Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

Rooms

Enlarge poem

In wooden rooms we confess, between us a veil, the palm of my hand
A wooden chair, justice sits, the witness takes a stand
Within us lies the guilt of beds unplanned
Shoot all these messengers, their truths are falsified
How do you expect me to testify
As I lay crucified
Hands pinned down on either side
I can’t swear that what I say is either truth or lies
Forgive me father, for I have sinned
The whores I’ve slept with are bedridden
Gypsy woman who moves with the circus, I know no home
Vacant souls have become my humble abode
These poets are nothing to me but hope
They watched us get raped, then our story they sold.

I cannot claim to know the pain of those who’ve had their vaginas ripped from their names
But everytime a woman gets raped, I get raped
Veins bleed in vain
Wine matures when you put it away
So in our closets we stay
When we’re brave enough, we display
The forbidden fruit, from which we came
Prunes,and sour grapes
Apples that fell too far from the tree have started to decay

But a woman can’t talk about some of her parts, even those they’ve taken part in, taking apart.
I’ve walked endless streets
Signs of struggle are in our feet
Trying to reach a woman I will never be
The men I will never seek
Even tried to change my name, but my face I keep.
Adam and eve
Trees and seeds
Dirty linen, and dusty streets,
Panties and briefs
Vaginas and penises that leaked

I see your clothes, their earthly weight
I see how they want to know what lies within you
I see you clothes, their earthly weight
I see how they gender-defy you

So, have you any confessions Father?

Nina Femme

Featured Poem:

Flowers and feminism

Enlarge poem

We are caterpillars that cocoon in cunts.
Mimicking moves of love and lust.
It’s an orchestra of orgasms when we fuck.

My panties are purple
She loves lavender, not lotus or lilies but lavender
Flowers and feminism: A lesbian love letter.

It took them some time to decide that our union was civil.
We light our candles in chapels during night vigils.
Today still, they call it an act.
Feathers that flock to find freedom.
Our faint hearts, and faith
Their politics and laws
By laws
My in laws
Ancestral beliefs.
Maybe acts of matrimony, motherhood, mistakes and memories
Matriarchies and morning glories

Riddles and rhymes to tickle your mind
Fiddle with time, it’s a fickle design.
Whistles and wind chimes.
Weather forecasts that lied.
Saviours and charlatans alike
Prayers and pain, protests and pride.

Her panties are purple
She loves lavender. Not lotus, or lilies, but lavender.
Flowers, and feminism: A lesbian love letter

Sex, smiles, smooches and sorries
Space.
She said she wanted a break
So I split it in two and gave her part of my heart, break
Once in picture perfect mode, now we stood, juxtaposed
ìComplete me pleaseî her fragmented self appealed
Sabbaticals from society
Sobriety.
Seasonal harvesting of the crops.
These dreadlocks
Tied in promises of forget me (k)nots.
Cum shot, tequila tots and toddlers
Our fate in the hands of padlocks
Safety, survival and a sand box

Summers last longer
And we prayer harder.
Life keeps taking, but we give more, we live more.
We fear we could lose each other at any moment
Not to another
But, life.

Loving a woman is loving yourself
Cannabis clouds and high hopes
Antidotes and tight ropes
Insecurity, security and secularity
Experiences that we shelled in embryos
Fertilization and fetuses
Failures and forgiveness
Retirement, reflections and revolution stories
Boys and girls
Misunderstood and ruined by the world

Our panties are still purple
She loves lavender, not lotus or lilies but lavender
I now love lavender too, so I water the garden while she picks the fruit
Flowers and feminism: A lesbian love letter.

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (2)
  • Pride (0)
  • Optimism (0)
  • Anger (0)
  • Delight (0)
  • Inspiration (0)
  • Reflection (0)
  • Captivation (0)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (0)
  • Vigour (0)
  • Hope (0)
  • Sadness (0)
  • Fear (0)
  • Jubilation (0)

Comments

Your email address will not be published.

Biography

Nina Femme is a poet-feminist who is trying to master writing, protesting and finding balance in the pursuit of love and justice. Flowers and Feminism, a personally inspired poem, earned her second place in the national Drama for Life Lover and Another poetry competition in 2013. “I wrote my first piece ten years ago, but it never gets easier because the issues never get easier.” When she isn’t in an existential state, she contests her title as “the worst pool player in the Westrand”.

Nina Femme

Biography

Nina Femme is a poet-feminist who is trying to master writing, protesting and finding balance in the pursuit of love and justice. Flowers and Feminism, a personally inspired poem, earned her second place in the national Drama for Life Lover and Another poetry competition in 2013. “I wrote my first piece ten years ago, but it never gets easier because the issues never get easier.” When she isn’t in an existential state, she contests her title as “the worst pool player in the Westrand”.

Rooms

Enlarge poem

In wooden rooms we confess, between us a veil, the palm of my hand
A wooden chair, justice sits, the witness takes a stand
Within us lies the guilt of beds unplanned
Shoot all these messengers, their truths are falsified
How do you expect me to testify
As I lay crucified
Hands pinned down on either side
I can’t swear that what I say is either truth or lies
Forgive me father, for I have sinned
The whores I’ve slept with are bedridden
Gypsy woman who moves with the circus, I know no home
Vacant souls have become my humble abode
These poets are nothing to me but hope
They watched us get raped, then our story they sold.

