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Erotic Poetry by Womxn

My dua is love


i am learning that the desire is not dirty. that i need not pray myself clean.

that shame

need not shove me to my knees

forehead to zameen

to bring me closer to my deen


my dua is love

my dua is love


it pours pure like zamzam

through my body

              through her body

through my body

                through her body


we are holy.

we are holy in liquid sighs and sweat soaked skin.

i cannot tell where she ends and i begin

as love interweaves through estuaries of limb

in this tapestry of brown


this is not a sin.

instead a call to prayer


it is a call to prayer

whenever my name leaves her lips with devotion

i know that god is here


whenever i am in her presence

i know that god is here.


Sanah Ahsan @psychology_and_poetry




Damn, that word burns…

How can one utter something so vile?

Slut. Monosyllabic, I wish they knew that

They sound so infantile.

The variety and creativity in Collins’ dictionary

Seemingly offers no limitations, yet your

Vocabulary appears to be at a halt because

You only have one word:


You use this, you dart this at me

As though it is a spear and I am a boar

In the battle field and one pierce through my

Flesh and you have broken me, you

Have won

But I have thrown that same spear and it freely

Rolls off my tongue

Your iron words won’t choke me I

Won’t let you rope me or tie me to anything

That you think is linked with that word:


You use it like it is my name, open your mouth

Go on, BOLDLY proclaim


What, you want me meek?

A face red with shame,

You refer to me as slut but damn it that is

NOT my name

You whisper around me, you mutter and creep

Ten men and one pussy,

Gosh she’s such a fucking freak!

All of these words, circulating me

With the expectation that they are my


Like I won’t be going out tonight, out looking for

Eleven tonight, hell, I might even bump into Twelve and

Thirteen on the way!


I wish that word had more impact, I wish I could be



The original name on my birth certificate erased,

Identity eradicated and altered

Because I am evidently sex crazed

Do her parents know?

She ought to be ashamed,

I am sure she is like her mother, Yes

The man oughtn’t be blamed.

Yes, blame my mother for my ravishing looks that

Make me an appealing lover.

Blame my mother for my ample breasts,

A body so perfect, it’d be a sin not to undress.




You will turn to rain


I want to stretch you out like muscle

After exercise

I want to feel the tendons

Relax and release you

Some days,

I want to tear

You, tendon and all,

From my hamstring


I want to shed you like old leather

Like skin which crisps and falls

Which turns to dust in this sun

Which floats

Like the fluff of a moth

As it goes to die on a doorframe


I will scratch you off

Like dead skin from the

Palms of my hands

I will yawn you out

And stretch you like an ache

Itch you from my kneecap

And sweat you,

In this London heat,

From each of my pores

It will rain you, above us,

And I will listen to you beat on the windows


Georgia Mitchell @_georgiamitchell

Before Digby


I’m pierced between my legs

between my teeth, too

but my feet don’t arch like they used to

oh little clean boy

little green boy

You know more than before

and you suck me slower than a funeral hymn

I am ill now.

Body heavy with disease, I contemplate death and it all seems so peripheral to me and i squeeze out a new life,  I feared my approach would be too quick for a birth, even just a little birth.

Reddening my eyelids

belly big on needle bones

rickety rhythm muttering patois

in my head and perhaps beneath my flanks

dizzied by the sea

for days on end

skin salty and bruised

by you

can we die fishing?

can we find scales for the sea?


Beri Allen-Miller @beriallenmiller

I left that room 

Echoes fly 

Walked away 

And chose to hide





And sighed.


Bridie O’Sullivan @bridieosullivan_


Kat Hudson @kathudson_

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