One of those Monday’s with few minutes to spare, and so, a few Minute poems (8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4/aabb, ccdd, eeff)for Jane Dougherty’s ‘A Month with Yeats’ – Day Twenty, Poetry Challenge inspired by the verse below from Yeats’ poem, ‘The Old Age of Queen Maeve’. The painting is IvanBilibin‘s illustration to a Russian fairy tale about the Firebird, 1899.
‘out of the dark air over her head there came
a murmur of soft words and meeting lips.’—W.B. Yeats
breath to death
in dim-lit sterile cells we wait
to meet our fate
the reeper’s sweep
our souls to keep
medicated interventions
good intentions
stripped dignity
dis-harmony
we rage against eternity
our destiny
is but a breath
to peaceful death
Branded
it’s comes to ‘do you believe them?’
all the women
nothing to lose
who claim abuse
for if you side with privileged men
know in the end
you’ll share their shame
for selfish gain
it really does come down to this
you can’t dismiss
you’ll wear the brand
of where you stand
~ kat
November 21st, 2017 at 4:35 am
The knives are out! Go on, Kat, you’re on a roll!
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November 21st, 2017 at 6:09 am
The pigs are making me do it! 🐷😡
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November 21st, 2017 at 2:14 pm
Brava.. 🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀
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