We’re celebrating the 33rd birthday of Sarah Kay! Let’s appreciate her bold but touching words, engendered by creatively molded thoughts filled with emotions and fostering empathy. She not only brings various aspects of life in front of us but also highlights the themes of empowerment and identity by using the art of repetition she puts emphasis on the traditional women desired by men and how can women overcome this subjugation. These poems are not only a collection of words but messages with a deeper sense of self and call to empowerment.
The type
If you grow up the type of woman men want to look at,
you can let them look at you.
Do not mistake eyes for hands.
Or windows. Or mirrors.
Let them see what a woman looks like.
They may not have ever seen one before.
If you grow up the type of woman men want to touch,
you can let them touch you.
Sometimes it is not you they are reaching for.
Sometimes it is a bottle. A door. A sandwich.
A Pulitzer. Another woman.
But their hands found you first.
Do not mistake yourself for a guardian.
Or a muse. Or a promise. Or a victim. Or a snack.
You are a woman. Skin and bones. Veins and nerves. Hair and sweat.
You are not made of metaphors. Not apologies. Not excuses.
Read the full poem here.
When love arrives
Love changed.
Love disappeared, slowly, like baby teeth.
Loosing parts of me I thought I needed.
Love vanished.
Like an amateur magician everyone could see the trapdoor but me.
Like a flat tire – there were other places I had planned on going.
But my plan didn’t matter.
Love stayed away for years.
And when Love finally reappeared, I barely recognized him.
Love smells different now, had darker eyes.
A broader back, Love came with freckles that I didn’t recognize.
Read the full poem here.
Worst poetry
I refuse to let my words sink to such levels of atrocity,
refuse to submit to “Roses are red, violets are blue, my poetry sucks and it’s all thanks to you!” But you turn my brain to mush and it’s so hard not to let my thoughts run off
in moments of ridiculous romanticism and irrelevant metaphors like-
dipping my tongue and hands into the paint can of my mind,
I splatter gooey gobs of thought onto the wall,
then watching as the rest of the world tries to make sense of my lovesick babble,
they come with black sharpies and try to connect the dots,
forming man-made constellations from my nonsensical thoughts…
Watch a reading of the full poem here.
Love Poem #137
I will wake you up early
even though I know you like to stay through the credits.
I will leave pennies in your pockets,
postage stamps of superheroes
in between the pages of your books,
sugar packets on your kitchen counter.
I will Hansel and Gretel you home.
I talk through movies.
Even ones I have never seen before.
I will love you with too many commas,
but never any asterisks.
There will be more sweat than you are used to.
More skin.
More words than are necessary.
Read the full poem here.
Private parts
There was no secret I didn’t tell him, there was no moment I didn’t share.
We didn’t grow up, we grew in, like ivy wrapping,
moulding each other into perfect yins and yangs.
We kissed with mouths open, breathing his exhale into my inhale.
We could have survived underwater or outer space, breathing only the breathe we traded.
We spelled love, g-i-v-e, I never wanted to hide my body from him —
if I could have I would have given it all away with the rest of me.
I did not know it was possible to save some things for myself.
Watch a reading of the full poem here.