Her voice rose softly to a gentle hum,
White tears streaming onto rouge lips:
“Someday my Prince will come.”
Seven men just aren’t enough for some,
And the mirror doesn’t lie;
Her voice rose softly to a gentle hum.
One bite of the apple and your body turns numb,
Poison runs through your veins. You cry:
“Someday my Prince will come.”
Why not lie on the bed for a hundred year sum?
It’s been done before, with positive results;
Her voice rose softly to a gentle hum.
Or grow your hair, or prick your thumb,
But a thick braid does not suit hair as black as ebony:
“Someday my Prince will come.”
So you settle for a mirror dumb,
That reflects horses in fields but with no riders.
Her voice rose softly to a gentle hum:
“Someday my Prince will come.”
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