Tag Poetry

Weaponised

freyathewriter 13 Comments

Image – author’s own

bitter you are, with your lemon sharp teeth,
spouting cruel words from far beneath 
the rasp of your tongue and the knife of your smile,
you may possess beauty, but your character is vile,
your acidic ways are a corrosive salt crown,
your thorns drawing blood from the hearts that you’ve found
and cast aside, they’re so obsolete 
watching you fall from your high horse is delectably sweet 

attack you I must for your arrogant ways,
your character is rotting, there is a malaise
in the depths of your soul (if you have one left),
you may be quite empty, utterly bereft
of love, life and laughter, of joy and delight,
I see there is nothing, something’s not right, 
the source of your venom is just a pretence
it’s a shield, not a sword – it’s all a defence 

*****

Through taking part in the dVerse Open Link Night, I discovered a new-to-me poetry prompt – W3. Organised by David over at The Skeptic’s Kaddish, each week a different poet is Poet of the Week, who’s poem each participant reads before submitting their poem in response to the prompt. The poems are then read by the Poet of the Week who selects the next week’s Poet of the Week.

W3 Prompt #85: Wea’ve Written Weekly’s poet of the week, ladysighs, has prompted us to compose two verses according to the following specifications:

  • “Opposites”:The first and last word of each stanza must be opposites of one another;
    • The two stanzas must use different opposites.
  • No restrictions on form, length, meter, or rhyme;
  • Thematic: Write about emotions, attitudes, and/or moods;

This was fun! I hope you enjoy reading this poem – do hop on over to the link above on The Skeptic’s Kaddish blog to read more of the wonderful poems. You could even take part yourself!

dVerse Poetics – Blessed

freyathewriter 25 Comments

Image – author’s own

We didn’t know we didn’t want it
Until we’d passed it all around
We didn’t know how to stop it
So many six feet under ground

Our homes they began to empty
Some tried to run far away
The brave ones locked the village down 
Others fell to their knees to pray

The vicar held services in the fields
The church was locked up tight
Still the sickness danced in the air
Giving us death deep in the night

We saw not a soul in fourteen months
Our dead in our gardens now rest
The streets have been emptied of laughter and joy
But we are alive, so we must be blessed

*****

Tonight over on dVerse, Merril is our genial host and has asked to write on the theme of giving. I learned a new thing, that the Tuesday after US Thanksgiving is known as Giving Tuesday when people often donate to charitable organisations and non-profits.

Now… true to type, I have at first sight opted for the giving, or passing around, of something unpleasant – disease. My poem is inspired by the village of Eyam in Derbyshire which was infected by the Great Plague in 1665, after a parcel of infected cloth was delivered from London to the village tailor. Under the leadership of the rector, Reverend William Mompesson and his predecessor, Reverend Thomas Stanley, the village took measures to prevent the plague spreading to the surrounding area and also to limit, where possible, spread of disease within the village.

Of the 800 people living in the village, 260 died. If it hadn’t been for the brave actions the community took, the surrounding areas could have been at least as badly affected as Eyam. This is the real gift behind my poem.

The photo above is a window in the village church, telling the story of Eyam and the Great Plague. If you wold like to know more, please check out the village website here.

If you would like to read more poems on the theme of giving, please hop over to dVerse and enjoy! You could also take part if the mood strikes you!

dVerse Quadrille Monday – Nameless

freyathewriter 18 Comments

Image – author’s own

London salivated
over our fresh meat

tabloid hacks
prostituted for pennies
with sketches of our demise
making his name
making their name
off our benighted backs

Name us:

Polly Nicholls
Annie Chapman
Elizabeth Stride
Kate Eddowes
Mary Jane Kelly

He shall not be named 

*****

This week in dVerse Quadrille Monday, our welcoming host Mish asked to mull draw with words a poem based on the word, ‘in any way we feel, as long as the word ‘sketch’ is included somewhere, in some related form. Of course, it being a quadrille, there absolutely must be 44 words in the poem, no more and no less. I’ve counted my offering several times, so I hope I’ve managed to count correctly!

My poem is inspired by the women, the ‘canonical five’ who were brutally murdered at the hands of Jack the Ripper in Victorian London. They were incorrectly much maligned as prostitutes, with this role being looked down on and criticised for decades. Instead, they were poor, working class women, trying to make a life in an extraordinarily tough environment. If you want to find out more about them as women and not just victims, I can highly recommend Hallie Rubenhold’s book The Five. They deserve to be known.

Do head on over to read the imaginative offerings of the poets who make up this wonderful dVerse poetry community – and why not take part yourself?!