This is What a Feminist Writes Poetry Like

I’m Carmina Masoliver and currently studying the MA in Creative Entrepreneurship at UEA London. I joined the Feminist Society when it was just a discussion group and became a distant member of the committee as the ‘London Rep’ when the group became an official society! As I’m soon leaving UEA (for good?!) I thought I’d share some of my “Feminist Poems” with everyone – though arguably all my poems are Feminist Poems! You can follow my own bloggings at my website. The first was inspired by my first march that I went on with fellow FemSoc members. I hope you like them, and any feedback would be greatly appreciated.

Reclaim The Night

Whatever we wear, wherever we go – yes means yes and no means no!

This night is ours as much as it is yours!

This fight is ours, so we’re shouting for the cause!

This right is ours, so open up your doors!

We’ve come to reclaim the night!

This is just a human right!

We’re not giving up this fight!

To be free from fists that hit in homes, below the bedroom’s of children, wide eyed awake, they shake.

To be free from the fathers that do not create, but destroy;

rape, and erase all innocence and joy.

To be free from the inhuman who attack women in mini-skirts,

in midi-skirts, skinny-jeans, in burkas!

Because rapists are not just behind-the-bush-alley-way-lurkers!

To be free from curb-crawlers, cat-callers, stalking,

intimidating, threatening, while we’re on the street walking.

To be free from the molesting men in clubs, in pubs, in crowds, on the underground.

For humanity!  The crush of a rush hour tube,

does not give you the right to touch up my bum or boobs!


To be free from forced marriages, and so-called honour killings, free from female genital mutilation.

Free from a male-dominated government, that appears not to understand this information.

To be free from fear as we walk through our life.

To not live under the threat of the kitchen knife.

To be safe before, during, after being a wife.

This night is ours as much as it is yours!

This fight is ours, so we’re shouting for the cause!

This right is ours, so open up your doors!

We’ve come to reclaim the night!

This is just a human right!

We’re not giving up this fight!

Mr. Misogynist

How could I fall in love with a misogynist?

Was it something in his kiss?

Was it something innate,

that made me want to mate?

Let’s blame it on biology,

I can’t help finding you sexy!

I’m talking evolution!

It’s the one solution!

Because my purpose is to procreate,

So, stick it in me, it must be fate!

Yes, it’s my aim in life, to reproduce,

go on and service me, put my organs to use!

But would you fuck with me, if you knew I was a feminist?

If I put my foot down, said I’m not having any of this?

I don’t appreciate your comments on my furry “beaver”

so I’m sorry, I’m gonna have to love and leave ya!

How could I fall in love with a misogynist?

Was it something in his kiss?

Tick the Box

I will buy a Yorkie bar, let it melt in my mouth and drink milk,

ignore the calories and not stick my fingers down my throat to be sick.

I will dream I have a dick

at night in my bed alone, wrapped in Cath Kidson flowers

I will be unattainable, no I’m not available

for you to screw, do what you do, and leave in the gutter

like butter wouldn’t melt.

And any tears I cry are simply for the time I’ve wasted in my life

over those that didn’t deserve more than the stir

of the spoon in my cup of tea,

because life is short and some people you just don’t need.

I will drink a cocktail or a can of lager,

and don’t want to know you if you judge me on the choice.

I will be shy as I am but you will never take my voice.

I will not wear nipple tassels and knickers and call myself Burlesque.

I will not fuck drunk, load each hole with spunk and call myself a feminist.

I will not be a nought

or throw myself over the balcony

or drown myself in the river

or have my tongue cut out by some Tereus

I will not be trapped in the attic

or be called over-dramatic,

or be told to rest, suffocated by yellow wallpaper

until my death.

I will not let you put me in a box of what you think female should be,

all I know is who I am, and I can only be me.

Natural Woman

There is no such thing as natural beauty,

but looking good is just a woman’s duty,

so pile high the powder and plaster on a smile,

‘cause honey, looking ugly is never gonna be in style.

With body hair you look a state,

so pluck, shave, wax and epilate!

To hear him say your place or mine?

You’ll need to get that salon perfect shine,

so shampoo, blow dry and straighten everyday

and say goodbye to fly-aways!

Sit-ups, and daily trips to the gym

are good to help you keep so slim.

Count calories in salads and other fun food

just so you don’t break down at your reflection in the nude.

Buy pretty clothes and accessories for men to give compliments

just so they can find a way into your pants!

With an implant here and a nip-tuck there,

you’ll be happy to prance around in just your underwear!

The Bachelor and the Spinster

The Bachelor sits in his pad

With the remote control in hand,

Whilst the Spinster spills dinner and drinks on the carpet

And nothing goes as planned.

She thinks of old chestnuts

Like always the bridesmaid

Whilst when he goes out,

He’s guaranteed to get laid.

The Spinster’s forgotten what a condom is for,

Thinks it might be something you eat.

Her underwear is worn and grey

And she can’t see her feet.

The Bachelor works out at the gym

And particularly likes the weights.

He wonders what next week’s plan is;

A quick shag or a couple of dates?

The Spinster’s mouth is turned down

And the wrinkles are setting in.

She stopped playing the game of love

Because she thought she’d never win.

She buys a magazine

And takes herself for a coffee,

Deciding at the counter,

To treat herself to a slice of sweet Banoffee.

The Bachelor’s before her,

And as he turns around

His hot cup flies onto her frock

And in shock, she ends up on the ground.


Madonna is a Whore

I’m here to break the dichotomy

of fables: colour in the black & white. With a white lie, you used me

& had me pegged as either/or

hanging like clothes on the washing line,

like meat on a butcher’s hook,

like a victim of a crime, silenced.

Dumbed down to binary opposition,

labels sticking to my lapel

because of the buttons

on my shirt/length of my skirt. Slut

-shaming & running rumour mills,

churning out the same old stories. Share

the gory/glory details of who bedded who.

Beauty placed on a pedestal,

questioned my sex when

I am not what you expect. Unmade

faces are not fit for the outside;

stay in & be a good girl.

This is a bad, bad world,

don’t think you can rebel.

Rag Doll

Dismantle me like Lego,

you know, it’s all fun and games.

Pull my hair and trip me up

and call me nasty names.

Let’s play doctors

and I’ll be the patient lying down.

Give me your lollypop

and I will smile and never frown.

Spin bottle so you can smash it;

smack your lips on mine.

If anybody asks me how I am

I’ll just say I’m fine.

Let’s play dress-up,

I’ll make myself a clown.

I know how you like to laugh at me

but you never put me down.

‘Cause I’m your rag doll

and I can’t move myself.

And if you left me

I’d just sit back on the shelf

because there just isn’t anyone else.