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  •, Poem, Poems, Relationships, Social

    Walking Down The Street

    walking down the street

    Walking down the street

    Just trying to get to the coffee shop,

    Passing by a group of men who start whistling,

    Walking a little faster

    Trying to get away from their rude comments,

    Seeking comfort from a phone call to a friend,

    “Should I have worn something different?”

    Walking through the parking lot

    Just going to buy groceries,

    Boys hanging out windows yelling suggestive remarks,

    Walking into the store

    Texting a friend about the crude boys,

    Asking how to make the situation better,

    “I shouldn’t have worn my shorts,”

    Standing at a party

    Just trying to have a good time,

    A boy whispering vulgar things in your ear,

    Walking away from the intrusive teenager

    Trying to escape from his grasp,

    Looking for a friend to talk to and offer their comfort,

    “I should have worn a longer shirt.”

    Unfortunately, most girls will get catcalled in their lives, but we don’t have to let it drag us down! If you get catcalled or have ever gotten catcalled, here is some advice on how to react.

  •, Poem, Poems

    The Labels of Society


    By Caroline Whitney

    The rain outside is turning into hail,
    Pounding down on the cars and making scratches and bruises appear.
    Just like labels do to people.
    Am I a nerd? I mean I care about my grades.
    Am I a jock? I do like to play sports.
    Am I too preppy? I like to always try and find the positive in everything.
    Am I a Democrat? I’m more liberal on certain things than others.
    Am I a Republican? Do I stand too tall?
    Is he a misogynistic male? Most definitely!
    But I have to pick and choose my battles,
    I need to try and let it go.
    Because there will be a time…
    When I’ll need to fight a battle that’ll be a lot worse
    Than a boy who was raised in a home and taught that women were “inferior”

    Is he racist?
    Is she a drug addict!?
    Is he gay? Yeah, so?
    I heard someone say that he thinks that guy is going in the wrong direction
    Because he gives out hugs with too much affection.
    So? I’m assuming you’re homophobic and I have to respect your view
    But just because he doesn’t like girls doesn’t make him any less of a person than me or you.

    I could go on and on and so could others,
    But the world is what we choose to make of it
    Judgments and all.
    There will always be stereotypes,
    Always be labels,
    There will always be opinions —that others have—
    That I absolutely despise.
    But I need to learn to respect them
    Because they’re still a person…
    Even with our contrasting perspectives.
    Am I this? Am I that?
    Am I good? Am I bad?
    Did she do this? Did he do that?
    I don’t know? Maybe you should just ask…
    Instead of forming an opinion of someone
    Without all the facts.
    (A person with a mind, a heart, and a soul.)
    Call me this, call me that
    But you need to have concrete facts to support your extreme beliefs
    We all have our opinions—similar and different.
    I just want respect for mine and for others.

    No matter their hair color, eye color, race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, mannerisms, their likes,
    or their dislikes.
    And I’ll give you my respect in return
    Because if we don’t learn to listen to each other
    The world’s progress will become stagnant for the days to come.
    Please make your opinion of me and others
    On what we do and what we stand for.
    Not where he, she, or me grew up
    Or how he, she, or me looks
    In the end, there will still be people who create and read the labels.
    It’s up to us whether they stick
    Or change into something better.

    Labels can bring frustration and sadness,
    But they could also be seen as a challenge or a tunnel that can lead to our future success.
    Because If we can overcome the mean comments, the crude names, or derogatory terms…
    We’ll be able to feel that much more confident and accomplished….
    The labels of society—will not win.
    It’s you, me, us, and them,
    Do not let the negativity in.
    I know we’re not made of steel,
    But we should always try our best to stay positive, whether it be mentally, physically, or emotionally, and give our wounds time to heal…

    Time for us to grow.
    Let positivity prevail,
    Even when it’s raining hail.

  • Poem, Poems, Writing

    You Taught me to be a Writer; a Poem for my Mother

    You taught me to be a writer

    Since this is Women’s History Month, and mothers can play such a huge role in their daughters’ lives, I wanted to share a poem I wrote dedicated to my mother. She has always been a positive female influence and someone I look up to a lot.


    you gasped as you looked at me for the first time.

    9 pounds, 12 ounces.

    you were just happy i was here.

    you told dad to drive so carefully,

    you were terrified i would wake

    to a loose pebble on the road.

    you named me Grace, cause why not?

    it’s a sweet name, and i was sweet.

    you rocked me to bed each night,

    eyes never leaving mine

    you filled shelves with children’s books

    and let me flip back and forth through them

    pointing to images along the way

    and gargling in glee.

    you got me a easel and teared up

    when i painted a blob and it called it you.

    you let me use all of our tape rolls

    to put together pieces of paper

    with incoherent sentences written on them

    and call it a story.

    you watched movies with me

    and then watched as i went to my bedroom

    to think about them for hours

    and came back with a new movie, created by me.

    at night, you let “i have a headache”

    be my excuse to crawl into bed with you

    and snuggle into your arms as if i was still

    9 pounds, 12 ounces.

    you brushed my hair as tenderly as you could

    even though i still hated it,

    and rubbed sunscreen onto my face

    while i was trying to get on the swing.

