Female Troubadour
It's not proper for me to be here
It's not right that I can sing
Because women should be at home
While the men do everything
Don't the men tire of it
Of blocking us women out
They complain about all the work
While women 'sit and pout'
I love being a minstrel
I adore it with all my heart
Even if I'm not supposed to
My poems and I won't part
So on with the female troubadour
On with my poet's soul
Because even if you don't agree
My quill burns like coal
poem by Allison Pardieck
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Lipstick Stained His Coat
Betrayal leaked into his voice
And burned like bile in his throat
Guilt washed over his eyes, left by his choice
His eye brows drew up and lipstick stained his coat
Shame snaked its way through his tousled hair
Down his trousers and around his feet
His guilty gaze shifted here and there
Checking for indication of his retreat
She plastered on her facade of a smile
And opened her arms to welcome him
But, at midnight, sobs washed the bathroom tile
And tears tinged her hair at the ends
poem by Allison Pardieck
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Kahlo
She ran the school hand-in-hand with this boy
Creating mischief and mystery hand-in-hand with this boy
Together, fooling and tricking this man who painted his courage
She gleefully watched this man who painted his courage
She came to school each morning with this boy
Just to watch this mysterious painter man
She left school each night, with this boy
With the trickster boy, left the man
She ran into a block she couldn’t ignore
She was damaged beyond healthy repair
Carrying her as she bled, this boy
Saved her from the wreckage
Then left her to write him time and time again
Never once did he look at her letters, or care
She gave up, gave up on this boy
What could she have loved in this boy?
She picked up a brush and was like the man
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poem by Allison Pardieck
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Love Draws Blood (French to English)
Les pétales de rose à la lueur à minuit
Protection d'un cœur du monde
Enregistrement d'un roman de ceux qui souhaitent un préjudice
Protéger un garçon pour une fille
Elle vient et cueille la tige
Voler le cœur des garçons
Dans le même temps à japper la douleur épines
Les casser en dehors
Les épines, souillé du sang des filles
Crimson sur la tige et épines
Laissant la malédiction garçon lui-même
Et la jeune fille blessée et déchirée
Il n'avait pas voulu la blesser si
Je ne voulais pas de déchirer sa peau
Il avait voulu tenir sa serré
Mais maintenant, il ne peux pas la laisser dans
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poem by Allison Pardieck
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