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Woman
By Jay Rose Ana
FAQs about Woman:
How many episodes does Woman have?
The podcast currently has 56 episodes available.
Woman episodes:
April 04, 2022Whispers in the Wind // Spoken Word // Poem Original poem about the calmness of the forest, written at a time when I was feeling low, and yearned for some inner peace.
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...more September 05, 2021Dying Light An original spoken word poem about losing someone you love.
DYING LIGHT
I need to stay, let me look upon you,
And see your smile, as you rest in this place.
Your place is ready, and soon you must leave.
But I dare not move nor can walk away.
Give my sorry to your homeward angel,
Who waits to gently guide you on your way.
Please tell her, from me, she is fortunate.
To have this moment to guide you today.
And say, your smile must remain, here with me,
In my care, as you head through heavens’ gate.
I feel comfort from your warmth upon me.
Let me look upon you, my life can wait.
Your light dries my tears, as they fall from sight.
And your smile fills my strength for tomorrow,
My eyes need to see you not in sorrow,
To give me courage to see through the night.
(c) Jay Rose Ana
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...more August 07, 2021You Are Fabulous An original spoken word poem of affirmation.
YOU ARE FABULOUS
I see you and I respect you.
I am ready to accept you.
Don't be afraid and don't worry.
There is no rush and no hurry.
You're amazing and fabulous.
Your truth is so miraculous.
You are so beautifully whole.
Simply you, not playing a role.
You do not fit into a box.
Nor qualify for a label.
You are uniquely you, and
Of that, you are more than able.
Should you ever struggle to cope.
Let me remind you, you bring hope.
You help me walk another mile.
And your example warms my smile.
Each new dawn lights a hopeful day.
True friends will never walk away.
You shine brightly as you stand tall.
A brilliant beacon for us all.
I see you and I respect you.
I am ready to accept you.
The votes agree unanimous.
You are utterly fabulous.
(c) Jay Rose Ana
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...more August 05, 2021Transgender Dinosaurs An original spoken word poem about being transgender and feeling like an endangered species.
TRANSGENDER DINOSAURS
A million years passed right on by.
Countless dinosaurs lived and died.A fricking great meteor struck the sea.Humans woke to what they could be.Then turned and looked the other way.Someone else’s problem today.Thousands more years, fell on deaf ears.
Monuments stood thousands of years.Millions of lives, slaves cast in stone.Forgotten today, largely unknown.And arguments, and fights, and wars.Over lands, and skies, and fields and shores.Hundreds of years trading on fears.
Promises for sale, delivering tears.The skies now filled with chimney smoke.Ashen hopes in a filthy cloak.Loosening grasp of what life means.Forget the beautiful things we've seen.Tens of years yet millions of tears.
Wondering why, hiding with fears.Went by for us, lines for a bus.Fake deals, two for them one for us.Turning the dial, earning a dime.Struggling to survive, turning to crime.Months pass on by, silently shout.
Why am I here? What's life all about?Some standing tall, bursting with pride.Some can't wait to get off this ride.Some cry, some fall, some die, some shout.Most shrinking small, veiled in doubt.Hours go by, we run out of tea.
To the shops, dishing hate to me.Braving past the ‘isms and ‘phobes.Virtue signals, turning their nose.Clenching fists and keeping scores.Oh god! I miss the dinosaurs.(c) Jay Rose Ana
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SEVERN HEAVEN
I am in heaven.
Everything I imagine.Or ever could imagine.I am in heaven.And who did I find?
I found me right there, dwellin’.No more hate, no one yellin’.I am in heaven.I hover and glide.
Upon the wing of a prayer.Smiling face, the wind in my hair.Oh! I am in heaven.As far as the eyes,
Can see, nothing but heaven.A cooling breeze, waters are clear,Trees are free, heaven.Breathing easily.
No more stress, the air is free.And I feel like me. One, two, threeFour, five, six, heaven.I have found where my heart longs to be.
The place where I can be free, be me.Amidst the graceful streams of heaven.Floating along, the River Severn.(c) Jay Rose Ana
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...more July 31, 2021The Canvas Weeps Original spoken word poetry about feeling out of place.
THE CANVAS WEEPS
Is what I am doing selfish?
