Category Archives: Cleave Poem

A Proposition or Two

For Jane Dougherty’s A Month with Yeats – Day Twenty-One Poetry Challenge. I have been indulging my inner warrior with these challenges, but lest you think I am a total bitch for the cause of justice, I do have a tender romantic side. I am a many faceted wonder, if I don’t say so myself. At any rate I have felt a bit guilty for subjecting you to my rants without softening it with a bit of fluff every now and again. So today, as yesterday, I give you two takes on today’s prompt verse from Yeats’, ‘The Ragged Wood’. Both are wrapped around the theme of propositions.  Happy Tuesday!

‘…by water among the trees
The delicate-stepping stag and his lady sigh’ —W.B. Yeats

A Proposition

sunrise comes but once a day
rise with me before it breaks
I’ll make tea; we’ll have some cake
and watch the darkness slip away
I can share my dreams with you
my secrets, promise them to keep
dear, we have all night to sleep
but only dawn to see this view
I propose a kiss, perhaps a swoon
long before the busy, bustled hurry
leave it all to someone else’s worry
we could even linger until noon


And a proposition of a very different kind…in my favorite form…the Cleave (three poems in one. Read column 1 (which are actual quotes of a certain certain), then column 2, finally both columns together top to bottom)

He Said…She Said

I moved in on her / i couldn’t believe it
Very heavily…like a bitch / that son of a bitch
but I couldn’t get there / i was frozen
I’m automatically attracted to beautiful / he just kept coming
Like a magnet / that disgusting face
I don’t even wait / forcing his slimy lips on mine
You can do anything / with those tiny hands
Grab em by the pussy / everywhere…all over me
When you’re a star / no one would believe me though
they let you do it / i’m not rich, or a man
But nobody has more respect / so i just keep my distance
Such a nasty woman / i’ll keep this to myself
She’s certainly not hot / it’s so embarrassing
Why does she keep interrupting? / he could ruin me
There’s nothing I love more than women / it’s just the way things are


Good Witch or…

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.

Mixed Message – A Cleave Poem

Mixed Message

you can be anything you dream / watch how you dress
you are beautiful / you don’t want to give the wrong impression
you are intelligent / but don’t worry that pretty head of yours
you are strong / men will protect you
so take your rightful place / as long as you know your place
use your voice / you know who’s in charge
to change the world / always remember
step up and be counted / behind every successful man
your limitless potential / is a woman
waiting to be realized / a beautiful trophy
is your birthright / to impress the guys
for you are a woman / the weaker sex
magnificent in every way / emotional, compassionate
don’t let them tell you / it’s why women can’t be leaders
who you are / because it threatens manliness
what you can or cannot be / to be considered equal
it is up to you / it’s just not going to happen
so fly my darling girl / don’t make waves
the sky’s the limit / smile and look pretty


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.

The Sun and The Moon

The Sun and The Moon

brilliant as the sun you are / cool as the moon are you
drawing me into your orbit / moving me like the tides
singeing me with white-hot passion / salty swells pounding the strand
warm flush reducing me to ash / over the edge, swirling shards of bone
sweeping me into a smoky haze / foaming flecks of sticky wetness
though others find your face alluring / reflecting flecks of distant luster
your steadfast devotion / illuminating the darkness
greets me at dawn / filling my nights
dewy mist rising / with sweet dreams of eternity
brilliant as the sun by day / cool as the moon’s pale glow
love’s slow burn / consuming me


A Cleave Poem for this week’s Mind Love Miseries’ Menagerie Sunday Writing Prompt Challenge inspired by Pablo Neruda’s Sonnet XVI (see below).

A cleave poem is three poems in one. Read the first column top to bottom, then the second top to bottom, and finally, read each line across top to bottom.

Sonnet XVI by Pablo Neruda

I love the handful of the earth you are.
Because of its meadows, vast as a planet,
I have no other star. You are my replica
of the multiplying universe
Your wide eyes, are the only light I know
from extinguished constellations;
your skin throbs like the streak
of a meteor through rain.
Your hips were that much of the moon for me;
your deep mouth and its delights, that much sun;
your heart, fiery with its long red rays,
was that much ardent light, like honey in the shade.
So I pass across your burning form, kissing
you – compact and planetary, my dove, my globe.


we will never forget 9/11 / how can we forget 11/9

when terror descended / when hatred triumphed

that terrible morning / in the wee hour of three

as we watched in horror / it rendered us speechless

the towers collapsing / our worst fears were confirmed

but we were not broken / the truth was revealed

on that fateful day / we were us versus them

we banded together / now a nation divided

held hands with strangers / forced to look in the mirror

we sang kumbaya / to face our dark demons

we talked about love / emboldened, enraged

promising to remember / reliving past battles

but how soon we forgot / to the winners the spoils

what makes us great, America / First, they declared

our founding principles / we’ll build a great wall

our common ideals / shutter our borders

of life and liberty, / to keep them all out

the pursuit of happiness  / the foreigners, the hungry, the poor

for all who call this nation home / if you are the other

that’s why we gather to remember their names / we don’t want you here

so we will never forget them and / how can we forget

who we were when calamity struck / the day a madman of privilege declared

One America, Red, White and Blue / let’s make America Great


A cleave poem (three poems in one. Read the first Column in standard print as one poem, read the second column in bold print as another and finally read across the entire line for the third.)

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