Female Poets Expedition Series


Poetry is an art of expression thru words. It is a way to tell our stories, our feelings, and our opinions about a subject. A poem introduces children to poetry and can help them to develop writing and art skills. Besides, poetry can assist people to overcome traumatic experiences. For these reasons, our project encourages girls and women to engage in Poetry.

Promoting poetry contests in our blog inspires females of any age. Knowing about other female poets around the World give us the support and the motivation to be brave.

Our series “Female Poets Expedition” invite you to embark on a journey and experience the World thru words. Giving all of us – women knowledge and motivation to write messages to change the way that society sees and treats us.

Female Poets Expedition will have a post every Thursday on our main page.

Our first stop is India… See you tomorrow!

Source Image: http://eastendlocal.com/event/poetry-around-the-world/


Poetry Contest: Warrior Goddess Arising

by Shaquana Gardner

Swift like a lion upon prey

Grounded like the gravity of my ME

An awakening has arisen inside of me

My whisper has grown into a RAW, decisively

I am expanding tenfold, righteously

The bulb within me is working, precisely

I am awake


Back like the Queen of the Damned


The Goddess of my soul

The Warrior of my Being

The SheShe of my BeMe




Poetry Contest: What Happened to Sarah?

By Liz Leighton

She was like an expensive dog:
An elaborate pedigree
Paired with a high-strung demeanor
That intensified with age

Upon a senseless flight of fancy
I looked up her death date on Wikipedia


To see if her spirit had flown from her body
Into that of my unborn daughter
So that they may be one

No such luck

I was probably some babbling termagant in my last life

Do you think he did it?

Somebody did it.

But do you think he did it?

I don’t know

She said he did it

He said he didn’t do it

To disbelieve would be a betrayal

I don’t think he did it

But she would know better than I

God stands on the scaffolding of Heaven
But does not deign to look at his mess below


Poetry Contest: I Do This Because I Don’t Think I Can

by Ally Iseman

I do this because I don’t think I can.
Because sometimes I wake up and can’t even stand,
But I do get up and I brush my teeth,
Because you never know who you might meet,
Or what opportunities will present themselves,
Or what ideas you might take off the shelves.

I do this because I don’t think I can.
Because I always thought that I needed a man,
To thrive,
But that was just a lie.
And now I’m finding out what it takes to fly.

I do this because I don’t think I can.
Because the unknown is all that I have in my hand.
My success is found in the actions I take.
It hides just beyond the limits I break,
From within,
Or created outside.
No barrier I meet is a reason to hide,
My greatness.
My rhythm and soul,
Will breakthrough whatever cages my goal.

I do this because I don’t think I can.
To inspire my sisters to be more than a fan,
To walk through the fire created by fears,
So that the rest of their lives will be made up of years,
Of joy,
Of freedom and zest,
For the very best thing that they have left.
The best,
Of themselves in the light.
Empowered by action,
Their dreams taking flight.

I do this because I don’t think I can.
Because carrying my shame seemed like more of a plan.
A cautionary tale of survival,
That I forfeited in order to stage a revival,
Of my life,
My self and my passion,
Which are flowering now in a very full fashion.
I do this because I don’t think I can.
Because knowing our worth involves creating a ban,
On the vampires,
Who drain out our light,
Just as our dreams are about to take flight.

I do this because I don’t think I can.
Because I have no other option than to now take a stand,
For myself,
For my voice and my art,
For without those things I was falling apart,
At the seams,
I lost all of myself.
And regaining that will take far more than wealth.

I do this because I don’t think I can.
Because proving me wrong will allow me to land,
On the truth,
That has always been there,
Lying in front of me naked and bare.
That I’m powerful,
And graceful and strong,
And accepting those facts couldn’t be further from wrong.

I do this because I don’t think I can.
Because the Creative Force in me is breaking the damn,
Built by doubts,
And lies and self hate.
The river is rushing I can no longer wait,
To reveal,
What I know to be true:
I do this because I know you can too.


