fabiochiu/medium-articles huggingface dataset:
Regret
By: Tejas Suresh
Tags: Regret, Past, Micropoetry, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

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Will I Ever Love Again?
By: Muthia Huda
Tags: Giving Up, Broken Heart, Love, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Photo by Silviu Cozma from Pexels

Thanks to you now

I can never fall in love

in the same way I did.

I cannot fall fearlessly

even to the sea

they say is safe for me.

I cannot jump without doubts

crippling every corner of my head,

even when he says he’s ready

to catch me there.

The road to love

is never easy anymore.

There are blooming flowers

with its petals

dancing by the wind,

but all I think about

are hidden thorns

and bees that sting.

Because of you,

I have built these walls

as high as clouds.

Because of you,

I have changed from soft

to hard as stone.

Because of you,

I have gone from warm

to cold as frost.

Thanks to you,

now it’s hard to love.

Will I ever love again

anyway?
Watching the Sun
By: Fọlábòmí Àmọ Ó
Tags: Sunset, Romance, Love, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

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That Home
By: Priyanka Srivastava
Tags: Home, Life, Writing, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

That Home

Photo by William Bout on Unsplash

that home was not mine

that home which I left behind.

those toys that heard me

but never consoled me.

those raindrops that created

puddles on the terrace.

the many paper boats that

I drowned. I couldn’t save myself there.

some nights those memories, they come out

from those jars, they sit next to me, till I write

a new poem for my solace.
evolution
By: Deb Ewing
Tags: Sisters, Fishing, A Cornered Gurl, Personal Growth, Poetry

evolution

koi, part 1 of diptych, debora Ewing

once we huddled against the flow

solace touching fin to scale

we grew stronger then

we wrote our love in bubbled laughter

turned sideways to the current

allowing one of us to rest

water cuts into rock

paper grows brittler

spawning tells time

a river runs to its end

if the sun burns too bold

fish will languish in the mud

flopping gasping gills to lungs

perhaps this is where we grew feet

climbed out of the bayou one by one

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A Life I Found
By: Johannes Mudi
Tags: Life Lessons, Poetry On Medium, Life, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

A Life I Found

It’s just one life

I’ll live before I die

Indulging all the gifts in store

Those gifts of life which come with bliss

The warmth of love and family

The kindness shared so tenderly

The smiles expressed in gratitude

The rest of sleep in wonderland

The morning bird breaking the dawn

The helping hands of caring friends

Contentment felt from inner peace

The streams and seas where living teems

The fiery sun for feed and heat

It’s just one life; I’ll live with ease

The stones life brings a path I’ll turn

With it, build bridge of harmony

Admit my wrongs

Learn from my falls

Despise the doubts,

The loss and fears

Weather the storm

I won’t despair
The High Waters — #8
By: Fọlábòmí Àmọ Ó
Tags: Defeat, Depression, Mental Health, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

The waters

have arrived

at my doorstep

Knocking

forcefully

ripping

the hinges off

I’ve wasted

too much time

away from the door

I can no longer run

Or hide from it

anymore

I can no longer

escape

or delay

what is about to come

For

the high waters

shall hit the shore

at the promised time

whether I’m ready

or not.
Old Radio
By: Erica Hu
Tags: Time, Grandpa, Lung Cancer, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Old Radio

photo credit: weiwei

“When the old radio stopped working,

no one knew what to do.”

“And that’s okay,” he says,

“with half a pint of whisky,

I can be on my way.”

Wrinkles on his hand

grow like wild ivy on brownstone.

So at the age of eight,

I started practicing farewell.

Fearing the loss of recognition,

I take pictures of his green vest,

tai-chi shirt,

birthday cakes.

But now,

on the westward train,

I’ve lost my mind

thinking about returning

to a place with light

but no truth

and how time is an open wound

that neither bleeds nor heals.

“It’s not that bad,”

he says,

“after I close my eyes,

at least,

for the first time,

there’s no need to worry about dinner tomorrow.”
SOS Flags
By: Shalini C
Tags: Depression, Mental Health, Suicide Awareness, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Photo by Scott Van Hoy on Unsplash

They always came in whites

From a plume of pale smoke

a flock of pillowed clouds arose

to engulf you in a speed blur

one that made you wonder

if the million cries adrift at sea

soundlessly surged in bottles

could silence the lullaby of crashing waves

and if they ever reached ashore

on the beach that filled your childhood dream

with the sound of conch shells — serene

and swelling deep within

with breath and blood and liquor

An all-encompassing drown of their heat

Red in the whites of your palms

Whites that fill the space between happy noises

Whites that circle the cautionary glare of a skull

Whites that blanch a wound on one side

so it looks green inside — alive

and calm as the cold flesh of stars

a bodiless beacon of surrender

behind a mist of teary eyes

where colours seem to fade

They always came in whites.
My Letter is still Unread . . .
By: Ak, Aaska Aejaz
Tags: Love Letters, Poetry, Desire, A Cornered Gurl, Passion

My Dear,

I feel empty whenever I search for your existence

The pieces of a broken heart are crushing me

like little grains of sand

The grains, which I can’t hold in my fist for a sec

And they fall into my eyes

in the shape of worthless salty drops

I know you, I vision your dreams daily

I can recognize your beautiful eyes,

The eyes of you light up my nights

But the way of your cold sights

freeze my heart like winter winds

are coming to the window

And I feel hardened to move my hands

for closing the last window of hope

The hope in your absence is remaining in me

But I find myself just subsisting,

Like empty and vanished

You are not here . . .

not with me,

Just the letters I write

are with me,

waiting for you to read

the desire of my heart

I expect the return of passion

like I have for you.

