I told my sister one night that I was writing an article on the female imagination.

"Good luck with that one," she said.

Why? I asked

"It's wild. Uncontrollable," she laughingly  responded.

What is the female imagination?

The answer was posed recently at a panel discussion here in LA. Oshun was brought up. Hip Hop too.

But I want to probe femininity further. I have decided to do my own survey. And add the literary twist of poetry.

Female poets, says Crystal Carter, 28, a performance poet from El Paso,  “have a passion for love, self-growth, and sexuality first and foremost. Their poetry is loving, tender and begging you to listen.”

That sounds interesting. How does that compare to male poets?

“Men (on the other hand) have a drive and a passion for political and racial change,” she says.

Well, according to Carter, the dichotomy of imagination sounds quite traditional. Women are the nurturers. Men are the warriors.

What do other people think?

"I think all poets are different, either male or female or transgender,” says Debra Behr, 36, a poet and librarian from New York who has been writing for over twenty years.

“We all carry a bunch of emotional baggage," she says. "Some (poets) are in tune with the energy around them and are able create something magical."

Magic?


"Poetic magic," says Behr, "...a creative orgasm...when the rhythmic words in my head and the heaviness in my chest finally come together into something tangible or at least a release."

Magic. It is such a wonderful imaginative word.

Who do the ladies think are some of the magic poets?

 “Of course Jill Scott,” says Carter. Any others? Carter lists MC Light, the Punani Trilogies, Jewel, and Maya Angelou as her faves. For the males she lists Taalam Acey and Mos Def,

Who does Behr like?

"Marilyn Nelson, Allen Ginsberg, João Pires, Eve Ensler (not really a poet but I love her work) and of course Lou Bardel!” says Behr.

That’s a pretty eclectic mix.

“Women write from the heart and raw emotions. While men write from heart and logic,” opines Carter, who describes her poetry as a diary opened for others to read.

The great male poets like Shelley, Byron, Keats, Whitman, Crane, Sandburg, Lorca, Ginsberg, Shakur and Morrison walked the tight rope between macho and delicacy. Whitman wrote logically and passionately about democracy but he could also muse on the tenderness of love.

We at stageandscreenwriters.com, however, believe there is a natural difference in imagination between the males and females.

For instance, how do Jill Scott and Mos Def compare?

“They both capture love and relationships from the ghetto perspective,” says Carter. “(But) Mos Def is more socially conscious than Jill Scott. A majority of his work focuses on the breakdown and buildup of mankind as a whole, on poverty, violence, drugs and politics in the projects. Jill Scott focuses more on emotions, love, sexuality and female issues.”

Are women more individualistic? And men more socialistic?

"I believe," says Behr, "there is a female imagination just as any individual imagination with or without boobs. It all comes down to our desires and beliefs

In my dreams, I’m in my room 
undressing for bed/ I lay across 
the silk sheets that I just 
spread/ You lay on top of me and I
place my hands on your head 

As you look deeply into my eyes 
I can feel the moisture increasing
between my thighs/ I’m wanting u 
different from how I wanted the 
other guys 

When you put it inside me... 
With u no lies/ No fakin’, 
real pleasure when u hear my 
cries/ Just look into my eyes

Kiss me deeply cause with u 
there’s no limit to how my 
temperature will rise 

You caress me softly across my 
face/ I’m anticipating what lies 
ahead with each embrace/ You move 
your hands slowly.... using your
finger tips/ you softly touch my 
lip 

As you rub the ice cube across 
my mouth I slowly lick the taste 
off with each drip 

When u move your hands down my 
neck/ I try to be nonchalant 
about this explosion inside/ So I
fight hard to keep my feelings 
in check 

You move your hands across my 
breast now I can no longer 
protest/ Under your complete 
control my body is possessed 

You place your lips passionately 
on mine/ The feelings that flow 
through my body is something so 
new, something so divine 

You turn me over and kiss my back/
You have all of my emotions thrown
off track/ I just want to succumb
to your every advance/ 
I can’t break out of this trance 

You lay on top of me from behind 
and enter inside me moving deeper/
I can hear your breathing get 
steeper/ The feeling has me 
burning inside I’m moaning your 
name 

If this thing tonight is just a 
game/ Baby you win I completely 
give in/ As I bite my bottom lip 
trying to fight back my screams 

I don’t ever want to wake...and 
can’t wait to go to sleep at night 
and revisit these dreams 

Debra Behr

The other night,
I dreamed about a man
with a penis for a nose.

A useless object hanging
in the center of his face.

He was old and bald,
And looked a lot like my dad
Or my ex-boyfriend.

He was a freak.
A complete misfit.

I dreamed I saw him once,
in White Hall
Sitting on the stairs.

His penis nose drooped
from between his eyes.

A PENIS NOSE!!!

I believed it had a foreskin.

In the dream,
I wondered how would
he go to the bathroom?

What would happen
if it got erect?

Would he be able to breathe?

Would masturbation be suicide?

And I would be curious to
See him sneeze.

What would come out?

Would he have to wear a condom
if he had a cold?

What was between his legs?

Did women find him attractive?

Did men?

Would men envy him or reject him?


The other night 
I dreamed of a man 
with a penis for a nose -
A useless waste of space.

At least I think it was a dream.