Is that why I feel alone?Surrounded by understanding faces.Making carefully considered spaces.For them, not me, the different one.Slowly extracting me from them,
Through the label of assurity.They call it inclusion.Yet, I feel an intrusion.Into their normality.A juxtaposition of morality.Some think it a triviality.
Some call it, losing my marbles.Some call it, tolerance and understanding.Some use transphobic language,A lexicon, created for people like me.A gift, from the world,Thank you so much for describing me.Another form of labelling.
An abstraction of a human painting.Framed within an open prison.Solitary. Alone. Disconnected.Surrounded by walls of solidarity.I am, for the world to see, a moment in time.
Stillness captured, but I am, and always will be, me.A dichotomy. So, I smile, and I wonder.If they will ever see, the love between the layers of me.They do look on with appreciation.
For the sacrifice they make in the name of we.But I am no more than a blend of their tones.Artwork for its colour than meaning.Sporadically put on show, placed prominently,Then veiled and left to gather dust.Just inside the glance of passing feet.But just outside the reach of a heartbeat.So, dust it is, my only friend.
A unique perspective.A beautiful never.A lost forever.A sealed window to a selfish me.And there, right there, amongst the dust.The colours fade.As the years pass,
The frame gently splinters.And over many, many, winters.The dust keeps,And the canvas weeps.(c) Jay Rose Ana
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...more July 31, 2021A Lucid Dream Original spoken word poetry about an impossible awakening from a dream state, and yet, it happened in 2009. It never happened before, nor since, and I simply cannot explain it.
A LUCID DREAM
I once had a dream.
A waking dream.
Lucid, I believe it is called.
I was heading down some stairs,
In a dusty old brown house.
One hand upon the wall.
The other, well, I don’t recall.
My body was moving,
Like on a sleepy ride.
But my mind was awake,
Somewhere deep inside.
I remember thinking.
Whilst wide eyed blinking.
That I have been here before.
And in a moment,
I felt the urge to explore.
My movement felt poetic,
But restricted, under anaesthetic.
And my limbs did not obey.
Like I was on the tracks of a railway.
As I descended the stairs.
I could feel the hairs,
On the back of my neck.
I was too nervous to check.
But I wasn’t afraid.
The reason because,
This is my grans house.
Or, at least, it was.
My gran has been gone,
For many, many years.
So, this dream is impossible,
Which increased my fears.
And in that moment,
My mind popped awake.
And in these ominous surroundings,
I started to shake.
I would like to say my gran was remarkable.
And to me she was.
As a child her light was considerable.
For the rest of the world,
She was the outcome of missed opportunity.
Filling her lungs daily with impurity.
Fourty cigarettes a day was what she had.
Sixty if the day was really bad.
Six days per week.
And on the seventh day, well, she had bingo.
A gin and tonic accompanied a pint.
The pint was never drunk, it was only for show.
A full glass overflowing, for those who would never know.
But I need to know.
What is going on?
I try to raise a hand.
It’s held back by the morning sun.
It was shining through the glass of the front door.
And, if I could feel that,
I wanted to feel more.
I felt my body turn.
It was no longer at rest.
I tried to stay steady,
And I tried to protest.
Slowly, I reached for the latch of the door.
I turned the lock, it clicked, then clicked once more.
And the door started to open,
Its seal now broken.
And the outside sun poured in.
And, relieved, I let out a grin.
And then I felt a jolt,
In the pit of my soul.
Invisible elastic pulling me back up the stairs.
Something else was in control.
And then I sat up,
In bed, wide awake.
And as I calmed down,
I thought, was this a mistake?
And as I felt the shaking cease,
I embraced an inner peace.
Sitting upon my divan.
I felt blessed, to remember my gran.
(c) Jay Rose Ana
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...more July 26, 2021What Will You Be? Original spoken word poetry about searching for someone to share your journey.
WHAT WILL YOU BE?
Who or what will I be?
Where and when will you see?When can I be just me?Where can I live freely?My future I foresee.
Rescind he for just she.Push back years of debris.Find myself and face me.Who out there will hold me?
Be my one devotee?I swear if you find me.From you I will not flee.You know where to find me.