. . . With all the Love,

© 2020, All rights reserved!

AUDIO VERSION:

A huge thank you to the wonderful lady! Tre L. Loadholt ❤
The Agriculture of My Words
By: Jonathan Greene
Tags: Creativity, Words, Life, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

The Agriculture of My Words

Photo by Jan Kopřiva on Unsplash

These words get cultivated deep inside of me

from seeds planted by memories and experiences

so that every time I take a drink of water

I grow a stalk of words within

and I watch them climb out of my mouth

and turn into something beautiful

The agriculture of my words is the cultivation

of letters and spacing and fresh air from my mouth

that translates into stanzas that make me proud

to be a conduit for this natural process

of word synthesis — light, breath, and water

I cannot domesticate my words like livestock

or damper my crops with more than natural fertilizer

that helps me grow to my potential

but also allows me to fail softly, into a pillow

that props me up again and nourishes me

The agriculture of my words are roots

buried deep inside the machinations of my brain

until nature calls and my words elope

together for a moment, wedded to the page

and united in the depths of my soul
Hope
By: Javon Goard
Tags: Hope, Perseverance, Life, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Photo by Alexander Milo on Unsplash

Hope is feeling thankful

you took a breath of fresh air

and another is soon to come.

Hope is knowing another door

will open, though many have closed.

Hope is waiting for a fish to bite

in still lake of uncertainty.

Hope is taking a step forward

and with confidence

that the other foot will too.
Our Love Exists
Tags: Heartbreak, Relationships, Love, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Photo by Ina Soulis on Unsplash

We could be fire

but your heart turned cold.

Are you pleased with your performance,

pretending we never existed?

You tell me not to wait,

you’re committed to another.

Choices can’t be abandoned and

I understand

I think of you until it hurts

but I’m slowly becoming numb.

You tell me to move on but

punish me when I do.

What’s so hard?

If seeing me with another is killing you,

swallow your pride and

ask me to wait.

I don’t want this to be over

I don’t want to forget

I know you love me and

I know it’s real.

Stop pretending we never existed.

You’re worth the wait,

if you’ll let me.
The High Waters — #9
By: Fọlábòmí Àmọ Ó
Tags: Water, Depression, Mental Health, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

The waters

have come

My time

is up

There is nowhere

to go

All the paths

are blocked

My knees

are weak

I can’t seem

to move my feet

The water

is too high

What is the point

of running?

All hope

is lost

I can do

nothing more

than to stand

and watch

as the water comes

to put an end

to it all.
Terrestrial
By: Jessica Lee Mcmillan
Tags: Body, Nature, Life, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

The bones can’t situate in fleeing mind

and in fear, the heart is rearranged

The sky is too dizzying now,

petals and hair out of place

You are from the realm of moss:

the biography of Earth,

the sustenance of thought

Cling the cold ground to know it,

let it shiver and quicken you

Let the green water swell to hand

let the phytoplankton bring you

You can’t stay outside yourself,

nor can you drift from skin

Grow your courage from the dregs,

bathe in soil and sea

Your terrestrial senses

will get you through

Your body will write you here,

your body will root you back
calligraphile
By: Tien Skye
Tags: Calligraphy, Mindfulness, Tanka, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

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Blasphemous Rumors
By: Jonathan Greene
Tags: Mental Health, Life, Self-awareness, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Blasphemous Rumors

Photo by Shuto Araki on Unsplash

My life is full of blasphemous rumors

even if they are all inside of my head

this notion that people are talking about me

and actually care about what I say

or what I do or how I dress or anything else

and my mind keeps playing games with me

to make sure I know who is in control

and it’s most definitely not me

because the more and more I try

to stop thinking and start breathing

the more the rumors circle my brain

In one ear and out the other is not true

because for me, it goes in one ear

and then decides to hibernate,

to stay awhile and relax on a couch

until it’s too much for me

and I have to hold my nose

and blow the rumors out my ears

leaving me underwater and drowning

in the plasma of self-confusion

and quixotic blasphemy
He Was A “Classic Man” Who Loved to Break Hearts
By: Tre L. Loadholt
Tags: Heartwork, Music, Haibun, Challenge, A Cornered Gurl

He Was A “Classic Man” Who Loved to Break Hearts

geralt via Pixabay

He was a classic man, I was hooked on him — one sip of his love and he had me. He knew it. Conceited, no, he just knew where he stood and knew that I’d be around, no matter what. He was gifted in the arts of breaking hearts and watching women pick them up and piece them back together again. I swore it wouldn’t be me, it couldn’t be me. He had it in his mind, though — one of these nights, he’d own mine too. And he did. I armored myself with every piece of metal I could find — my heart would be my own. Sadly, I was mistaken. The big payback ended up being my loyalty losing its control and him losing his love for me. How then, did I manage to survive?
Otherness & Othering
By: C. Duhnne
Tags: Growing Up, Society, Racism, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Photo by Raphael Brasileiro from Pexels

One time, while I was living in China,

A white woman told me,

“Oh my god, you look like one of them

but you talk like one of us!”

and how I laughed it off.

