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Welcome to Poet's Corner! This is a section dedicated to showcasing the work of talented young poets, and occasionally, talented old poets!  

Interested in sending us your work? Submit your work for consideration to our Arts Editor at:
artseditor@kbiinspires.com Please fill out our submission form here.

The Man

By: Abbigail L.M, IG: @abbigailm

I look in the mirror through the eyes of a man

because a woman loves me in a sentimental way

a way in which flesh is nothing

but a shell for my humanly characteristics

where I am kind and intelligent.

to a woman, I am a brain and bones.

Bones that were built through what feels like endless years of being told 

they were never good enough.

Everyday as my flesh ages so slightly,

my bones and my brain become

more of who I am meant to be.

As long as the two continue to grow,

I will loose my worth

as the flesh of a woman like myself

are only pleasing for so long.

to a man,

my worth will fade as my appearance does

but my suffering wil continue

as long as I am controlled by

even nothing more than the idea of a man.

THE PEACOCK AND THE PIGEON

By: Maya Mele, IG: @Mykasreads 

FOR IF I WERE A HOMELY PIGEON, SIN WOULD NOT HAVE BESTOWED ME.FOR IF I WERE LIKE THE MODEST PIGEON, THE EGOS OF ALL WOULD LEAVE ME REST. MY FEATHERS WOULD BE DENUDED OF ALLURING PATTERNS AND BLANKETED WITH ASH TO PRESENT ME AS GRAY. FOR THE PIGEON ENCOUNTERS SENSATIONS OF SOLELY CONTENT EVERY PASSING DAY.

NIGHT AND MORNING, THE PIGEON TRIES TO SING; I HEAR HER WORDS AND THE DISARRAY. BUT IF I WERE THE PIGEON, I WOULD NOT CARE FOR SONG, FOR IT IS THE LACK OF JOY THAT MY BEAUTY BRINGS UPON. FOR THE FEELINGS SUPPOSED TO RISE WITHIN MY HEART FAIL TO SPAWN WHAT I HAVE LOST FOR SO LONG. BUT THE PIGEON IS CONTENT AND NEVER FAILS TO EXPRESS HER JOY FROM NIGHT TILL DAWN. FOR IF I WERE LIKE THE HIDEOUS PIGEON, I WOULD NO LONGER PERCH UPON LUSH TREES.FOR I WOULD SIT WHERE THE PIGEON LIVES, AMONG THE UNWANTED AND DISPLEASED.

I CARE NO MORE FOR BEAUTY, NOR FOR THE EYES OF ALL FOR ALL I DESIRE IS THE ACTION OF WITHDRAWAL. THUS, IN MY DESOLATE CAVE, I NOW RESIDE, WHERE I NO LONGER BEAR APHRODITE'S HAND. WHOSE ONCE GENTLE TOUCH HAS BECOME A WRETCHED CLUTCH. FOR IF I WERE THE HOMELY PIGEON WOULD NOT FEEL THIS PAIN. FOR NOW, I LAY IN BEAUTY'S OLDEN GRAVE. 

All She Is

By Kristina Nikitopoulos

 

Why wasn't she getting this praise before, when the scale frowned at her?

Why was she not viewed as pretty because the scale was a little higher than 150? And why was her life turned into a beauty pageant where no matter what she did they made her feel imperfect?

 

Women fight the stereotypes that being skinny equals being pretty, 

But why is she only feeling loved when she looks the way they want her to look?

And why is she only feeling human when she gets validation from others?

 

She thinks back to who she used to be,

because she doesn’t know her anymore. 

She looks in the mirror at someone she can't even recognize. 

The person she used to be. 

The kind, genuine, innocent girl she was last year is replaced by a different person. 

A girl who thrives and breathes off of men telling her she's pretty. 

A girl who can't go a day without running on the treadmill. 

A girl who only likes herself when others like her. 

 

A girl who can no longer live,

Because she is surviving. 

A girl who cant forget her past because no matter how hard she tries she still believes,

beauty is all she is.