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This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at UPR chapter.

Being a woman doesn’t have one sole definition. Womanhood is a prism, and it’s an experience that’s different for everyone. However, there’s instances where our world views and experiences might collide. Whether you’re a habitual poetry reader or not, accompany me in celebrating women in one of art’s purest forms. Here are ten poems written by women that express the diversity that entails being a woman; enjoy.  

Desire

  1. The Anactoria Poem

By: Sappho; Translated by: Jim Powell

Retrieved from: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/161660/the-anactoria-poem

Some say thronging cavalry, some say foot soldiers,

others call a fleet the most beautiful of

sights the dark earth offers, but I say it’s what-

                    ever you love best.

And it’s easy to make this understood by

everyone, for she who surpassed all human

kind in beauty, Helen, abandoning her

                    husband—that best of

men—went sailing off to the shores of Troy and

never spent a thought on her child or loving

parents: when the goddess seduced her wits and

                    left her to wander,

she forgot them all, she could not remember

anything but longing, and lightly straying

aside, lost her way. But that reminds me

                    now: Anactória,

she’s not here, and I’d rather see her lovely

step, her sparkling glance and her face than gaze on

all the troops in Lydia in their chariots and

                    glittering armor.

Womanhood

  1. Phenomenal Woman

By: Maya Angelou

Retrieved from: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48985/phenomenal-woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size   

But when I start to tell them,

They think I’m telling lies.

I say,

It’s in the reach of my arms,

The span of my hips,   

The stride of my step,   

The curl of my lips.   

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,   

That’s me.

I walk into a room

Just as cool as you please,   

And to a man,

The fellows stand or

Fall down on their knees.   

Then they swarm around me,

A hive of honey bees.   

I say,

It’s the fire in my eyes,   

And the flash of my teeth,   

The swing in my waist,   

And the joy in my feet.   

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered   

What they see in me.

They try so much

But they can’t touch

My inner mystery.

When I try to show them,   

They say they still can’t see.   

I say,

It’s in the arch of my back,   

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Now you understand

Just why my head’s not bowed.   

I don’t shout or jump about

Or have to talk real loud.   

When you see me passing,

It ought to make you proud.

I say,

It’s in the click of my heels,   

The bend of my hair,   

the palm of my hand,   

The need for my care.   

’Cause I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Marriage 

  1. The Applicant

By: Sylvia Plath

Retrieved from: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/57419/the-applicant

First, are you our sort of a person?

Do you wear

A glass eye, false teeth or a crutch,

A brace or a hook,

Rubber breasts or a rubber crotch,

Stitches to show something’s missing? No, no? Then

How can we give you a thing?

Stop crying.

Open your hand.

Empty? Empty. Here is a hand

To fill it and willing

To bring teacups and roll away headaches

And do whatever you tell it.

Will you marry it?

It is guaranteed

To thumb shut your eyes at the end

And dissolve of sorrow.

We make new stock from the salt.

I notice you are stark naked.

How about this suit——

Black and stiff, but not a bad fit.

Will you marry it?

It is waterproof, shatterproof, proof

Against fire and bombs through the roof.

Believe me, they’ll bury you in it.

Now your head, excuse me, is empty.

I have the ticket for that.

Come here, sweetie, out of the closet.

Well, what do you think of that?

Naked as paper to start

But in twenty-five years she’ll be silver,

In fifty, gold.

A living doll, everywhere you look.

It can sew, it can cook,

It can talk, talk, talk.

It works, there is nothing wrong with it.

You have a hole, it’s a poultice.

You have an eye, it’s an image.

My boy, it’s your last resort.

Will you marry it, marry it, marry it.

Identity

  1. I’m Nobody! Who are you? 

By: Emily Dickinson

Retrieved from: https://poets.org/poem/im-nobody-who-are-you-260

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!

How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –
To tell one’s name – the livelong June –
To an admiring Bog!

Fluctuating love 

  1.  “I loved you first: but afterwards your love”

By: Christina Rossetti 

Retrieved from: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/50507/i-loved-you-first-but-afterwards-your-love 

         Poca favilla gran fiamma seconda. – Dante
         
        Ogni altra cosa, ogni pensier va fore,
        E sol ivi con voi rimansi amore. – Petrarca

I loved you first: but afterwards your love

Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song

As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove.

Which owes the other most? my love was long,

And yours one moment seemed to wax more strong;

I loved and guessed at you, you construed me

And loved me for what might or might not be –

Nay, weights and measures do us both a wrong.

For verily love knows not ‘mine’ or ‘thine;’

With separate ‘I’ and ‘thou’ free love has done,

For one is both and both are one in love:

Rich love knows nought of ‘thine that is not mine;’

Both have the strength and both the length thereof,

Both of us, of the love which makes us one.