I think about that moment a lot;

That allowance

to be “othered.”

We talk about the model minority

like there are shades to otherness

but my colonizer doesn’t see that.

He smiles patronizingly when

I speak with his accent

but doesn’t bother to learn

the language of my ancestors

in a land that his stole.

I think about how we are taught

across generations

to police our thoughts

and gentle our words

so that the colonizer doesn’t feel threatened.

I am told that this is how we beat the system.

My model minority is a majority

branded cheats & thieves

of intellectual property, with no original thought

by very original people

who parrot this rhetoric

while stealing our resources.

They are keen to let us know

that we are less than

because we live in a dictatorship,

because we do not have Freedom.

But the freedom my colonizer has

is delusion. Maybe one can only see chinks

in democracy through slanted eyes.

One time, while I was living in China,

An old Chinese man asked me,

“Where are you from?”

I think about that moment a lot.

That displacement of self

from Culture, History & Space.

I think about how I was taught

to colour myself into the lines

our colonizer has deemed Enough for us.

I think about the thoughtless jokes

we were taught to laugh off;

the caustic remarks we were told was acceptable

I think about how we are reminded

of how lucky we are to have escaped

from the persecution of skin

because of the colour of our passports.

I think about how some of us still

don’t understand the problem.

How some of us still

are willing to be “othered,”

as if we were really equals.
Untested and Unlived Love
By: Gurpreet Dhariwal
Tags: Memories, Haibun, Challenge, A Cornered Gurl, Writing Prompts

Untested and Unlived Love

I have lived with you in bits and pieces. You never wanted to stay and this time I didn’t wish to stop you. You have had your reasons for betraying others. But I didn’t have any so I never betrayed anyone. Your sense of betrayal taught me how damaged and broken you were from inside.

I wish this time you could heal physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

You always taunted me that it wasn’t working between us, and I always tried to ask you what wasn’t working between us? But you never responded and threatened to block me from everywhere. I was smart, though. I knew I couldn’t expect a lifetime of happiness from a weak man.

Hence, I never followed you back. I did let you go.

I am amazed now. You stalk me everywhere. You couldn’t digest how I survived that blow all alone. I did. I am a strong-headed woman, and I knew this time I wouldn’t let you shake my world upside down. It got shaken, and I saw myself on the ground again. This time my soul was hurting more than my body.

But I have forgiven you. I am sure you are going to repeat the same cycle with a new woman too.

I am praying for you. I pray for damaged people. That’s how I know God will heal them by listening to the prayers of an honest heart.

I was hurt by you.

Still, you didn’t take the blame dear.

And I forgave you.
What I Didn’t Know
By: Martha Manning
Tags: Depression, Mental Illness, Suicide, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Photo by Michael Dziedzic on Unsplash

I knew you were gone well before the gun in your hand.

I knew that my skills were no match for the disaster in you.

I knew my boundless love lost its magic by the day.

I knew I had to steel myself for a future without you.

But knowing is bullshit.

Because right now,

In the real,

I am caving in.

I am blind and rudderless in the maelstrom of loss.

I understood so much.

But I didn’t have a clue.

How do I bear my life without you,

In spite of everything I thought I knew?
Breathless: Eye Candy Special
By: Tre L. Loadholt
Tags: Heartwork, Life, Senryu, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

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Black (II)
By: Fọlábòmí Àmọ Ó
Tags: Black, Racism, BlackLivesMatter, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

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Censure
By: Fọlábòmí Àmọ Ó
Tags: Free Speech, Oppression, Protest, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

I wonder

if the world

would ever

hear my voice.

For I don’t know

what it means

to speak

without the fear

of censure

or reproach.
Powerless
By: Muthia Huda
Tags: Anxiety, Self, A Cornered Gurl, Sadness, Poetry

Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko from Pexels

I hate to wait;

to wait and try

to ease my mind

by staying still

nothing to do;

how hefty

nothing can be

to my anxiety

I hate to watch

the things falling

in my own eyes

while I stay weak

nothing to do

nor power had.
Too Heavy to Fly
By: Arp - Alessia Petrolito
Tags: Womanhood, Choices, Life, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Watch her, shimmering, as the room gets colder and colder, and the heater display signals error.

Crouched under piled clothes, her purse upside-down, personal effects scattered on the ground; a sombre day sets to go off.

Never in life, she thought about, pregnant for the second time, yet the light doesn’t reach her eyes.

Something from the past comes back; stiff air, hard life — another stranger, owning a part of her inner side.

