The Musings of a Modern Feminist

An amateur poet's take on feminism

Tag Archives: poetry

A brief encounter

He looks and gawks and ogles and stares
At my legs and hips and bum and hair
Taking me apart peace by piece
Heart pounding like a dog in heat.

He cares not for my voice nor my name
Just for my fleshy mortal frame
Possessing my image for his delight
To keep him company one lonely night.

Leaving me bare, vulnerable, alone
A naked girl so far from home.
Not a scrap of cloth to hide behind
To shield me from his lecherous mind.

I remember the place those like him gave me
A caged sex toy,  never to be free.
He moves on, a sigh of relief
A harrowing encounter, though very brief.


We Count Too

I suppose this poem is fairly self explanatory and was inspired by this a short piece on tumblr

So remember, We Count Too – enjoy!

We are fans
We are not attention seekers
We like Hans
And DC
And Marvel
We like to see
Our favourite characters
In cross overs
And ships
Just as much as you.

We are not treats
Or accesories
Tender meats
To be comsumed at your pleasure.
We are human
In every weight and measure.
Do not dismiss us
Or deride us
Because we challenge your
Sick power fantasy.

Don’t we deserve our space?
To talk and discuss online
The case
Of Who Shot First
Without being told to sit down
Or at worst
Threatened with assault or rape?
Why do we deserve to be raped?
Why are we ‘ugly dykes’
For opening our mouths?

The Whole Industry

We’re back to feminism this week. So I present this week’s poem:

They say it’s not enough
Never enough
You need more stuff
To make yourself acceptable
Too much fat
Too little
It’s just that
it’s in the wrong place
The wrong distribution.

Here, buy this cream
This serum
It’ll make you seem
For just an instant

Then you need to buy more
And more
And more
And more….

You must be paler
Or darker
Or thinner
Just not yourself
Never yourself.


Well I have been super busy this week with a bunch of deadlines to meet, so I haven’t had time to write something new or Lenten. So, I give you a poem I wrote about this time last year. It is season appropriate and I hope you like it.

Spring the time of new life and growth,
When trees make a solemn oath
To bear sweet flowers and sweeter fruits
They spread their leaves and dig their roots.

Bears yawn and swallows return
Knowing that it is their turn
To shape the world in all its beauty
That right now is their duty

Lambs dance and daffodils bloom
The threat of winter no longer looms
Over the world so people cheer
In the hope spring lasts all year.

A Journey

I make this journey all the time, every day in fact. Every time I sin, I have to fight my way back to Him again. I just hope that I’ve written this poem in such a way that other Christians can relate.

A dark place
No light
Nor warmth
No strength to fight
The clawing, suffocating damp..
Well and truly…
Not alone.
A presenc
A kindly being presents
Just in the corner of my eye.
I feel its light
Why won’t it answer my calls, why?
I walk
Then run
Clawing like a blind man
Searching for the sun.
I feel its Passion
I feel its Pain
And I feel it’s Love
Again and again.
So close, yet so far…
I abandon it all
My worries, my pride
And let myself fall
Into its arms
Warm and safe.
Bathed in a glow
That will forever show
Me the Way
The Truth
And the Life.

Lent: Part 2

The reading for the First Sunday of Lent was the single briefest summary you’re going to get of Christ’s time spent in the wilderness: Mark chapter 1, verses 12-15

And at once the Spirit drove him into the desert and he remained there for forty days, and was put to the test by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and the angels looked after him. After John had been arrested, Jesus went into Galilee. There he proclaimed the gospel from God saying, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is close at hand. Repent, and believe the gospel.’

40 days
Walking, praying
40 days
Knowing hunger, knowing thirst.

40 nights
Sleeping, praying
40 sights
Of what could be water.

40 days
Fasting, praying
40 ways
To be tempted, coerced.

40 nights
Crying, praying
40 sights
Of what could be food.

40 days
Sitting, praying
40 ways
To feel alone.

40 nights
Lying, praying
40 sights
Of friends, of home.

40 days
Spent fasting, spent praying
40 ways
To give thanks to God.

40 nights
Spent sleeping, spent praying
40 Sights
Of the gifts He gave.

Lent: part 1

Well tomorrow is Ash Wednesday and the Christian festival of Lent shall begin! So, as part of that, my poems for the next six weeks shall be Lent themed.