Motherhood

  1. Mothers

By: Nikki Giovanni 

Retrieved from: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48228/mothers

the last time i was home

to see my mother we kissed

exchanged pleasantries

and unpleasantries pulled a warm   

comforting silence around

us and read separate books

i remember the first time

i consciously saw her

we were living in a three room   

apartment on burns avenue

mommy always sat in the dark

i don’t know how i knew that but she did

that night i stumbled into the kitchen

maybe because i’ve always been

a night person or perhaps because i had wet

the bed

she was sitting on a chair

the room was bathed in moonlight diffused through   

those thousands of panes landlords who rented

to people with children were prone to put in windows   

she may have been smoking but maybe not

her hair was three-quarters her height

which made me a strong believer in the samson myth   

and very black

i’m sure i just hung there by the door

i remember thinking: what a beautiful lady

she was very deliberately waiting

perhaps for my father to come home   

from his night job or maybe for a dream

that had promised to come by   

“come here” she said “i’ll teach you   

a poem: i see the moon

            the moon sees me

            god bless the moon

            and god bless me”   

i taught it to my son

who recited it for her

just to say we must learn   

to bear the pleasures

as we have borne the pains

Diversity 

  1. Four-Eyed Girls

By: Nancy Lee

Retrieved from: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/155336/four-eyed-girls

I’m sitting at the bar

with Mary Katherine Gallagher

watching prospects grind hope

into anything blond.

I’ve peeled off wool tights so

my pleated skirt flashes white

cotton panties when I cross

and uncross. No one notices.

For fun, we switch eyeglasses.

In hers, I drown. Fish wriggle

and shimmer, groove beyond

my reach. She says

Through these glasses

everyone looks thinner. She says,

Why aren’t there more girls

like us in movies? I tell her

there are plenty, floating

in rivers, folded in dumpsters,

naked, nameless. She says,

It’s time for another shooter.

Something to clean the sink

something the bartender

will set on fire, something

that hurts going down.

Culture and relationships

  1. Valentine

By: Lorna Dee Cervantes

Retreived from: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/49589/valentine-56d22bd28689d

Cherry plums suck a week’s soak,

overnight they explode into the scenery of before

your touch. The curtains open on the end of our past.

Pink trumpets on the vines bare to the hummingbirds.

Butterflies unclasp from the purse of their couplings, they

light and open on the doubled hands of eucalyptus fronds.

They sip from the pistils for seven generations that bear

them through another tongue as the first year of our

punishing mathematic begins clicking the calendar

forward. They land like seasoned rocks on the

decks of the cliffs. They take another turn

on the spiral of life where the blossoms

blush & pale in a day of dirty dawn

where the ghost of you webs

your limbs through branches

of cherry plum. Rare bird,

extinct color, you stay in

my dreams in x-ray. In

rerun, the bone of you

stripping sweethearts

folds and layers the

shedding petals of

my grief into a

decayed holo-

gram—my

for ever

empty

art.

Sisterhood

  1. One Sister have I in our house

By: Emily Dickinson 

Retrieved from: https://allpoetry.com/One-Sister-have-I-in-our-house

14

One Sister have I in our house,

And one, a hedge away.

There’s only one recorded,

But both belong to me.

One came the road that I came—

And wore my last year’s gown—

The other, as a bird her nest,

Builded our hearts among.

She did not sing as we did—

It was a different tune—

Herself to her a music

As Bumble bee of June.

Today is far from Childhood—

But up and down the hills

I held her hand the tighter—

Which shortened all the miles—

And still her hum

The years among,

Deceives the Butterfly;

Still in her Eye

The Violets lie

Mouldered this many May.

I spilt the dew—

But took the morn—

I chose this single star

From out the wide night’s numbers—

Sue – forevermore!

Self-discovery

10. The Man and My Soul

By: Julia de Burgos

Retrieved from: https://allpoetry.com/Julia-de-Burgos

What a long caress of action goes up through my veins

wide to go around!

I see myself motionless of meat waiting for the fight

between man and my soul,

and I feel invincible

because my now is strong column of advance

in the dawn that points,

It is a cry of an empty heart in the ship of the world,

It is the effort of a wave lying on a firm beach

to wipe out slander from broken consciences.

between man and my soul

sword has been crossed…

(The mind is an interpreter that translates the force

in ideas moving forward.)

On my side the conscience of man fights

in a sun of principles on the am of the souls.

In the hand of man the hollow is defended

molded sculpture of rules over time.

The fight has sounded…

And I feel touched…

I am over the centuries with the fierceness of waves…

No one touches the shadow that my impulse drove away!

The poems presented were an attempt to make a brief explanation of the woman’s experience, evidently it’s not an exhaustive list. What defines being a woman is an individual experience; all of us are special in our own way. Being a woman, although it has its hardships, is a beautiful experience and it should be celebrated everyday, not just during Women’s History Month. That being said, remember to love and respect yourself and the women in your life; your existence is important. 

Alejandra Negrón Rodríguez is a writer and Events Director at Her Campus at UPR. She manages all chapter events, prioritizing in coordinating and organizing for a range of successful and fun activities. She mostly writes culture and entertainment articles, but as an avid reader, her favorite one’s are book reviews. She is a senior at the University of Puerto Rico, majoring in Political Science with a minor in French. At Her Campus, writing became a muse for her, because she can transform her interests into works for others to enjoy. When she’s not writing, Alejandra reads books or buys them (ask her overwhelming mountain of unread books). Alejandra also loves learning new languages, crocheting, and spending time with her friends.