Poetry

In shadows deep, I find my voice, A whispered cry, not by choice, In corridors of dreams, I tread, With burdens on my heart, like lead.

I walk the path society paved, Yet stumble where expectations crave, To bind my spirit, clip my wings, In silence, my own song I sing.

The mirror shows a face that's strong, Yet in my soul, I question long, Am I enough, or just a shape, To fit the mold, to bend, to break?

The nights I lie, awake with fears, Invisible, unshed tears, From catcalls sharp, to glassy towers, To wage wars in these endless hours.

They tell me how I should appear, To smile, to nod, to never veer, From paths they deem as safe and sound, While my true self, remains unfound.

In boardrooms cold, I fight to stand, Among the suits, to raise a hand, My voice, a whisper in the din ,They measure me by lines so thin.

For motherhood, they judge and pry, Yet question if I pass it by, My choices weighed on scales unjust, In every glance, in every thrust.

But in my heart, a fire glows, Through every struggle, my strength grows, For every time they push me down, I rise again, reclaim my crown.

The scars I bear, the lessons learned, In every tear, a wisdom earned, I am the storm, the calm, the sea, The wildest force, untamed, and free.

In sisterhood, our spirits bind, Together, we shall rise, aligned, Through every trial, through every pain, We'll weave a world where love will reign.

So hear me now, this voice of flame, In every woman, feel the same, For in our depths, a power thrives, We are the force, we are the lives.

O radiant beacon, eternal and wise, In the cradle of your arms, the universe lies, You, the weaver of dreams and the bearer of light, In your embrace, day transcends into night.

With hands that nurture, soothe, and mend, You shape the future, yet humbly bend, To kiss away sorrows, to quiet the cries, In the depths of your heart, boundless love lies.

Guardian of life, with strength untold, Through trials and triumphs, fierce and bold, You stand unwavering, steadfast and true, A testament of all that’s pure and new.

From the dawn of time, in ages past, Your spirit endures, unbroken, vast, In whispers of lullabies, in stories retold, Through the warmth of your touch, we are consoled.

You are the earth, the moon, the sky, The breath of life, the silent sigh, In every heartbeat, in every tear, Your essence lingers, ever near.

Ode to Motherhood

The world may waver, the stars may fall, Yet in your presence, we stand tall, For you are the anchor, the guiding star, The compass that points to who we are.

Through sleepless nights and endless days, In countless, selfless, loving ways, You build the bridges, mend the seams, A tapestry of hopes and dreams.

O Mother, your legacy is carved in gold, In stories of love, in hands we hold, Your spirit, a river, flowing wide, In the hearts of your children, you forever reside.

So, here’s to you, the eternal flame, With gratitude, we speak your name, For in your grace, we find our way, Through every night, to each new day.

To motherhood, we lift our song, In your embrace, we all belong, A tribute to your boundless love, Our earthly guide, our light above.

My Struggle

Phoenix rising

From the depths, we rise, A symphony of voices, once silenced, Now a crescendo, a tidal wave of truth, Emerging from shadows, from whispers, We are the daughters of resilience, The heirs of struggle, the phoenix reborn.

In the dark, we were hidden, Bound by chains of doubt, of fear, Yet within us, a fire smoldered, A spark undying, a flame unseen, Nurtured in the quiet corners of our hearts, Fed by dreams, by defiance, by hope.

We rise from the ashes of oppression, From the ruins of despair, we soar, Our wings, forged in the furnace of endurance, Spread wide against the canvas of the sky, We are the storm, the dawn, the rebirth, The echoes of ancient strength resound in our cry.

Through centuries of silence, we listened, To the heartbeat of our foremothers, Their wisdom, their pain, their whispers, We carry them forward, their legacy, A mantle of power, of grace, of unyielding will, We rise, a collective force, a phoenix of many feathers.

In our eyes, the light of a thousand suns, In our hands, the tools of change, of creation, We rebuild, we reshape, we reclaim, Every space, every dream, every truth, From the rubble of the past, we construct the future, A monument to our endurance, our rise.

We rise for the ones who came before, For the silent warriors, the unspoken names, For the mothers, the daughters, the sisters, Who fought in the shadows, who dreamed in silence, Their courage, their spirit, a flame within us, Guiding us upwards, ever upwards.

In unity, we find our strength, A tapestry of voices, of stories, interwoven, From every corner of the earth, we converge, In solidarity, in sisterhood, in power, We rise, a phoenix undivided, unbroken, From the ashes of yesterday, we create the dawn of tomorrow.

We are the phoenix, eternal, resurgent, From darkness, from despair, we ascend, Our wings, a testament to our journey, Our fire, a beacon to the world, We rise, unstoppable, luminous, Women, reborn, unshackled, free.

The Perfect outfit

In the quiet sanctuary of her closet, Amidst a sea of fabric and possibility, She stands, a seeker of the sublime.

Her fingers trace the edges of silken dreams, Each thread a whisper of longing, As she seeks the perfect outfit to adorn her soul.

In the rhythm of her breath, she finds her muse, A symphony of colors and textures, Weaving tales of strength and grace.

She chooses not just a garment, But an embodiment of her essence, A vessel for her spirit to dance within.

In the gentle caress of fabric against skin, She feels the embrace of possibility, As she steps into the world, a vision of her true self.

For in the alchemy of style and substance, She finds liberation, empowerment, A reflection of her inner radiance.

And so she walks, not just clothed, But adorned with the essence of her being, A living poem, a masterpiece of her own creation.

Elegy to the Old Women

In the quiet corners of memory's embrace, We mourn the passing of a bygone grace, For in the whispers of time's gentle breeze, Lies the elegy of the old-fashioned women, at ease.

They were the keepers of tradition's flame, The guardians of virtue, the bearers of name, With aprons tied and hands of toil, They tended hearth and home, on soil.

Their laughter, like wind chimes in the breeze, Their wisdom, like roots of ancient trees, In simplicity, they found their might, In humility, they shone their light.

They brewed the tea and stitched the seams, They nurtured dreams in silent beams, Their love, a quiet, steadfast song, In the symphony of life, they belong.

With hair pinned up and skirts that swirled, They danced through life, undeterred, Their stories etched in faded photographs, Their legacy, a treasure trove of laughs.

But as seasons change and time moves on, Their presence fades like a waning dawn, Yet in our hearts, their spirit thrives, In the echo of their laughter, their lives.

So let us raise our voices high, In tribute to the old-fashioned women, who fly, On wings of memory, they soar, In our hearts, forevermore.