Not desire, errors do come by surprise.

Her little thing grew that knowledge inside: scared to fail, scared to rise.

That past shows her every time, others’ trips are too heavy to fly.
An Unfinished Art
By: Priyanka Srivastava
Tags: Poems On Medium, Life, Writing, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

An Unfinished Art

Photo by melih karaahmet on Unsplash

few poems will forever stay in the draft

that’s how they are supposed to be.

like an unfinished art

abandoned in the library of memories.
How are you?
By: Tien Skye
Tags: Mental Health, Social Norms, Life, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

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Dear Readers
By: Priyanka Srivastava
Tags: Creativity, Readers, Writing, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Dear Readers

Photo by Ava Sol on Unsplash

no one sees that island where we are trapped

each day we paint those clouds which help us breathe.

dear readers when you read us you don’t see those bars

each day we need to carve a new window on the page.
Always Dreaming
By: D Abboh
Tags: Hope, Dreams, Life, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Everywhere is chaos and bad news,

disturbed peace warps my worldview.

This seems like one of those times when I’ll trip and fall right into you.

Always dreaming as I gleam the stars appearing in your eyes,

I’m chasing some kind of utopia with each eastern sunrise.

Find me south of any border —

drunk on tequila as the sky dusks the day out of sight,

heart pounding as it pours into your palms and tears sting in my eyes.

Marley said ‘no woman, no cry.’

It’s all in vain

— but we still get so high.

Don’t look down —

just pretend we’re aeroplanes flying across midnight skies.

Always dreaming.

Don’t wake me up tonight.
The Key
By: Fọlábòmí Àmọ Ó
Tags: Happiness, Romance, Love, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

You are

the missing piece

The key

to my heart

The pick

to the lock

The light

to my dark



The cause

of my smile

The guide

to my path

A gift

divine

The love, of my life.
Next
By: Lubna Yusuf
Tags: Life, Haiku, Relationships, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

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Letter From Leah
By: Johannes Mudi
Tags: Captivity, Women, Society, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Letter From Leah

Photo by Anthony Tran on Unsplash

I shared their joy when they were freed

And earnestly prayed to be released

I am Leah, the lone Dapchi girl left in chains

A price I had to pay for my Christian faith

A faith for which I’ve been made a slave



Days became weeks and weeks now years

Each passing day increasing my fears

Whether or not I’ll ever be spared

And return to embrace family and friends



On one of those gruesome nights, I helplessly laid disrobed

As my captors stripped me of my cherished childhood

And added to my burden the travails of motherhood

But I’m more than conquerors, for I trust I’ll be freed



My hope has not failed me

Neither has Christ, for whom

I’m a victim

I am Leah the lone girl left behind

To suffer the fate of Christ divine
Pimple On My Lip
By: Sebastian Wieser
Tags: Life, Self-awareness, Pain, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

I have a pimple on my lip, a painful

pulsating, and inflamed abscess. This

is not just about the infection on my lip

it’s about the corruption of my soul.

The pain is like a swelling river flushing

neuronal stimuli to my brain reminding me

of the ever-expanding papule that absorbs

my attention the whole day long reminding

me about the fact that I am not special.

No, I’m not the famous or inspiring idol I

dream to be, nor am I the kind and humble

monk sitting the whole day in meditation I

am just a normal guy with a pimple on my lip.

It sucks to think about the meaninglessness of

my existence in the greater scheme of things I

mean yeah for the people around me my existence

seems to create a connection that keeps it together.

But when I see myself in the great universe I am

no more than a tiny speck, a piece of matter

a being receiving notifications about trial versions

of my life, which are reminding me my 7 days are over.

Pay now or die trying (to beat the system)

you will never get rid of your own existence

it’s like a deal with the devil, only that the

devil doesn’t exist, yet he still seems to be real.

Pave the way down to hell and show me

where the lights fade out, there I see a

new code for my extended life trial version

Give it to me or I will die, no wait that’s a lie.

I’m dead already, I just see the movie again.

When I was born the decaying of my flesh

began in an endless cycle of eating and

producing new material that you may call I.

I’m tired of thinking what might be, because

the whole idea of thinking is so flawed and

a one-way street. You see there is only the

thinker but no one to listen (except me).

Snap, the swelling explodes, tears are rolling

out of my right eye, I can’t hold it together,

the pain reminds me of my scattered self-esteem

me, the one who sees but is still blind.

Why does it have to be like this? Why me?

