8 posts
  • rhymester23 94w

    A Girl Looking at the Moon

    A girl looking at the moon,
    Oh! She cries so soon.
    See she is thinking about something
    and trying to understand what is happening.
    She speaks quietly: If I speak it is calamity,
    and when a boy speaks it is dignity.
    What a difference it is
    To a girl is always fitted this.
    No place is there where we are free.
    Men are everywhere we can see.
    For us there is no place,
    but for boys there is no life race.
    Nothing is meant for us-No place,no 'Nature'
    Because God himself has made a creature
    To tease and rule upon girls
    These creatures are nothing else,
    the only boys themselves.
    Girls are obstacles everyone thought
    and boys help in family growth they taught.
    Girls can never live freely because of boys.
    Again and again my heart makes this noise.
    But everytime I make my heart silent
    because my family treats me brilliant.

  • gauri_d_s 97w

    Somos los arquitectos de nuestra cultura y realidad. Cuando creemos en la igualdad, existe. Es importante reconocer al ser humano dentro de nosotros, sans género, color, sexualidad, religión, idioma e incluso nacionalidad.
    - Gauri D.

    #EachForEqual #InternationalWomensDay #HappyWomensDay #GenderEquality #HeForShe #Feminist #Feminism #EqualRights #shespeaksforthechange #HerStory #Equality #BeingWoman #WomanEmpowerment #SheSpeaks #SheWrites #GenderIssues #SheIsMe #Her #Woman #EmpoweringWoman #WritersOfInstagram #inspiration #thoughts #life

    Read More

    We are the architects of our culture and reality. When we believe in equality, it exists. It is important to recognise the human within us, sans gender, color, sexuality, religion, language, and even nationality.


  • raenu23 152w


    That night,

    I saw anger, smoldering vigorously, suffocating the once tranquil atmosphere of our home. My body curled in, with fear and I felt squeamish.

    Dad said I was different. He told me it was not right to feel different. He told me it was wrong. He said I was possessed and needed to be cleansed. He threw away my dangling earrings, burnt the red dress which I hid, in my closet and demolished my vanity.

    He painted my walls blue, hung fighter jets and pasted Spiderman posters. Dad was happy. I knew he was. He was glowing with satisfaction.

    But Dad, 'I was never different.'
    Or was I?


  • magicalmystery 162w

    An Aged Perspective

    All my life I've battled my reflection;
    I've seen a little girl,
    I've seen a little boy;
    I've seen a crying woman,
    I've seen a broken man.

    But now I see something else;
    A lack of feminine beauty.
    A lack of grace and pose.
    And I wonder to myself,
    Should I become a real boy?

    I don't see beauty in these eyes,
    But tragedy and pain;
    As a child I drew pregnant male lions;
    Perhaps that was my secret dream?

    As I look into my reflection,
    A genderless person stares back,
    Unable to smile without a cause,
    Unable to bleed without justification:
    They are restless in this cage called Home.

    Perhaps I will live in a body of a girl,
    And live a secret inner double life;
    The life of a man discovering himself
    In the facade of an aging young woman...

    Because with every day that passes,
    A wrinkle is created on my mirror's reflection.
    A long time ago, I thought I was beautiful.
    Perhaps I've just always been this handsome.


  • magicalmystery 176w

    A Poetic Biography

    I absorbed the darkness like a sponge,
    Tired of soaking in the light:
    The darkness came from all around me,
    But came first from my childhood.

    Mom made me wear dresses,
    Dad made me smile:
    Made is another word for forced,
    But I wanted to be a good child.

    So smile I did for cameras and new faces,
    But my dresses became torn while playing in races.
    I wanted to be fast, to be strong, to be brave:
    I didn't want to be like my Mom, quietly afraid.

    My dad would throw punches at my brother and yell;
    I was raised to believe that good girls be still.
    So I never got involved in the chaos around me,
    Until around age 14 when the darkness evolved me.

    My dad was not the definition of a man:
    Who frightens his wife and bruises his son?
    Makes his daughters flee like cats on the run?
    Making "Who wants to ride with me?"worse than a gun?

    So I developed a part of me that could handle it all.
    A man I became in the seclusion of the web,
    As I weaved my lies and spun reality in their heads;
    Innocent children on chat sites and those wanting to be dead.

    I became a master of manipulation,
    A demon, a god:
    I became narcissist and rose myself above them all.
    But in doing all this, I neglected my loving Mom.

    I became the very thing I didn't want to become:
    A male persona with silver for a tongue,
    Who stayed up late just to touch himself,
    Only to be filled with remorse and beg for Hell.

    As the years went by, I separated again:
    16 was the age that I went insane,
    Tearing up novels, hardbacks, and dolls,
    Because so many years had passed with no change at all.

