What Made Me a Woman?I fear Brooks would be shocked by my lack of 'cool'.What Made Me a Woman?
Is it the turn of my hips, the curl of my smile? Am I condemned to Angelou's vision of beauty, confined by the isolated death-cries of Dickinson? Have I battered down enough of Walker’s doors to do my sex service? Did Sojourner really find the truth?
Poetry hasn't written me a woman yet.
There aren’t words marking breasts as little more than scars or stanzas cultured around the ovary I lost after losing my child.
All I know is this: God m
The ScarThe morning wore a chill, cloaked in fog and damp air that drifted in light-circles against a grey backdrop; streetlamps flickered, some already dark in places where a sliver of autumn sun burned through. There were sounds, but they were not unfamiliar: the hum of a patrol car, the crunch of gravel under Orange boots, the echo of commands barked in a harsh out-County accent. Huddled together for warmth, our breath betraying our position, we stood with gripped hands and attained a steely resolve, resigned to take our first step. This was our walk to school.The Scar
In Derry, known by official terms as Londonderry, there is a road that
by *balaa
by `hellfirediva
easter greetings
Relief
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Senior Member | Smurf Master
FAQ #565: You prohibit the submission of 'pornographic imagery'; what do you consider this to be?
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Awesome avatar by =elicoronel16
"I'll go find avogadro and kick his ass for you." - =bekkia
*Adopt-A-Writer | *DailyDeviants | ~seniormentors | ~Trashrock | #Writers-Workshop
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Support me in my 2009 HIV/AIDS Walk
StJoan, M.D. of DramaLlamaology
Literature GM at your service.
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I have absolutely nothing interesting to say.
Thank you for your time
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~D
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I know how the devil sleeps at night
He lights the fire behind my eyes
And he lets it there and I let it lie
I know how the devil sleeps at night
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Some days I write those words, others they write me.
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