    you bought me birthday hats and

    and watched with amusement

    as i used them to throw my stuffed dogs parties

    (and later weddings).

    you smiled when i came home and told you about my elementary school

    reading awards and smiled, even more, when i showed you

    my a+ essays.

    you laughed when i showed you the “oscar-worthy”

    movies me and my friend, and then me and my cousins,

    had created using the power of my ipad’s editing software.

    you cried almost every mother’s day

    when i handed you a letter, or poem, or collage

    and told me never to buy you something

    if i can write you something instead.

    you sat me down next to you one day

    and showed me a website you had found

    for a school called asfa

    and then you celebrated when i became as excited

    about it as you.

    you squealed when i got accepted,

    and you told me i would write amazing things

    even if i didn’t believe you yet.

    and now you hug me and buy me junk food

    every time i tear up and tell you i’m overwhelmed

    you fold my laundry

    every time you can see i’m too stressed.

    you tell me to relax and watch netflix with you

    even when i tell you i have no time

    because you tell me i need a break.

    you ask to read everything i write,

    you give me books from your library to read,

    you told me when i told you

    that maybe i should just be an accountant or something

    no. you’re too talented to punch numbers.

    you need to keep writing.

    and then you squealed again when i got my first publication,

    and again when i won my first writing award,

    you enveloped me in your arms

    with pride i could feel radiating off of you

    and held me, although i may be half a head taller now

    as if i was still

    9 pounds, 12 ounces.

  • Articles, Poem, Poems



    Hearts beating,
    Faster and faster each time.
    Sweaty hands,
    Bodies shaking,
    Can’t feel anything.
    But the safety of your hug,
    My heart skips a beat.
    As your eyes glisten
    Into mine
    Made for each other,
    but not forever.
    That’s love.


    Like poetry? Do you write your own? Submit a piece to be published on Girlspring at

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  • Poems

    A Portrait of Venus, the Loneliest Lover

    A Portrait of Venus

    A Portrait of Venus

    The Loneliest Lover

    Her lady Venus, the planet of love, destroyed herself for the sake of others. Her wells ran dry for the Romantics who turned water into blood quixotic messiahs; nobody ever told her that love is not breaking your ribs to give someone a heart.

    Love is not coal mine canaries singing carbon monoxide songs in your hollow ears as you sleep. Do not be Venus, and lend your broken ribs- do not love with an empty chest; clean out your smoke-blackened lungs, like filtering water, and pour out the bottled love your previous lovers have left you with.

    Do not love with your skin – the glass clean surface of your body. Do not love with the gentle bones you have been given. Do not love with a body so tender it breaks when bent.
    Her lady Venus, the planet of love, though she is two away from the sun she is moonless and casts her eyes to the stars who know her because they too are hot and tired. Her days are longer than most.

    Venus, lover of loneliness, does not love how she used to. She loves now with eyes, with fleeting glances that travel away faster than a comet crosses the view of a child. She loves in baby-pink satin; her sleeping-giant love rests in its robe, waiting, and waiting, and waiting for her next love.

    Her lady Venus, the planet of love, destroyed herself for the sake of others, murmuring carbon monoxide melodies into the ears of Mercury, snapping her ribs to create what she thinks might have been love.

    Venus, my love, lift up your head.

    Do not let Mercury, with his quick wit and sharp tongue, say that love is the aches you have known. Do not let Earth, with her ever-changing warmth, scorch what may have once lived in you.
    Do not let the dust of Mars scare you, for the red will wipe away like white wine.
    Do not let Jupiter’s storm shake you, for she knows not what she does.
    Do not let Saturn, however far away he might be, scare you with his extra guards.
    Do not let Uranus knock you over on your side like all those who came before did.

    Instead, reach out your grey hands and find beauty in the blue that looks like someone you used to know.

    Do not let Neptune frighten you with his stature, but use your heart to calm him.

    Do not let Pluto turn your heart to ice.

    Remember, my lady, that bones heal, the moon will rise again, and rivers will flow, even on the loneliest of eves.

  • Articles, Poem, Poems, Writing

    Equality – a poem


    by Samone Davis

    Equality is the thing that’s in the world for mothers, fathers, boys, and girls. Blacks and whites, we were all separated from state to state we were segregated.

    I see every kid being whipped with wire, they’re being hurt and burned just like fire.

    Women and men, both are sensitive and feel. But women show it, and men conceal.
    For black lives to matter, we must stop the black on black blood splatter.

    So take one look at our past, because
    this will be the last.

    People should be who they want to be, not hiding in a closet unfree.
    Society needs to take a good look inside, we need to support LGBT pride.

    We all want to stop racism.
    We sent black and white men to die in war together, before we could be educated together.

    How come I see every day
    People who always find a reason to discriminate
    Why can’t I have the same opportunities,
    why can’t I be great

    Because mankind has taken the food from my
    plate and left me full of hate
    Let there be no gazing eyes, for equality shall rise

  • Photography, Poem, Poems


    Alone by Tatyana J.

    Loneliness is not a fun game
    Rain pours from your eyes
    Clouds cover your sun
    Dirt kicks you down below
    From where he grows
    The wolf is not the
    Only one howling
    The moon isn’t shining
    Because no one is out
    I’m bored and when one is
    With you, you still feel
    That one open space