I don’t want a pimple on my lip I just

want to be cool and be loved and be

happy for god’s sake. Where did I turn wrong?
harbinger
By: Deb Ewing
Tags: Loneliness, Connection, Nature, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

while I wait for you

I smooth two feathers

while I wait for you

I craft a poem

. . . while I wait

I gird myself with talismans:

a crystal, a ring, a rock in my pocket

each of them gifts

from friends or from crows

. . . wishing me peace

I wish you peace

the sun sets discontent

against my diaphragm and I

. . . wait for you to tell me

You don’t owe me anything

but this hole will eat me entire

. . . tell me you are there
Fantasy
By: Fọlábòmí Àmọ Ó
Tags: Happiness, Couples, Love, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

You tickle

my fantasies

in places

I never knew

still felt

sensation

You excite

my imagination

in corners

I never knew

were still alive

You take away

my breath

at every turn

And you make me

fall in love

again

every single time

I look

into your eyes.
November Mornings
By: Shalini C
Tags: Hope, November, Weather, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

November Mornings

Photo by Klugzy Wugzy on Unsplash

The sun is low-floating under a crisp breeze

Its dust-specks adorn her staticky aureole

knifing through the delinquency

of a lover’s crumpled sheets

Such intrusion of dawn

feels timid to the touch

combed evanescent

into the shivering arousal

of jaundiced blinds

Light rays blush into the room

like hope/with its Saturn rings/

that/in her version of story/

feels nearer than failure

Although temporarily

whatever was bound to happen

is misshapen

/frosted/

/out of breath/

like a forgotten kettle

singing in broken frequencies

But there is a spring in her step

just as the horoscope said

without the wondering

if anything good could ever fall

in the way of cold cleft toes

on a Tuesday November morning.
Crumpled
By: Jonathan Greene
Tags: Mental Health, Life, Self-awareness, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Crumpled

Photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash

Discarded into a corner

by an errant world

one confused by its direction

going straight into a burning sun

without sunglasses

and only a bathing suit on

just waiting for my body

to get crumpled

Disheveled like that old man

wearing that old suit

with holes in his shoes

and only one sock

just hoping no one looks his way

because the suit used to be new

as was he, and now he is only

crumpled

Written all upon

your deepest thoughts

and then tossed away

like memories purged

and experiences waived

so that you could just be alone

to slump down, depressed

and crumpled

My personality crumples

into a small ball

and misses the wastebasket

and even the cleaning crew

doesn’t want to pick me up

because this paper is toxic

and highly combustible

even though it just looks

crumpled

I am paper thwarted

ideas misconceived

writings trashed

and all along

I try to stand up straight

but I just can’t do it

My posture

my body

my energy

are forever crumpled
Eyes don’t lie
By: Elisa Herrera
Tags: Eyes, Love, Short Poem, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

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Those Stars
By: Priyanka Srivastava
Tags: Life, Poetry, Writing, A Cornered Gurl, Stars

Those Stars

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

at the end of the day

you should have those poems

that heard you quietly.

those few words

that caressed your soul

and told you it’s okay to be sad.

at the end of the day

you should have those stars

inside you.
The Cracks
By: Adam Millett
Tags: Beauty, Life, Gratitude, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Acknowledge the beauty

Acknowledge the beauty

The rain is falling

Acknowledge the beauty

The pain is galling

Acknowledge the beauty

The cracks in the road

The cracks in others

Acknowledge the beauty

The cracks in yourself

Acknowledge the beauty

The asymmetric

The unexpected

The sick and infected

The down and dejected

The ones misdirected

The things disconnected

The wrong and rejected

The different perspectives

Acknowledge the beauty

The frenzied collective

Acknowledge the beauty

Acknowledge the beauty

Acknowledge the beauty

The beauty of chaos

The beauty of life
To Please or To Live?
By: Muthia Huda
Tags: Social Media Depression, Social Media, Self Love, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Photo by Prateek Katyal from Pexels

here I am;

posing for likes

all to feel fine

here I am;

acting for likes

though it stings much

here I am;

faking perfection

all for affection

’til one night

I ask myself

about my life;

was I born

to please

or to live?
Feminine Energy
By: Christie Alex Costello
Tags: Self Love, Relationships, Love, A Cornered Gurl, Feminism

The twinkle in her eye says it all. You think you know her, she smells familiar, floral, clean like linen sheets. Her body language greets you like an old friend. You’ve never met her before now, but she seems to know your every move. You lean toward her and she playfully waits to see how far you’ll come. She is hesitant, an indicator that she may have been injured by a lover’s hands. She allows a hand to dance around her, but not close enough to grasp. Open like the air, but closed like a secret box; We all have our mysteries. She hopes one day you’ll know hers.

She surrounds and intoxicates you now. To be fair, you asked that of her at one point or another. Here she is, unpredictable in her ways. She is beautiful and bold, yet delicate and subtle. She is wonderful and delicious and bitter. Her response is expressive and her words float above the clouds. Her laughter after a joke feels like your cigarette after sex. She celebrates yellow-hued energy that draws you in.

Her existence you’ve fathomed, but have yet to understand. All I ask is that you be gentle, she has been poured into like a glass of water and dumped like yesterday’s trash. She is coveted yet often goes unrecognized. The masculine has not always been so easy on her. Her heart handed back so many times. That twinkle in her eye you saw is a tear morphed to a sparkle. She shines brightest in the dark.
Lovely story about persistence in the face of change. We often aren't aware of the legacy we leave.
By: K.C. Knouse
Tags: Music, Dreams, Life, Fiction, A Cornered Gurl

Lovely story about persistence in the face of change. We often aren't aware of the legacy we leave.