    Alone in the bedroom I started anew:
    Candles at night and salt for my wounds,
    I blessed every guardian,
    True or untrue.

    I begged for answers and blessed on stones,
    Waiting for an answer that would come on it's own.
    A girl by day and a shadow by night,
    I understood it all and fell into fright.

    Depression swept in and claimed my soul:
    6 years of emptiness and I don't remember them at all;
    When I turned 21 I woke up from a dream;
    The dream was called Fear and I woke up in Reality.

    With life renewed but mind still shattered,
    I fell in love but it wasn't really what I was after.
    My darkness was back, I claimed I was good,
    But deep in my heart I wanted them to hurt.

    But when the time came, I was reduced to a child;
    Frightened and unsure, all I did with them was smile.
    I blew all my money and all of my love,
    And in return received nothing but an act of betrayal:

    My brother had found my diary somehow,
    So after my experimental love I was put in lockdown,
    Where I sat very still and observed very hard,
    Staying a total of 15 days at a mental ward.

    During my stay I received a call:
    "I cheated on you," and that was all.
    No longer with reason to get back to life,
    I took up a knife and joined the Emos at long last.

    Years became seconds of nothingness and sorrow,
    As all I ever did was go to work and get smaller:
    Starving myself and cutting under my knees,
    I found absolutely no reason to keep on living.

    Somewhere between age 21-23,
    I drove far away from home and everything,
    For darkness had taken my mind and I tried to flee.
    But as my Mom said, "No matter where you go, there you will be."

    Honesty put me back in a ward,
    This time nicer but I was more bold:
    Speaking my mind was out of the question;
    I had to lie in order to be released or they would have never set me free.

    Back home I was hateful,
    Rude, and unclean.
    Not bathing for days, and sometimes weeks.
    I would chat on my phone and barely eat.

    Then I found her, my angel, my devil:
    She was broken like me, but was very unstable.
    For months over the phone I let her eat out my soul,
    Ignoring my family and showing late to work.

    She made threats of suicide and confessions of her past,
    But the darkness inside me only started to laugh.
    However I did love her very much,
    So much so that I packed up and moved after 9 months.

    Finally free and finally happy,
    I found myself rather enjoying her odd company.
    But as days became weeks and weeks became forever,
    She became violent and I couldn't bring myself to stop her.

    Bruises to cover and hunger to nurse,
    I separated further than I had ever known.
    The beatings would take place but I could not recall
    The pain of her fists or the blood on my arms.

    It was as if another person was being inflicted,
    While I sat in the back seat, grateful but conflicted:
    Why was she beating me all the time?
    She claimed PTSD but that didn't make it right.

    Whenever I tried she would force me to stay,
    Only to break down sobbing and tell me to leave.
    But when I agreed I would face her wrath,
    Of "You promised you'd love me, but you're just like all the rest!"

    In these months of misery I quietly reflected,
    On my past and myself and the state I was in.
    Funny how I thought as a child back then,
    How life couldn't get any worse, but now, it did.

    After 8 long months I finally broke free,
    Of my depression,
    Of my hesitation,
    Of the one who "loved" me,

    But now that I am home I have grown very lonely.
    25 years of observation and curiosity,
    Repaid in full with fists of hostility.
    Yet I cannot deny my desperation:

    I am full of longing to learn and understand;
    I can adapt like a chameleon and shriek like a bat;
    I can be like a mockingbird and sing with many voices,
    But what is the benefit in any of that?

    A woman with men inside her head,
    Desires to speak but a voice too soft;
    Crazy as I am, I can't stand myself,
    Because when I close my eyes I remember how it felt--

    To be held in the warm arms of a lover at night,
    To feel safe and secure-
    Though she robbed me of that-
    And for once to wake up and no longer feel sad-

    If I had one wish, I would only want that.


  • shwetapadmadas 186w

    gender norms

    why is masculine
    the power, the gender neutral look
    while a guy in sarong
    is singled out for
    being too feminine?
    actor, poet's more neutralizing
    more equalizing
    more powerful than their feminine forms
    when woman preceeds most masculine titles
    not much difference to gender diversity
    we are caught in semantics
    detaching meanings from words
    in hopes of changing attitudes
    a truly gender neutral world
    would give me the freedom to be
    however i look
    whatever i be

    S. P. Das

  • runielicious 196w

    The most important issues of today
    that need to be taken care of are lost in hashtags, speech, texts, trends and visuals. Oh, the irony that is this note.

    But seriously!

  • elysian23 227w

    Treat right.

    And I thought to myself,
    Only if I had any chance to become a guy..
    I will show them how to treat a girl,
    Who deserves it.