The Prince And The Eleventh Concubine

Poem By Ghada Shahbender

I was not raised for servitude
I was not born into slavery
An eleventh concubine…
I will never be.

I will not howl or crawl
I will not with other lionesses brawl
Into that dark circle…
I will never fall.

I cannot be torn apart and shredded
I cannot be taken as anything but a whole
At the alter of your manliness…
I will not surrender my soul.

A prince you are and a prince I want you to be
To hold tenderly, to mount passionately, to embrace intelligently
But anything less…
You cannot expect from me

For my prince sits high on a manly throne
Of desire, love and respect
And anything less…
Of him I cannot accept.

Comments about The Prince And The Eleventh Concubine

There is no comment submitted by members.

5,0 out of 5
4 total ratings

Other poems of SHAHBENDER

The Warlords Of Poemhunter

I am saddened, in fact dismayed
For the attention that I have paid
To fellow poets who fail to perceive
That they should enlighten and not deceive.

On Arabs, Stench And Filth.

Arabs gave the world Algebra
And the science of Alchemy
When Europe was in its dark ages
And Aristotle was blasphemy.


I no longer know me
I don't want to be
I look in the mirror
and a stranger looks back at me

Lonely Moment

Loneliest moment:
Parrot screeches for attention;
The house is silent.

True Love

Did you ever
Run your fingers through a burning flame
To make sure that it would burn you
Run straight into a closed door