I can relate to his telling himself he is still young. I tell myself that, too, but I believe it less with each passing day.
Spirit
By: Adam Millett
Tags: Hope, Society, Poetry, A Cornered Gurl, Spirituality

Misguided

warriors of the light,

caught

between love and fear

in a spiritual garden

where things have long since

ceased to grow.

Difficult to tend to a garden though,

when you do not even know

it is there.
My Cliff
By: Arp - Alessia Petrolito
Tags: Metaphor, Burden Of Dreams, Life, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

My Cliff

(Modified pic from Pxhere)

From the bottom of my cliff, I can’t forget nor forgive.

Smashed on the groundwater all around, your enthusiasm burdens me down.

In-Depth, holding my breath, stuck with this stick, from where I stand — infinite rocky-sand spread.

Soaking wet, laying there.

A long lost voice — from the bottom of my cliff — I ain’t no mermaid.

I can’t forget nor forgive.
october solitaire
By: Erica Hu
Tags: Autumn, Solitude, Vertigo, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

photo credit: me

i’ve waited months for something to fall with:

my lover’s hair⁣

on the bathroom floor;⁣⁣

a meteor blinks

in glorious silence;⁣⁣

chopsticks slip my fingertips

when i reach for too much

i scream today’s date⁣⁣

at every passing leaf ––

“fall! it’s time” ––

yet everyone’s become damn insensitive

when the climate is warmer than usual.

chills

are howling outside,

and i can finally make use of my passion.
Embroidered Bodies
By: Alexa Thorn
Tags: Heartwork, Relationships, Love, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Photo by Catherine Heath on Unsplash

Embroidered Bodies

your lips on mine,

a honeypot —

love dripping down

from the corners

of my mouth

I lick it up shamelessly,

its viscosity iridescent

on my tongue pressed

to your palm just before

it cups my cheek

we dance in the curtains

watery sunlight embroidering

our bodies to

wine-drunk shadows —

fading fast, our heads cut-off

thrown back laughing

you beam at me,

purple-stained teeth

the sun setting in

your eyes —

and I beg,

don’t blink.
Why Did You Fool Me, Snow
By: Darshak Rana
Tags: Winter, Haiku, Snow, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

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About
By: Lubna Yusuf
Tags: Life, Sonnet, Love, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

About

Oil Pastel Lubna Yusuf

As I play my story, rewind-pause-and-replay

I know

Of all I had and wanted and of all I have

Unexpected;

The things I built and worked for

and the ones I got instead

I unlearn my sorrows and relive love

Sweet love that stayed

In fragrance of a summers’ night

I see silent colours in embrace

It grows along the way

with everything in between time, I know

Life is about loss

while in death we only gain
Jungled Lust and the Way We Made Each Other Feel
By: Tre L. Loadholt
Tags: Heartwork, LGBTQ, Music, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Art by Martin Knize via Unsplash

Tigress? Lioness? What were you?

I could palm your secrets

and gift them to the nearest neighbor

if it meant you'd come bouncing

back to a world you left before

I could ever be ready to

watch you go.

Your thundered spirit lives on

in my dreams, I recall how vocal

you were — I listened with intent,

eager to be your sounding board.

We washed the thoughts of

each other — yearned for clean slates.

I don’t want to admit this, but

I will — I’ve been over you

there are just things I hold on to

because they give me pleasure.

You gave me pleasure.

The rain pitter-patters outside

my window and I'm drifting off

to a place I used to fear.

I linger there longer than I should.

I thought you'd meet me.

I thought you'd greet me.

But I was wrong.

We created a jungle out of love,

a wild place where our animalistic

selves could be adventurous without

any apologies for our need to roister

into something unprepared.

We wear the scars from

spontaneity.

Lights on. Lights off.

We're tunnel-visioned old lovers

blazing through another year,

past pain kicking upon

our tongues . . .

We speak for the lost.

We know where they're going.
Lilac Wine
By: Wild Flower
Tags: Music, Life, Pleasure, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Soft and heavy, middle sweet

finer moments within the beat

toes will wriggle heads will bind

I’ll keep sipping on this lilac wine

Brightness sweeps honeyed eyes

unleashed hips tingling thighs

notes are heavy sight is blind

I’ll dance it out with lilac wine

Splendor rises through the vein

tears escape, and smiles remain

freedom wrapped ignite divine

I’ll inspire you with lilac wine

Flowing dress twirling delight

twinkling s t a r s into the night

summer whispers read the signs

I’ll keep sipping this lilac wine
I Already Know Who She Is
By: Jessica Lee Mcmillan
Tags: Women, Hair, Childhood, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

She cried for hair like Rapunzel

when she had skin perfumed peach fuzz

and as her curls grew to fairytale length,

she defied clips colonizing the scalp

for the photo-snapping zealots.

She would not give up

her tattering tresses

for a milestone-making hairdresser

or imposing caretakers

who believe they have a say

how she wears her body.

Now her hair spills

like her fine thoughts,

and she lets the sunned renegade

strands do the talking.

I lovingly work out the knots

from the ethereal locks

like playing a violin.

It’s not rebellion to claim

a prolific nest,

embrace wilderness,

protest the blunting

of hard-earned lengths.

And while I know her power

lies not in her hair,

how could I take her blessed curls

for some arbitrary demand?

The world asks to restrain,

but she’s already told me

who she is.
Appetite
By: Jonathan Greene
Tags: Society, Life, Self, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Appetite

Photo by Joseph Pearson on Unsplash

Maybe I have an appetite for destruction

because I figure, how could it get worse

when misplaced thoughts plague me

and make me hungry for what once was

just a simple burger of society

not one with an egg, special sauce,

and a cheese I can’t even pronounce

but just a plain culture, a plain yogurt

among a row with the fruit at the bottom

My appetite can be wholly destructive

as I starve and binge and gouge

on the world’s crumbs, falling by the wayside

of mouths left undone and agape

because, really, how could it get worse

when my belly says I am hungry

and it’s really just empty

Maybe it’s not my appetite that is the problem

but what is on the menu that is causing

this colossal disturbance in my mind

because instead of just having one page,

this menu is a diner-blast of everything

as if anyone could ever decide like this,

when everything is an option

I guess my appetite is for minimalism

and less is less is less, which is always more

and I don’t want to make all these decisions

on fourteen products that look the same

and market themselves one pinpoint differently

when I can just choose the one in the middle

which is basically me, an average of myself

It’s hard to admit that you have this kind of appetite

and that you don’t even know what you are hungry for

as if the world has platters of food for you

and all you can think about is the vastness of water

or the indescribable silence of nature’s mountains

because now you realize it wasn’t hunger after all

It was just your appetite for life
A Penned Drought
By: Kat Magik
Tags: Resistance, Creativity, Writing, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

I wrote this poem during a weekend feeling as if Winter had crossed my path early; the cold muting sea breeze outside, the sinking need for stillness, the deep-rooted nothingness of observation.

I read a short piece online by one of my fave women — Indian scholar and seed activist Vandana Shiva — and her speech and warning of a potential dystopian future of children learning en masse through remote screens, their lonely attentiveness monitored online, struck a fierce chord of sadness.

I felt as if my pen was sinking beneath the driest desert skin of land . . . an awareness of the times we are living in . . . and then I wrote myself through it.

The above words are me breaking for air, a radical acceptance of the moment.
My Skin
By: Fọlábòmí Àmọ Ó
Tags: BlackLivesMatter, Race, Black, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

I don’t know

how it feels

to be safe

To roam free

with no care

in the world

I don’t have

the luxury

to live

without worry

Or to stop

looking over

my shoulder

As I am not seen

for who I am

I am only seen

for what I look like
rosewater
By: Deb Ewing
Tags: Support, Mourning, Charity, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

rosewater

cemetery in Annandale, Virginia, photo by debora Ewing

how strong must I be

my frayed edges gone unseen

when you come to me for help

but I say no

not for yourself — I get it

once when you were empty

I put in your share of the holiday

you’re always giving

did you notice

a crack in my hollow voice

when you offered to light candles

I said yes, please, for me

if you could do anything

I can’t even raise up the coffin

will you remember my emptiness

later, after shab-e gharib
Heart
Tags: Heartwork, Poems On Medium, Life, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Heart

Photo by Author

is your heart a pressed flower between pages

does it flow easily down a rain-chain on winter nights

or does it wash over beach glass sparkling for a moment

retreating with the tide

a hummingbird flittering between blossoms

hovering above cats

is your heart a garden snake looking for a sunny spot to warm its belly

or is it a golden turning leaf — holding on until it can no longer

is it falling in spinning circles to a wondrous bed of color

or is your heart a salmon in the river madly driven to swim upstream

or does it climb tangled as a vine on a chain-linked fence

is your heart a trembling mouse clutched in the talons of an owl

or is your heart the owl — seldom heard and even more rarely seen

or is it a heron poised still within reeds and mirrored by clear water

or is it a wildflower swaying in the wide-open meadow

a cat curled up and sleeping on a back porch chair

or is your heart a dog barking fiercely at everyone through a window

barking and barking until the right person finally comes home
Toxic
By: Muthia Huda
Tags: Toxic, Relationships, Life, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Learn more. Medium is an open platform where 170 million readers come to find insightful and dynamic thinking. Here, expert and undiscovered voices alike dive into the heart of any topic and bring new ideas to the surface. Learn more

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Hands
By: Naomi Leilani Acosta
Tags: Heartwork, Skin, Short Read, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

A special thank you to Tre L. Loadholt, for giving my words a home among other wonderful, more talented writers than I.

And as always . . .
For A.
By: C. Duhnne
Tags: Death, Friendship, Loss, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Photo by Hernan Pauccara from Pexels

My heart is heavy with an empty grief

Full of words unsaid and things undone

For moments we’ll never have

And chances for those moments eradicated.

The emptiness stretches, prickly pain

Cloying with a grief that’s sickly sweet;

Full of cold winds and warm laughter

Memories and unnamed regrets.

I can’t describe the loneliness that stretches

From the realisation of being left behind

Of knowing that you’ll no longer be

able to just be something, ever again

The knowledge that you are gone gone

is weirdly echoey; a chamber full of nothing.

They say only the greats die young . . .

Maybe I wish you were lesser.

Our time together was short

but the moments were heavy

With well-intentioned smiles

and buoying questions.

You changed my life in ways you probably never ever imagined.

Rest In Peace A.
mountain goat
By: Lina Reisinger
Tags: Home, Film, Women, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

mountain goat. a film by lina reisinger

It was in the way the sun hit the buildings in the morning and in how the shadows would go on to shape themselves.

It was in the sounds of the waking city, in the hustle building up inside of it that left no room for someone like us.

It was in listening to the seagulls talk and in observing how they would turn into stars above us when the night came.

It was in watching the world turn

slowly

that would lead us homeward.
Future
By: Fọlábòmí Àmọ Ó
Tags: Couples, Weddings, Love, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

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The Unwritten Poetry
By: Priyanka Srivastava
Tags: Writers, Thoughs, Writing, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

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Paper Bag
By: Jonathan Greene
Tags: Mental Health, Life, Self, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Paper Bag

Photo by Alexandra Gorn on Unsplash

It’s such a beautiful day

the flowers are in bloom

the sun is shining

the birds are chirping

but all I want to do is

pull this paper bag

down over my head

and get subsumed

by the darkness

Maybe I will be brave

and cut out some eye holes

but I’d rather not see

the melting piss stain

so instead I will be smart

and cut out a mouth hole

but I’d rather not smell

the overflowing litter box

So I’m stuck in the end

leaning my head back

paper bag covering me

content to breathe

out the bottom

and look into entropy

Paper bags on my feet

instead of shoes

because all I am is

a Doordash delivery

of a melancholy milkshake

with a side of macabre

a raised eyebrow

as an epithet to this

confused state of mind

that bounces so fast

that the paper bag

is the only thing

keeping me sane

The second I lift the bag

back up off of my head,

hair rustled, breath tousled,

I see myself clearly

and for the first time

I realize that life

is actually this bright

so I put the bag back on

and resist the eye holes

and allow the darkness

to take me home
this is what happens when I’m my own therapist
By: Deb Ewing
Tags: Respect, Therapy, A Cornered Gurl, Psychology, Poetry

this is what happens when I’m my own therapist

addiction, art by debora Ewing

in your absence

I’ve re-designated your empty space



Projection

Transference

Sublimation

Dissolution



are directed at you,

Nemesis,

polar opposite, dark force

you are safe, in absentia



the database can’t be deleted

it wants purpose

none of this has anything to do with you

in your absence

you are my punching bag
A Plea for Justice
Tags: Poem, Health, Justice, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

Photo Tobi by on Unsplash

Shackles on our feet, cuffs

on our wrists. Paraded as thieves

our crime: success, good gadget

mostly our fashion sense.

Ignorance of our rights isn't our plight

but guns pointed to our heads, we heard

Chika was shot dead yesterday

so we plead for mercy: Sir, please!

"Oga no vex, na 150k be all the money

I get." Don’t be fooled! If he accepts

and we are released, we yell hallelujah

and rain curses with the same breath.

Why? We could be corpses.

You still wonder why we protest

and won’t be hushed?

For Tolu, Jimoh and Eze,

For me and other youths.

Give us justice; End Sars, now!
Warmth In A One-Night-Stand
By: Anthony Cloe Huie
Tags: Eternal Love Story, The One That Got Away, Love Loss, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

At the very worst of times

you can always find warmth in a one-night-stand

Knowing that with the rising of the sun

you’ll reconcile with the many things in life

having gone so very wrong

still the thought of you like a lighthouse

in the storm

helps to keep me strong.

Though in the distance of time

we both know

nothing will ever return to calm

maybe I’ve just been running far too long

maybe you’ve been gone further than beyond

for our love alone to repair

our deepest of despair



At the very worst of times

you can always make love to a lonely heart

knowing you’ll be long gone

come the morning start

Yet matters not the numerous lonely hearts

matters not the endless morning starts

Yours will always be my one and only

illusive heart

Ten Thousand bridges I’ve burnt

Ten Thousand rivers I’ve crossed

Still I lay here

abandoned on the river’s edge

blood-stained and dying

my heart having been ripped out

left hanging from your windows ledge

from my leap of faith

like my courage

having arrived a second too late
The Night
By: Priyanka Srivastava
Tags: Micropoetry, Writing, A Cornered Gurl, Feminism, Poetry

The Night

Photo by Jim DiGritz on Unsplash

the sink looked like leftover dreams

the many cups, the coffee-stained plates

the crumb of strawberry cake.

she rinsed them all quietly and

later smeared coconut cream on her hands

now the time was right to awaken the moon

and inhale the fragrance of jasmine tea

the night awakened quietly.
Arctic Heart
By: Bridgitte Jackson-Buckley
Tags: Heartwork, Wisdom, Love, A Cornered Gurl, Poetry

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