IF MY VAGINA COULD TALK – BY IKOROMASOMA EMMANUEL
When was that,
That was when,
Was it in the kitchen
The chair or in bed
Was it so scary
Where did it pass
The juice box or the hole
I can’t even remember
Heard it has V-shape
And hairs all over
But does it, let me check
Oh! Really, it really has
But why is their blood?
Were we born wounded
Or is it a natural thing?
You are a woman
You should know all these
The juicy box vomiting blood
Is a sign of circle.
I had a juicy box too
So fine and attractive until
He smashed and canned it
And placed a baby in me
And the walls of the box
Got broken into pieces
Like a crystal glass.
Even when its weak
And frowns at the phallus
He says it looks like
An old shit matched upon
And smells like the dead.
Then he sent me out
But if my vagina could talk
It would say no to any Harry
Tom and dick, I mean dick.
How did they discover
How sweet it would taste
May be from the sound Vagina
Pleasant like the sound from a lyre
Or from Eden, the garden I mean.
Oh ever since they discovered
The legs of a woman
Has known no peace or joy.
Everyday and every night
She passes through heat
From the pricking phallus.
Now imagine how painful
It will be for those women
Captured and tortured by ISIS
And other terrorist groups
In the hands of war
Whose vagina couldn’t talk.
Yes those women and girls
Being raped every now and then
Everyday,hours,minutes and seconds
And some sold out like slaves
In the league of sex slaves.
Look at me, look at me
These are the scars all over
Like tattoos without colours
Purported by the Book Haram
Yet they say we are not equals
What possible pains would they
Have gone through that is painful
To a woman in labour screaming.
Only the vagina could tell well
But I wish it could talk.
He calls me honey comb
Just to take off my clothes
He bends me to a direction
That suits his position
On the chair, table and in
Bed with his phallus
Whose vanes are stretched
With sexual supplements
And place his hands in
Side where he uses his
Tongue to suck the sweetness
Off my fanny before
Taking a dance on the sheet
Placing him in a climatic state
That state I call orgasm
Yet the day I refuse him
I’m a slut, bitch, and whore
What an abusive words to use.
But if it could talk
it will say I am a woman
The anchor of every house hold
The bone of everyman
I deserve equal right
And respect from society
As much as I give to society
I’m the bedrock of very child
I too am intelligent and smart
Like every man thinks he is
And if it could talk
It would only give permission
To only those it wants in.
And even in society
They tell us we are unequal
We can not hold certain positions
We belong to the other room
But I conquered that notion
When I refused being fucked
Rather the one that fucked.
We are equal to the task
Men where carried by women
I am a woman I deserve respect
Like every man does in society
Society should see me as the
Breathe of the whole world
The window of every home
The pride of every nation
And if my vagina can’t speak
I surely can, and Yes I can!
Written by: Ikoromasoma,Emmanuel
About Me
I am from Rivers State and a native of Okirika. I attended New Era Brilliant College Borikiri, graduated of Rivers State University Port Harcourt were i studied Office and Information Management. I did a certificate program in Uniport in the Department of Theatre and film Studies. I love writing, dancing, and sport. I fell in love with poetry in my secondary school days and ever since poetry has changed my life.
Contact Me
Mail: ikoromasomaemmanuel@yahoo.com
Phone Number: +2347063254607
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