A Woman’s Song, the poetry collection by Diana May-Waldman, brings us poetic reflections on what it is to be a woman in the world today. Her uncensored words are raw and real with her kick to the gut style expressing her passion and a story of survival. May-Waldman writes about the unfortunate challenges in the lives of women: rape, violence, inequality, and dealing with relationships that are often unbalanced. The poems reflect the contradictions of the woman’s song – the hate, the love, the lust, the anguish, the bitterness and, on the other hand, the softness, that are all parts of the full dimensions of being and surviving as a woman. Her emotions are the palate from which the pages of this book are painted. In A Woman’s Song, Diana May-Waldman gives you a clear, direct look into the heart of a woman. With the sharpness of the words and images, this is a book that will disturb, shock you, and bring you to your knees, staring reality in the face. This is a book that will truly move you.
Diana May-Waldman is an award-winning journalist whose poetry has appeared in numerous journals. She was also co-editor of the anthologies Wounds of War: Poets for Peace, and Hip Poetry 2012, and serves as Poetry Editor for Blue Lake Review. She is a strong women’s and children’s advocate. Diana grew up in Ohio and now lives in Rochester, New York.
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What they've been saying about
A Woman’s Song:
"A dazzlingly stark collection of poetry."
"May-Waldman's poetry portrays many challenges of being a woman--a surprising amount for such a slim volume--sad, loving, remembering, and suffering."
"[A]n endearing and empowering 21st century ode to women! Waldman's poetry speaks to many women and on many levels. She reveals hard core truths as well as self-told lies about the nature of being a woman."
Selected poems from A WOMAN'S SONG
I want a penis
I want to give birth to it
so I can teach it to be nice.
Teach it to be gentle,
teach it how to love.
I want it to ejaculate itself on the floor
spread it into the wood
and teach it how to be perfect history
without war and bloody hands.
I want to wash it, dry it,
hang it out to dry on a sunny day.
I want to set it on the window sill
have it look out at the flowers,
look to the sky and listen to the sound
of a child's laughter.
I want to introduce it to my friends,
have them pet it nicely, never being afraid.
I want my penis to feel the tears of women
and understand the animal cruelty of its nature.
I want my penis to be deaf, never listening
to the voices that define what it means to be a man.
You say you love me
then pound my flesh
purple and black,
plums and ash.
You say I am beautiful
then you explode.
And here I am, left open
to trust you in this rage.
It’s not the strength of your body
or the foul words you plunge into me.
It’s the look in your eyes.
Because, I know eyes don’t lie.
I will not stand before you
a child on my knees
pleading with a single tear.
I will crawl away, remembering
how sad your eyes are when they lie...
Like ashes on rose petals.
Candle lit bath, scented oils
shaving my legs, expensive perfume
on my neck, wrists, behind my ears
sliding black stockings
over feet, calves, thighs
pulling lace panties over rounded hips
This ritual of being a woman
for a man
these things to be removed
never for harsh tearing.
This art of seduction
with high heel shoes,
gold earrings, half closed eyes
and glossed lips.
Dancing in the dark
Copyright © 2012 by Diana May-Waldman