painting: The Martyr of Solway by John Millias, 1871.
“And like a sunset were her lips,
A stormy sunset on doomed ships;
A citron colour gloomed in her hair,”
From The Wanderings of Oisin: Book One by W. B. Yeats.
she lights up a room / she’s a sorceress
stunning, a vision / a hag, she’s a witch
who’ll take your breath away / a contentious crone,
intelligent, ebullient / never married, alone,
with eyes, deep pools of mystery / entertaining demons in her bed
fierce, strong, confident, fiery / crimson curls crown her head
the handiwork of deities / her strange affliction is plain to see
she listens to her intuition / practicing her alchemy
wise for her years, an inspiration / she sees things others cannot see
she is beautiful inside and out / poison runs through her veins
A Cleave Poem for Jane Dougherty’s Challenge: A month with Yeats: Day Five. Today’s verse is shown above.
I thought about how we think of women. How the very things we admire today in strong, independent women, might have gotten them hung or burned at the stake in previous times. Not that I’m overly optimistic. We still objectify beauty and youth. Methinks we have a little further to evolve before we get it right. Peace. 😊
A Cleave Poem is three poems in one. Read the left column, top to bottom, then the right column, top to bottom. And finally read each line across.