Gloria Fuertes (Madrid, 28 de julio de 1917 – Madrid, 27 de noviembre de 1998) fue una poetisa española. Nació en Lavapiés, en la época, un modesto barrio del Madrid antiguo. Su madre era costurera y sirvienta; su padre, bedel. Poco se sabe de su vida familiar, a lo que ha contribuido que la escritora siempre guardara celosamente su intimidad. Se ha especulado sobre su homosexualidad, que aparecería sutilmente declarada en poemas como «Lo que me enerva», «Me siento abierta a todo», «A Jenny», etc. Dice Gloria Fuertes: Sale caro, señores, ser poeta. La gente va y se acuesta tan tranquila que después del trabajo da buen sueño−. Trabajo como esclavo llego a casa, me siento ante la mesa sin cocina, me pongo a meditar lo que sucede. La duda me acribilla todo espanta; comienzo a ser comida por las sombras las horas se me pasan sin bostezo el dormir se me asusta se me huye −escribiendo me da la madrugada−. Y luego los amigos me organizan recitales, a los que acudo y leo como tonta, y la gente no sabe de esto nada. Que me dejo la linfa en lo que escribo, me caigo de la rama de la rima asalto las trincheras de la angustia que nombran su héroe los fantasmas, me cuesta respirar cuando termino. Sale caro señores ser poeta.

María Elena Walsh (Ramos Mejía, Buenos Aires, 1 de febrero de 1930 – Buenos Aires, 10 de enero de 2011) fue una poetisa, escritora, música, cantautora, dramaturga y compositora argentina, especialmente famosa por sus obras infantiles, que ha sido considerada como «mito viviente, prócer cultural y blasón de casi todas las infancias». Por su parte, el escritor Leopoldo Brizuela ha puesto de relieve el valor de su creación diciendo que «lo escrito por María Elena configura la obra más importante de todos los tiempos en su género, comparable a la Alicia de Lewis Carroll o a Pinocho; una obra que revolucionó la manera en que se entendía la relación entre poesía e infancia.» Maria Elena Los juglares son eternos Porque viven en la voz del viento. Elegiste irte en un día señalado, Juglar esquivo de la voz de caña, Un día que conjuga dos dolores, Otro como tú, eligió ese día. En un tiempo, él también Creyó en las palabras y su fuerza y dulzura Para calmar las olas de las duras tempestades Pero sin fe en sí mismo Abandonó en la lucha La consolación de la poesía. Nos diste y nos dejaste Sin reparo, ni medida, ni especulaciones varias, Nos diste así, tranquilamente Como se dan las aguas a los mares, Luego de que atraviesan la montaña. Fuiste tierna y dura A un mismo tiempo; A veces no entendías, Tanta estupidez, Tanta locura, Tanta falta de amor, Tanto destino, Tanta circular versión Tan repetida, Tanta malevolencia. Yo canté contigo Y les canté muy quedo En tiempos que las sombras eran muchas A aquellos que tomados de mi vida Eran la vida toda para mí. Y siempre te canté Cuando en el alma La duda de quien soy y a donde vago Llenaba de tristeza la esperanza Y entonces fui cigarra, Como tú, En noches negras. María Elena, No hace falta mencionar siquiera tu apellido, Siempre serás la María Elena Del tinglado y la luz.

Amy Lawrence Lowell (February 9, 1874 – May 12, 1925) was an American poet of the imagist school from Brookline, Massachusetts, who posthumously won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1926. Amy was born into Brookline’s Lowell family, sister to astronomer Percival Lowell and Harvard president Abbott Lawrence Lowell. She never attended college because her family did not consider it proper for a woman to do so. She compensated for this lack with avid reading and near-obsessive book collecting. She lived as a socialite and travelled widely, turning to poetry in 1902 (age 28) after being inspired by a performance of Eleonora Duse in Europe.

Celia Laighton Thaxter (June 29, 1835 – August 25, 1894) was an American writer of poetry and stories. She was born in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Thaxter grew up in the Isles of Shoals, first on White Island, where her father, Thomas Laighton, was a lighthouse keeper, and then on Smuttynose and Appledore Islands. When she was sixteen, she married Levi Thaxter and moved to the mainland, residing first in Watertown, Massachusetts at a property his father owned. Celia died suddenly while on Appledore Island. She was buried not far from her cottage, which unfortunately burned in the 1914 fire that destroyed The Appledore House hotel.

Lesbia Harford (1891–1927) was an Australian poetesse, novelist and political activist. Lesbia Venner Keogh was the first child of Edmund Joseph Keogh and Beatrice Eleanor Moore, great-great-granddaughter of an Earl of Drogheda. Lesbia was born at Brighton, Victoria, on 9 April 1891. Her father left home for Western Australia when his real estate business failed about 1900. Lesbia advocated free love in human relations. She herself formed lifelong parallel attachments to both men and women, most notably to Katie Lush, philosophy tutor at Ormond College.

Audre Lorde (born Audrey Geraldine Lorde, February 18, 1934 – November 17, 1992) was a Black American writer, feminist, womanist, lesbian, and civil rights activist. As a poet, she is best known for technical mastery and emotional expression, particularly in her poems expressing anger and outrage at civil and social injustices she observed throughout her life. Her poems and prose largely dealt with issues related to civil rights, feminism, and the exploration of black female identity. In relation to non-intersectional feminism in the United States, Lorde famously said, “Those of us who stand outside the circle of this society’s definition of acceptable women; those of us who have been forged in the crucibles of difference—those of us who are poor, who are lesbians, who are Black, who are older—know that survival is not an academic skill. It is learning how to take our differences and make them strengths. For the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house. They may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change. And this fact is only threatening to those women who still define the master’s house as their only source of support.”

“My art and poetry has been a well kept secret most of my life. It has been my best friend, my confidant, my security blanket, my therapy. Writing saved my life at a time when I was drowning in my own tears. I haven’t had any formal training. I just enjoy the arts. If I’m not painting I’m writing so, I think it’s safe to say that I’ve found my voice.”

idek bro.

A creative being,who feels most alive in her element.