The Theory of Women - Sunday Features 18/09/2011

The Theory of Women


The features this week were inspired by the wonderful poem by RhythmImpulse which we have previously featured here in Pink Panther Magazine. Each time I read it, it touches my heart, enriches me in a place deep within and makes me want to dance with joy. So, today we explore all those aspects that make us who and what we are.

The Theory of Women © by RhythmImpulse
Women are more than people with
Hair colored by the sun’s wispy hands.
A woman refuses to let jagged lighting
Strike her skin during the storm,
And she can see the rainbow swirls
In gasoline puddles afterwards.
She can unroll the blanket of an
Ebony sky and stitch it seamlessly
With luminous stars,
Even when her efforts are
Blotted out by a masculine hand.
A woman is daring enough
To pluck every word from a blade of grass,
And even if one letter is fizzy and bitter,
A woman will always appreciate what the
World will grow beneath her feet.

I love this haunting image by Janis Zroback, with its subtle colours and strong message of womanhood.

Only Women Bleed..Portrait © by by Janis Zroback


Jenifer’s poetry always inspires me and fills me with wonder. How does she find the words to express herself so beautifully? Here she explores the issues of who we are, where we have come from, our hopes and aspirations. She does indeed leave us with a legacy of hope.

Where I’m From © by Jenifer DeBellis
I am from the reddest ripe apple,
one part mystery, one part innocence lost.
From the cobwebs in dark corners
to the dust bunnies under bed skirts
I am my mother’s best life lesson.
I am what washed up one moonless night
upon an unsuspecting spiritual shore.
I am new roots from the old country,
vine-ripened and plucked with care
in due time by seasoned, ancient hands.
I am not definable by worldly conventions:
a cupped hand without end, a box
without edges, a heart without boundaries.
From the oppression that held
the working class back, I am the one
who pushed to run harder, to run faster.
I am the love child of faith that surpasses
understanding; I talk back to those mountains.
Upon rooftops I breathe energy into
constellations before they fade into oblivion.
I am a little girl trapped in a woman’s body,
always imagining, often contemplating,
usually adding an extra bow for good measure.
I am the bridge between two great bodies
and I drink from the river of life
that I might stand in the gap which bonds
my ancestral roots with the ones
reaching into the wind before their time
of bloom. I’m a seed fallen from the mouth
of a raven, and once returned to the earth
I leave a legacy that will pepper the world.

Inspired by “Memoirs of a Geisha”, Christina explores the concept of inner beauty. It is a powerful image, and one I keep wanting to return to to explore more deeply.
“So lost within ourselves…it seems so hard for one to appreciate true beauty…
As women we tend to hide behind masks of beauty, for our true beauty seems to go unnoticed…as will it always be…
These silent tears we shed…the yearning for our freedom…these are our stories…”
Christina Rodriguez.

Lost Within, This Extravagant Beauty… © by Christina Rodriguez


This short and deceptively simple poem by Su2anne, expresses so succinctly all that we feel about the media influences on the way in which we see ourselves. When will we ever develop the confidence just to be?

Tethered © by su2anne
Unleash
The monster
That is our shame.
Too skinny
Too fat.
Debunk The myth
Of perfect
And blemished.
Have The courage
To BE!

I feel such empathy with this image from Marlies, with its haunting face and symbolic colours of mourning. It reminds me of the agonies suffered by first love.

Torn love letter 2 © by by Marlies Odehnal


ShadowDancer takes us back to this time of love and loves lost, and takes us by surprise at the end with it’s twist. This is a message that should be shouted out loud to our daughters and grand daughters. We can soar if we so chose.

a fable of heaven and hell, or something like it © by ShadowDancer
and so, the story starts:
a bird of prey, flying high
eyed his meal from afar
(he watched from another sky…)
enter:
the sparrow of her heart
who ignored the shadows
that hovered and
danced like death above her
and in pure naïve fashion
closed her eyes
to feel the rush of her feathers
vibrate to the sound of the wind
with the hope of reaching heaven
—or something like it
(for she would much rather be in a dream
than acknowledge the claws coming towards her)
cue music:
with one dramatic swoop
as the violin played urgently
she felt a scream bubble inside of her heart
why was she surprised when
she found the earth against her,
dirt on her fragile wings,
and her death on his breath?
dramatic silence:
oh, my fragile sparrow
yes, her heart fell,
fell for him and into him.
the final act:
the raptor flies away
content with the evil in his heart,
belly full from his selfishness
little does he know
that instead of
dying
this little sparrow
is finding her wings again
and will fly to a place
that his heart
is incapable of going

‘Dare’ by Susan Ringler takes us into the realms of self esteem and self doubt, with Susan shocking us into realising how much this self doubt impedes our lives. I love it.
“Self esteem for females
Everyone should live by this thought.
Many of us are afraid to try things for fear of failure.” Susan Ringler

Dare © by Susan Ringler


What a beautiful and inspirational poem this is.

A Goddess’s Child © by chitrali
There’s a Goddess somewhere,
waiting to claim me,
as Her child.
There’s a Goddess somewhere,
willing to accept me,
into Her Grace.
There’s a Goddess somewhere,
willing to welcome me,
into Her Divine Presence,
offer me Her protection,
shower me with Her kindness and warmth..
.
.
There’s a Goddess somewhere..
waiting to surround me,
with Her Infinite Love.
.
.
That Goddess is me,
and someday I hope to be worthy
of Her,
someday I hope to be worthy,
to be Her child.

One of my favourite songs is ‘Je ne regret rien’ by Edith Piaf. Ariana’s lovely image reminds me of the passion within the song and infuses us all with delight. It makes me want to go have some fun.

Never, ever regret something that made you smile © by ARIANA1985


Here, you can almost feel the sunlight and taste the juices that infuse this wonderful poem by alMara.

When the juice flows © by alMara
When it is warm
And the wind blows
The trees creak
The roses speak
When the watermelon is deep galah pink
And greener than a tree frog
I cut a piece so big
I can’t see my feet when I raise it to my mouth
I take a bite, huge, so my cheeks are cradled by fruit
And I am only there at that moment
When the juice flows
Up my nose
Down my chin
Flowing, running, swimming down my wrists
Into the valleys which are my elbow creases
Life is at its best
When the juice flows
I smell young, hazy summers
I recall hay and the squish of dam mud through my toes
I remember the pulsating of so much nameless want
And joyful confusing moments under peppercorn trees
I hear gleeful shouts and sudden laughter
And childish sing-song chants
I hear muffled Top 40 songs from my hidden under pillow trannie
And the giggling niggling of sleepy siblings in the back of the Holden station wagon
I see all this, I hear all this, I am all this
When the juice flows
© alMara

Wisdom, healing, beauty and warmth – all are part of what we are, and are depicted stunningly in this image from Rosy.

Untitled © by Rosy H


And sometimes it is just so beautiful to float ‘where the air is thin’ and to give ourselves some me-time. Sybille’s poem transports me into a place where there is a safe haven of peace

Floating © by Sybille Sterk
floating
              high above the ground
              where the air is thin
              and the world is far
in a sea of clouds
so soft so sweet
playing hide and seek
              in the bright glow of the sun
              shimmering prisms
              in the everlasting light
of moon and stars
dipped in rainbows
and the aurora borealis
              far above the rain
              and tears
              removed from pain
              and hurt
in a cocoon
of candy floss
and golden syrup
              drifting
              aimlessly
              through
              eternity.