Poetry Contest: I’m Better Off

by Alivia Massimillo

I’m sure you’re expecting a text
Wondering if I have planned in my head “What comes next?”
But don’t worry,
That won’t come.
Unlike most females my age, I’ve grown numb.
I fear commitment, enjoy breaking ties,
I’ve learned the power and worth of a bunch lies.
Love has proved powerless, in essence, fool’s gold
Struck with heartbreak,
I’ve become someone you can’t shake
So wait for my text,
I assure you, unlike your initial thoughts, I won’t be planning what’s next.


Poetry Contest: Respect

by Marlee Roberts

I think you forgot who you were dealing with
and for a moment, I almost forgot
her too.

She is not a passive woman who waits idly for your return. She works.
She is not a subdued woman who shuts up when you begin to speak. She has a voice.
She is not a reticent woman who suppresses how she feels. She delivers.
She is not proud woman who can’t own up to her mistakes. She asks forgiveness.
She is a not a scapegoat for your own flaws. She is not to blame.
She is not a doormat to be stepped on. She deserves respect.

She is back. She is strong. She has overcome. And she will again.


Poetry Contest: Peacock

by Alexandra Anna Romanczuk

You pry open my pages professing
You’ve read this novel before

Distant and bored

I am a myriad of women

Rewritten every day

Hold me up to the light

Prism am I

Behold the rainbow sight

I am no fish to be caught

In your omniscient silver net

You will not possess me

Though you claim my hip with your hand

I could not bear to be yours

I am Earth’s daughter

Voluminous, blossoming

I am a woman- luminous

The dance of creation swims

In the sway of these too wide hips

For every art

There is a critic

I do not need an offhand sonnet

From an offhand man

To know I am a treasure

You are transparent

A puffed up peacock

Go- I will not bleed


Poetry Contest: Queen

by Patrice Jackson

A queen,
who quintessence should be felt
when making an entrance
leaving a distant, tactile memory
while her spirit leave an ambivalent
feeling on the mind of other queens
trying to figure out her personality
and class

A queen will never settle
her luscious taste is superior
like fine wine
the smell of her prestige fragrance
aroma lingers in the air like a tropical sea breeze
her persona is standoffish and quiescent
bring about envy of another

A queen honors her king
when the connection become rough
she doesn’t distress
she walks with her head uplifted
makes an immolation choice
go into her private surrounding
she go within intercessor prayer
for her king; family

A queen with sky-high confidence
have bittersweet moments
from fellow women
her flamboyant psyche
leave a sour taste
she is often arcane by a few
many try to figure out her secrets


Poetry Contest: An Encyclical on Cosmetology

by Samantha DeFlitch

I am infinite,

cloaked in memory.

My eyes have watched nations rise and fall, my ears
heard the owl cry at midnight. Upon the mountains,
calloused feet walked in moonlit splendor.

I have arms that nurse the sick,
lips that comfort the dying,
a body that holds the bridge between worlds.

A thousand thousand tales burst beneath my skin:

I have seen the northern lights dance
across a vast, unending sky,
joined a hundred candles blazing
on a warm summer’s eve.
Snow and ice my hands have battled
while the sun set, clear and rose, against the horizon
and with frozen bones
I toiled on-

and when they thawed, my fingers
held the thurible as incense rose
through light of stained glass.

I have touched soil.
I have smelled fresh bread.
I have known life and death.
I have watched the moon rise in the north.
I have walked in frosty fields at dawn.

The things I could speak into existence!

But for all my knowledge, you only want to know
why you cannot touch my hair.


Poem Contest: Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

by Mary Willette Hughes

Angry air surrounds him,
turns electric, sizzles.

Her splayed hands thrust out,
arc-spread, like the ribs
of a spider’s web, but his power
sweeps her down, his words
and fist invade her. She fades
into the old, familiar shadows
of shame, anger, silence, pain.

He gathers his weapons of anger,
slams out the kitchen door.

She rises slowly; she vows
to leave his cyclone rage,
to create a life alone. Fragile,
yet tensile as a web-thread, she
seeks her cell phone’s life line,
presses a memorized number
and waits, counting the rings.

She gathers silence, like flowers,
and begins to weave a new design.