Reflection (another bit of borrowed feminism)

Based upon some interest from yesterday I post something from the same source without further comment (I added the picture because everyone likes a picture).

It is, once again, a clearly feminist perspective (not that there’s anything wrong with that!) but a little less confronting than yesterday’s offering I think.

It came to me with no title but ‘Reflection’ seems suitable ….

*

Look. Don’t stare

I’m not invisible

But I don’t care

To be an invention

Of desire

Of thoughts that conspire

To recreate

Denigrate 

I am not an image

From a magazine

To be seen

As paper thin

Nothing within

For I am more than skin

Deep. 

So don’t peep

This is not perfection

Nor rejection

So much unknown

Just look

At me

So that you might see

More than your own

Reflection

*

Feminist Writing

Feminist poetry. And literature. There seems to be a lot of it out there …. judging by my feed, anyway. (For Christmas gift ideas, look no further than here) …. And it comes across as somehow above criticism – as though the sensitive subject matter places it in a file labelled ‘protected species’.

So when somebody (who chooses to remain nameless) throws one into my inbox I’m not entirely sure how to react (or how not to react).

So I throw it into the air and give it some space without commenting one way or the other ….. allowing others to judge her, but not me.

*

Tiptoeing alone

Prone.

God forsaken

Taken for granted

The world a long dark corridor

Nothing more

The eyes of the monster

Messing with light

Undressing me

Why fight?

Caressing me

With a cold hand

And colder heart

Why start

To understand

This dance

No chance

Of escape

When life itself

Is rape.

*

More bad poetry

Fresh from discussing bad poetry with a friend (there is a mountain of it out there) I add more of my own to that mountain in response to Sammi.

It’s bad (worse than normal, even) but it is 66 words, as required.

*

Wish you were here

So unclear

Where do we stand together?

One-night stand

I understand

Can it be forever?

You alone?

Should I phone?

Rather than a letter?

Is it too late

To communicate?

Will it make things better?

Wish I was there

But do you care?

Life is such a struggle

A brief affair

It’s truth or dare

So to you this note I smuggle

*

The Poetry Pirate.

I was thinking this morning (for reasons undisclosed I have a lot of time for thinking at present) about what role, if any, I serve in this strange digital space that we all share.

I have thus been forced to acknowledge that much of my time sailing upon the high seas of WordPress is in the search for hidden treasure to pilfer and deface. I am a poetry pirate. When the poetry of others comes into my view I tend to leap aboard before stealing all the good ideas and escorting the original owners off the gangplank and undertaking a shameless defacing of their vessel and then setting it adrift as an unrecognisable piece of wreckage.

There have been lots of victims. You know who you are.

Sorry about that.

My latest victim was Ivor, who you may know as a fellow countryman of mine and published poet of some renown (any brief investigation will reveal that I have not published a word myself, and am a multiple university dropout). I want to publicly thank Ivor for accepting the invasion in the spirit that it was intended.

Ivor was relating, via his poetry, his passing thoughts whilst lying in his hospital bed. Recalling all the wonderful drugs that they hand out freely in hospital as a source of inspiration, I immediately leapt into bed with Ivor and set about my work.

Here is what he had to say ….

*

And I decided to walk

To the south side of the moon

Taking my own spoon

I heard there’s a cheese-cake tasting

A sweet crumbly base

Topped with blueberries and cream

Life’s not about lying in bed

I’ll meet you for a kiss

After school

Down by the old pool

*

…..and here is my response

*

Lying on the pillow

Feeling kind of evangelic

The drugs that they are feeding me

Must be sort of psychedelic

Eclipses out my window

Though that may just be the curtain

‘Cause the nature of the universe

Is suddenly uncertain

Got to hold onto my sanity

So they’ll let me out of here

So in moments of lucidity

I dream of you, my dear

In hope beyond futility

That we will reunite at last

As I revisit treasured moments

And go dredging through our past

Searching through the memories

Recalling special bits

Like the day you met me by the pool

And let me feel your tits

*

So you have all been warned. I take no prisoners.