Just beneath the oak tree.The thought I have for thee.Who or what will you be?(c) Jay Rose Ana
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...more July 26, 20211976 Nancy Boy Original spoken word poetry about gender dysphoria and growing up in the 1970s.
1976 NANCY BOY
Smoke. Industrial smoke. Chimney smoke.
Thick smoke from un-serviced motor cars.
Smoke from life-long chain smokers, roll ups,
Cigarettes of a thousand brands,
Filled with rubbish shared by dirty hands.
Rubbish in filthy streets piled so high,
Swarms of houseflies don’t have to try.
And bile, darned socks, and untied laces,
String-tied shorts, hand-me-down unwashed shirts,
Kicking cans with dirty washed faces.
Laughing at a dying cat, trampled, kicked,
Not even left to scream its last breath.
Furless tail, passed round, a party piece.
Tossed like trash into the old canal,
Stones and sticks, a welcome grasp below.
Finding splice amongst shopping trolleys.
The wail of sirens pierces laughter.
The merry group, off to school, to learn,
Of things, their brief lives, will never use.
The furnace awaits, smoke and fumes.
Cheap cigarettes at the school gates,
Under the headmaster’s watching eye.
Cane in hand, face or hands, he doesn’t mind.
Teachers leave the quiet kid alone,
Circled by captors standing on thrones.
Taunting the Nancy boy, he submits.
Bruised, crying, the shrieking school bell sounds,
And he, accepts his fate, floating down.
Beyond hope, into the dumbed down depths,
Holding breath, in the classroom canal.
Finding splice with dead bugs in his desk.
It is better than the place called home.
A painful whack wakes the escape.
Smirks, and pain, and taunts, his classroom friends.
A Nancy boys life, so she must wait, and hold her breath.
(c) Jay Rose Ana
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...more July 23, 2021Disappointment Original spoken word poetry about believing in yourself when faced with disappointment.
DISAPPOINTMENT
Your clear disappointment in me.
I saw it immediately.
Cloudy, grey ash topped with black slate.
Your pursed thin lips, condemn my fate.
Suspense hung in the morning air.
Pressing firmly upon my hair.
The briefest flicker of your eyes.
About to pronounce something wise.
Self-assuming, I come to grips.
Attempt to lift my heavy chips.
And hear the sharp tone of your word.
“There is always next time”, I heard.
Spoken by you with half a heart,
Pass judgement, end without start.
A harsh line in hypocrisy.
Your verdict, my mediocrity.
“You learn a lesson when you fail!”
Rising emotions, alarms wail.
“Learn to accept disappointment!”
Reconsider your employment.
A brief lesson in history.
Metaphors fill the mystery.
Rise and fall of unknown nations.
"Learn to manage your frustrations!"
A lot of searching of the soul.
Their misplaced words do not console.
Learning, lots of preparation.
Discouraging separation.
“It makes you stronger” I am told.
Let the reworked quotes, unfold.
“Stay focused, look on the bright side”.
I want a ticket off this ride.
As childhood itself was indeed,
Preparation, the planted seed.
The place where disapproval breeds.
Stamping out joy and other needs.
Original thought, how to cope.
Passion, imagination, hope.
In favour of what? Want and greed.
Are these things we really need?
Stress, anxiety, hanging rope.
Grasping to the slippery slope.
“Don’t let this setback, get you down.”
"Persevere, you will get your crown".
“People have succeeded from worse.”
And the rest, march behind the hearse.
Better that, than laid within it.
It doesn't matter how you spin it.
You were way too quick off the mark.
To pour water over my spark.
Inopportune. Ahead of time.
But your confidence was sublime.
A poor initial assumption.
Though you may show no compunction.
A premature disappointment.
Falsely grounded, somewhat poignant.
I most happily succeeded.
You assumed my joy was impeded.
And my quiet jubilation.
Unaffected by dissuasion.
You underestimated me.
You closed your eyes and did not see.
Your disappointment I endure.
My personal belief, demure.
I am not a disappointment.
A plaything for your enjoyment.
Judge me on your personal scale.
Because I succeed where you fail.
I am proud of my own success.
Whilst you pick apart and obsess.
Something you may want to think through.
The disappointment here, is you.
(c) Jay Rose Ana
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...more
FAQs about Woman:
How many episodes does Woman have?
The podcast currently has 56 episodes available.