this the way, of her, I feel?Did she love, did she cry?Was there a time I asked her why?Mothers, they are always there,too many times we aren't aware,that they are people just like us,to remember that would be a plus.I sat to listen of memories of oldas my mother talked of long ago.She spoke of Daddy and his faultsand of dancing to the Tennessee Waltz.We laughed and cried, just two gals,not mother and daughter, just two pals.She was just my mother so I didn't knowthat she had actually lived so long ago.
PRECIOUS TIME TOGETHER "Can we help in the kitchen?""Can we watch you cook?"I'd rather do this myself,Then I stop and lookAt the innocent facesSo eager to learn.Selfish, no more,For now it's their turn.Clothes will get dirty,Dust will appear,Chores never endingYear after year.One morning the sun will rise,They'll wake with elation.For they've grown and matured,Today is graduation.
No longer will they need meTo plan their day.The years must have flownAnd now they're on their way.Yet I wake from a dream,Time is on my side.They're still little angelsNeeding me to guide.So I say to them,"I'll play and read books.I'll teach you to beGreat little cooks."For as you growAnd think of your Mother,Remember my love for youIs like no other.
WOULD YOU LOVE ME LESS Would you love me less intensely if my thoughts were less profoundAs a pigeon's passive waddle to the tidbits scattered roundNever wondering nor dreaming, never questioning beliefPecking contemplation's morsels thrown by others at my feetWould you love me with less passion if the twilight didn't creepTo the inner most contentment of my heart before I sleepIf the fluttering of feathers swooping down to nighttime perchDidn't incite a song of glory from my soul at nature's worth
Would your eyes be less inclined to notice little things I doIf I didn't stoop to see the world from a child's point of viewIf the innocence of little ones didn't touch me every timeThat a child gazed in honesty into these eyes of mineWould your love be less exiting if I didn't share my dreamsThat are floating in the current of imagination's streamsIf I didn't open up the fragile door that leads to meIn the songs and dreams and thoughts that drift within my poetryAll these questions posed in haste within a moment's happinessAnd among the sound of laughter comes the little answer, "Yes"
INKWELL OF THE HEART
From the content of the heart;The written word is penned,But without an inner sight;Is hard to comprehend.You look amazed at words in inkAnd ponder on them, the source;Was it the mind from whence they cameOr from the heart, that caused remorse.Is it truly filled with light,In the way you've come to see,Or does the content of your heartProvide the ink that flows from thee.Muddy dark that tends to smearOr calligraphy with beauty seen;Words that lift and soothe the soulOr ones that drag and thus demean.From the inkwell of the heart,The pen will draw from inAnd place upon the paper whiteThose things that lie within.
POET Pour out your heartoh poet, in a poemOf far away placeslet your mind roamfor just beyondwhat the eye can seesomeone will be waitingthere for theeSomeone you have knownforever in your mindSomewhere in a dreamtrue love you findThey are more than wordsfrom emotions spentthey are more than wordsfrom a letter, not sentOf heart, of soulof tear stained wordsthe poet writesthat his voice may be heardSo pour out your heartoh poet, in a poemlet the world see lovelet your heart be known
TRANQUIL IS MY SOUL
The hush of early morningbefore the dawn breaks throughThe murmuring of the sleeping earthcovered by the morning dewIn the mistthe luminous ghost of yesterdayfades into a memoryTranquil is my soul in sleepas golden rays of lightmove silently, through every dark, and secret placeChiming bells, from a church near bySounds of song birds, in tree tops highThe rustle of leaves, moved by the windI listen, to nature's melodyAs a cool breeze, chilled by the nightcaresses my cheeksI rejoice in the splendoras morning comes to life.