To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!
Oh, The Ironies of Femininity My hips are the weight that creates this swing. Can you find beauty in the oblique and obtuse? A pendulum magically missing its center Is free like a wasp, anchored like a noose. Those pithy candied apples at the fair; Every girl, boy, and child was trying to trick Their mom or dad into buying them one; I just wanted the soggy wooden stick. I once chewed on a fibrous sugar cane, Sucking the juice as I splintered my tongue Happy for a half an hour or so Until I realized what I had done. So apple or stick, which one did I choose? Your “thumbs-up” will come when it’s not desired. Grab on to the noose and make it a swing. My rest comes when I’m already too tired. |
Sorry, there are no critiques for this poem in our system... If the poem is older, the critiques have been purged!