Lent is a time of prayer, and of quiet contemplation on the Passion, Death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ. Lent and Easter is the most important of the year for Christians because it is on the Passion, Death and Resurrection that our faith is intrinsically based. It is what empowers and drives Christianity because it shows that perfect, self sacrificing love that God has for us.

I shall endeavour to explore that love each week and see what I can make of it. I will never be able to adequately express it (it’s like trying to fit an ocean in a walnut shell) but I will do my best!

Ashes falling
Days lighten
A voice is calling
‘Come to me’.
Eyes closed
A quiet moment
Call to mind those
Prideful times.

Cross is forming
Reminding me
Of times coming
One day soon.
From dust He made
This mortal frame
To dust He bade
Return once more.

Mind is free
Not a thought of darkness
Comes near me
Just light. Simply life.
I have no fear
Of the coming end
Not when I hear
That still, small voice.

An ashen cross
Adorns my head
I fear not loss
Nor pain nor death.
For my Lord is here
The road begun
The Passion is near
The Passion of Love.


Seeing as it’s Valentine’s Day, I thought that I would do a poem on love. But instead of being disgustingly romantic about it, I decided to write about both sides of love, the fun bit and the hard bit (focussing on the hard bit). So yeah, Happy Valentine’s Day to all those couples celebrating the day and enjoy this little reminder about how it’s not all fun and games xx

It’s hard
Sometimes it will end up hurting
It goes beyond the words of affection
Beyond the sweet words and idle flirting.
True love takes work
Takes honesty and time
The fortitude to stick at it
When things aren’t ‘just fine’.
Love is spending time alone to calm down
It is arguing and it is fighting
It is checking your words when things go wrong
It is sitting alone with your thoughts and crying.

It’s magic.
It will bring the heart new pleasure
It will lift the heart to all new heights
It brings peace and joy in equal measure.
True love is to smile
When things go wrong
To love someone
Is to separate them from the throng.
Love is when you remain steadfast and loyal
Even when others refuse.
It is to never be whimsical with your beloved’s heart
Nor play nor hurt nor use.

Wilful Ignorance

I guess I wrote this one for the women and POC (People Of Colour) who cannot, and refuse not, to see racism or sexism around them. Who see the problematic portrayals of women and POC by both privileged and unprivileged groups alike but prefer to live with the blinkers on and collaborate rather than acknowledge and try to make a change. It is also the first poem I’ve ever written completely in free verse so I dunno how it has turned out.


They are blind to see

The sexism before them

The racism

They refuse to become

Alert. Aware.

To comprehend.

Instead they hide

They bury their heads in the sand

And say ‘It’s OK’ ‘Nothing is wrong’

Whilst staring at their bodies

In revulsion

In disgust

They do not know

And they do not believe

That we do not lie.

We know what we see

And when we try

To explain?

‘You are paranoid’

‘The world is post-feminist, colour-blind’

‘There is nothing wrong.’

But please,

Do not go through life



Just consuming.

Lest the filth consume you

Lest it make you hate yourself

Hate who you are.

Remove the plugs from your ears

Shake the dust from your mind

Wipe the mud from your eyes


To be a Catholic

This is a poem I wrote some time ago after one of the many disputes I have had with feminists about my faith versus my feminism. There seems to be a perception that I cannot be a proper feminist because I am a Catholic and this poem is a reply to that perception.


Catholic feminism:

An oxymoron?

Is Catholicism

So misogynist?

Teaching love of neighbour

Is that so wrong?

To do a person a favour

Is that chauvinist?

Perhaps some teachings

Appear at odds

With my feminist leanings.

But not so.

Sexual health

Has its root

In the spiritual wealth

Of Scripture.

But that is unimportant

In the face

Of giving thanks

To God.

Love all you meet

And all those you don’t

And always treat

Them like your own.

Love, love is what counts

That is the root of it all.

Ignoring that is tantamount

To ripping out my faith’s soul.

So do not tell me I’m not a feminist

Because I follow the Pope.

All true Catholics are on the list

Because of that Love.

To Catholics I say,

Pick up the cause!

Because that is the only way

We can follow Our Lord.

Women are God’s children

Loved by Him

Just as much as men.

Remember that.


%d bloggers like this: