Metal Babe Mayhem and Los Angeles Poet Society present the
2nd Annual Women's Month Poetry Contest!
This year, we asked for your poems about women in music!
2 winners were chosen to win $25 cash and publication in LAPS' Poet Pages, and on www.metalbabemayhem.com!
Congratulations to Joy Rosenberg, author of Let Earth Receive Her Queen, and Angela Rose Flores, author of Rock 'n Roll Grandma,
for their winning poems!
Click above to read their poems!
Honorable Mention to Poets: Jai Allen, Teresa Espinoza, Alexandra Hohmann
Thank you to our judges: Rosie Alonso, Juan Cardenas, Michelle Nugent, & Jessica M. Wilson
Many thanks to all of our participants! It was so much fun for us to read all of your poems! Keep writing on and celebrate women everyday!
Please enjoy the poetry of our Poet contestants!
G isn't for Groupie
by Teresa Espinoza
G isn’t for Groupie.
G is for girls.
G is for guitar and gear.
G is for girls who play guitar and rock just as hard as any guy.
G is for greatness that isn’t measured by gender.
G is for the greater good that can come through music.
G is a musical note.
So please, don’t think that girls are just groupies, we can rock and roll just like you.
G isn’t for groupie.
by Alexandra Hohmann
You sang about being just a girl, then an ex-girlfriend
I was only the former
You wore skater dresses, a bindi, pink hair
I styled my crooked bangs with skinned knees
You laughed too hard at silly things,
an Orange County girl amongst male band mates
I was a tomboy, too
You were the older sister I never had,
the one to unintentionally create a “look”
and make it appear effortless
You delivered your advice
in trademark quavery vocal style,
backed by SKA tempos and electric guitars
Each new album coincided with a new beginning in my life,
marking a maturity milestone
Your band was the stepping stone to a solo career
I too am at a stage of self-discovery,
your words pounding in my headphones,
What you waiting for?
2nd Annual Women's Month Poety Contest
Poetry celebrating Women in Music!
The Black Princess Plays
by Ruth Christopher
She lifted her violin to her shoulder
The light of fiery passion burning in her eyes
Raised her sword to face the battlefront--
The world melted away
Lost its callousness and cruelty for a moment
Eternity kissing the earth in 4/4 time--
And I saw all of it--
The years of toil and struggle
Loves won and lost
Vacuous terror and loneliness
The greatest joys a woman could know--
All of that didn't matter but every detail became significant
Down to the cut of her Italian jacket allowing her arms to dance--
Because every moment, every happiness, every pain
Knit together and the universe contrived
That your soft footed stride
Bring you in front of me outside
With a violin on your shoulder
And your eyes closed tight
Singing the immensity of all in a moment of time
At the Bowl
by Alexandra Hohmann
You wrestle with your two selves
under the Hollywood sign
thousands of eyes
bear witness to your gypsy dance
in Mick Jagger inspired wardrobe
From your bare feet to your expressive hands,
from your untidy hair to your intense expressions,
you shake it out and raise it up,
an offering in song
You become a revival preacher,
overcome by the Machine:
tearing off your blouse,
running across the stage,
a streak of red energy,
a pinging, pulsating light,
your voice an ethereal web
caught in a storm of horns and harp strings
as the outro crescendos.
Carpenter of Love
by Radomir Vojtech Luza
Knocking down door
Of hardware store
With fists of bleach
In spite of Knute Rockne
Afraid of laughter
Without a stitch of clothes
Dawn a squeaking gate
Dusk a rusty grate
Jingles before Jesus
With palms of Peter
Jack hammering Judas
With drums of Atlantis
Murdered by Bulimia
With knots of Anorexia
In sky of tangled rope
By walking nine
by Ruth Starr
Red fingernails skillfully make
chords on her worn guitar
Squinty eyes invite me
We enfold each other with
Tapping feet in tandem for
Hands now lay quietly
On a hospital bed
Bald head on a sagging pillow
Skeletal body in my arms
Softly, “is it o.k.?”
“Yes, it will be good
I’ll find you again."
by Lynn White
a little piece
of her heart
Down by the Water
for PJ Harvey
by Sarah Lilius
You cannot handle
this pure wetness.
a cultural favorite.
I research loveliness
in cold rooms.
Like a daughter, you ask for justice
and candy in a bathtub of warmth.
A perfect day, PJ, your face across
this window, stark with sun,
cracked open with possibility,
strewn with gentle rags.
Black mascara runs for the night,
she’s shaved in the wrong places.
He’s tied up like a liar, rope around
like he’s the victim.
Man size—I think
you’re a heroine
slipping across our tonsils,
shaking fast against the 90s.
My friends (those twats)
in the car, the house,
I turned it up.
Now, I find you,
walking on wind, like Catherine
lying to herself,
dreaming of heights.
My 50 ft. Queenie,
I always got it, music, music, different color,
Is this desire?
LOVE NOTES & NYABINGHI DRUMS
by Jai Allen
Your Love is like music
the song … the dance ... the beat
of hidden tears
You see …
Your love moves
through me like music
the sacred fusion
of resonant notes
composing a piece
I can play
You strike chords
even my rage
You open me up …
see right through me
I have no desire to hide
I trust only you
you stir fry
with magical lyrics
I didn’t know I had
you are my
only in dreams
Hold my faith
close and still
as I sing a transcendent medley
of the greatest Love songs
of all time and space
while I ride the wave
of your Light energy
and disappear within
while Rome burns
while the world makes war
We whirl as the Dervish
never touching the ground
We make music
of deep silence
of single episodes
that tried to last forever
We may not have
the gentle strum
of an acoustic guitar
or the Eastern touch
of a delicate sitar
but we do have the beat
that transcends who we think we are
We don't have it classical
We don't even have it like jazz
but we've got it like Nyabinghi drums
the kind that penetrates the ego
and alters the rhythm
of our heartbeat
the kind that makes us
gasp for breath
and clutch our chest
to keep it all in place
Vibrational healing drums
from the root of sensation
to the core of creation
The kind that crouches
in fetal position
shedding pure as a newborn's
morning rain drop tears
Hot as the Shaman’s fire
Turbulent as the winds of desire
Deep as the waters of the tears
of the broken hearted
Flowing in the rivers of the Ultimate baptism
Pure as the flowing robes of the mystics
Playful and mischievous as the Loa
Throbbing in our earth center
as the Essence of the Ultimate I Am
We pluck the strings
of fragile places
we hide from the world
We've got it real
like Nyabinghi drums
wild and alive
of forgotten rain forests
that still live
in the ethers
of their destruction
We write our names
on the wind
play love songs
for the birds
as we dissolve
weaving our souls together
with threads of golden Light
from pious realms
This is what real Love is made of
It lends life to stone
moves through the emptiness
of a weary world
filling its void with Light
I Am made to come to life
as The Beloved
La Reina Selena
by Teresa Espinoza
To many you were a queen, to me you were inspiration.
To be Mexican, American, we had to be both.
You moved your hips like a washing machine, you made our hearts go bidi bidi bom bom.
You made me want to be a performer, you made me want to fall in love…
Your lips red as rubies, your outfits ahead of their time, I wonder if you ever thought you’d impact so many after all this time?
You lived a fast paced life, one too short but you influenced so many, even to this day we mourn.
If I could have met you today, I’d say thank you so much, you made me believe I could follow my dreams, live and love. I think of you when I look to the stars above, earth may have lost a super star, La Reina Selena but Heaven gained an angel. So, I’ll be dreaming of you tonight forever being thankful for your talent and grace, rest well Selena Quintanilla Perez.
Dusty Road to Stardom
by Gayle Upshaw
She was a quiet young girl, with a lot on her mind,
Living in a dusty, dirty backwards southern town
Bright eyes, and a heart filled with love (secretly hiding a voice blessed from above)
One day away from the meanness at home a meeting headed her towards stardom’s throne
She met who she thought was her way out, her savior, a rescuer a real live boy scout
Slick, clean, dressed to kill, and women hanging off of him, eager to do his will
But she’s the one who caught his eye, can you really sing he ask…let’s give it a try
He said, you’re no joke…body and moves like he’d never seen
Yes… Together they’d make music, a family, he had plans she’d be his queen
But he was not all that he appeared to be…most times he was cruel, evil and mean
Not what she wanted her life to be, she’d make plans to leave, see what she could see
Through the hassle and the fights, she got out …made a super way for her new life
Singing and strengthening her show, even with her background it was sometimes slow
But the girls burst out on the scene, clean, strong and lean
Singing and dancing like no one ever saw before
Opening up a whole other door
Black beauties…they were fierce…their music in a white world
Rock was hers now…her and her girls
They said she looked familiar, (Huh) we all knew who she was…We loved her cause
She was Anna Mae Bullock ...from the wrong side of town
Now she’s Tina Turner……. world renowned…