I cannot claim to know the pain of those who’ve had their vaginas ripped from their names
But everytime a woman gets raped, I get raped
Veins bleed in vain
Wine matures when you put it away
So in our closets we stay
When we’re brave enough, we display
The forbidden fruit, from which we came
Prunes,and sour grapes
Apples that fell too far from the tree have started to decay

But a woman can’t talk about some of her parts, even those they’ve taken part in, taking apart.
I’ve walked endless streets
Signs of struggle are in our feet
Trying to reach a woman I will never be
The men I will never seek
Even tried to change my name, but my face I keep.
Adam and eve
Trees and seeds
Dirty linen, and dusty streets,
Panties and briefs
Vaginas and penises that leaked

I see your clothes, their earthly weight
I see how they want to know what lies within you
I see you clothes, their earthly weight
I see how they gender-defy you

So, have you any confessions Father?

Featured Poem:

Flowers and feminism

Enlarge poem

We are caterpillars that cocoon in cunts.
Mimicking moves of love and lust.
It’s an orchestra of orgasms when we fuck.

My panties are purple
She loves lavender, not lotus or lilies but lavender
Flowers and feminism: A lesbian love letter.

It took them some time to decide that our union was civil.
We light our candles in chapels during night vigils.
Today still, they call it an act.
Feathers that flock to find freedom.
Our faint hearts, and faith
Their politics and laws
By laws
My in laws
Ancestral beliefs.
Maybe acts of matrimony, motherhood, mistakes and memories
Matriarchies and morning glories

Riddles and rhymes to tickle your mind
Fiddle with time, it’s a fickle design.
Whistles and wind chimes.
Weather forecasts that lied.
Saviours and charlatans alike
Prayers and pain, protests and pride.

Her panties are purple
She loves lavender. Not lotus, or lilies, but lavender.
Flowers, and feminism: A lesbian love letter

Sex, smiles, smooches and sorries
Space.
She said she wanted a break
So I split it in two and gave her part of my heart, break
Once in picture perfect mode, now we stood, juxtaposed
ìComplete me pleaseî her fragmented self appealed
Sabbaticals from society
Sobriety.
Seasonal harvesting of the crops.
These dreadlocks
Tied in promises of forget me (k)nots.
Cum shot, tequila tots and toddlers
Our fate in the hands of padlocks
Safety, survival and a sand box

Summers last longer
And we prayer harder.
Life keeps taking, but we give more, we live more.
We fear we could lose each other at any moment
Not to another
But, life.

Loving a woman is loving yourself
Cannabis clouds and high hopes
Antidotes and tight ropes
Insecurity, security and secularity
Experiences that we shelled in embryos
Fertilization and fetuses
Failures and forgiveness
Retirement, reflections and revolution stories
Boys and girls
Misunderstood and ruined by the world

Our panties are still purple
She loves lavender, not lotus or lilies but lavender
I now love lavender too, so I water the garden while she picks the fruit
Flowers and feminism: A lesbian love letter.

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (2)
  • Pride (0)
  • Optimism (0)
  • Anger (0)
  • Delight (0)
  • Inspiration (0)
  • Reflection (0)
  • Captivation (0)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (0)
  • Vigour (0)
  • Hope (0)
  • Sadness (0)
  • Fear (0)
  • Jubilation (0)

Rooms

Enlarge poem

In wooden rooms we confess, between us a veil, the palm of my hand
A wooden chair, justice sits, the witness takes a stand
Within us lies the guilt of beds unplanned
Shoot all these messengers, their truths are falsified
How do you expect me to testify
As I lay crucified
Hands pinned down on either side
I can’t swear that what I say is either truth or lies
Forgive me father, for I have sinned
The whores I’ve slept with are bedridden
Gypsy woman who moves with the circus, I know no home
Vacant souls have become my humble abode
These poets are nothing to me but hope
They watched us get raped, then our story they sold.

I cannot claim to know the pain of those who’ve had their vaginas ripped from their names
But everytime a woman gets raped, I get raped
Veins bleed in vain
Wine matures when you put it away
So in our closets we stay
When we’re brave enough, we display
The forbidden fruit, from which we came
Prunes,and sour grapes
Apples that fell too far from the tree have started to decay

But a woman can’t talk about some of her parts, even those they’ve taken part in, taking apart.
I’ve walked endless streets
Signs of struggle are in our feet
Trying to reach a woman I will never be
The men I will never seek
Even tried to change my name, but my face I keep.
Adam and eve
Trees and seeds
Dirty linen, and dusty streets,
Panties and briefs
Vaginas and penises that leaked

I see your clothes, their earthly weight
I see how they want to know what lies within you
I see you clothes, their earthly weight
I see how they gender-defy you

So, have you any confessions Father?

Comments

Your email address will not be published.