womanly poems for womanly women

[Byron In Exile]

Heehee. I knew you'd come in and say that.

Even we shadows have a function sometimes...

 

[bogusbrig]

Here's a girly poem by Brian Patten, who seems to write a lot about schoolgirls which I guess should go on a thread titled Pervy Poems For Pervy people. However he doesn't mention schoolgirls in this one.

Doubt shall not make an end of you
nor closing eyes lose your shape
when the retina's light fades;
what dawns inside me will light you.
In our public lives we may confine ourselves to darkness,
our nowhere mouths explain away our dreams,
but alone we are incorruptible creatures,
our light sunk too deep to be of any social use
we wander free and perfect without moving
or love on hard carpets
where couples revolving round the room
end found at its centre.
Our love like a whale from its deepest ocean rises -
I offer this and a multitude of images
from party rooms to oceans,
the single star and all its reflections;
being completed we include all
and nothing wishes to escape us.
Beneath my hand your hardening breast agrees
to sing of its own nature,
then from a place without names our origin comes shivering.
Feel nothing separate then,
we have translated each other into light
and into love go streaming.

 

[Guest]

A Sister's Regret

I've always been ashamed of home somehow,
The sibling fights that never seemed to end.
But it’s too late to beg her pardon now.

The sister I would taunt and call “a cow”!”
She tried to be my tutor and my friend.
I’ve always been ashamed of home somehow.

And so I left. I took a freedom vow.
If only I had changed that nomad trend.
But it’s too late. To beg her pardon now

Would no more shed the death mask from her brow
Than make those fences easier to mend.
I’ve always been ashamed of home somehow.

No student I, of Father God or Tao.
I specialized in acts that would offend.
But it’s too late to beg her pardon now.

Or thank her for the rancour she’d allow,
Those rocky times when I refused to bend.
I’ve always been ashamed of home somehow.
But it’s too late to beg her pardon now.

Jill Williams

 

[Angeline]

A Sister's Regret

I've always been ashamed of home somehow,
The sibling fights that never seemed to end.
But it’s too late to beg her pardon now.

The sister I would taunt and call “a cow”!”
She tried to be my tutor and my friend.
I’ve always been ashamed of home somehow.

And so I left. I took a freedom vow.
If only I had changed that nomad trend.
But it’s too late. To beg her pardon now

Would no more shed the death mask from her brow
Than make those fences easier to mend.
I’ve always been ashamed of home somehow.

No student I, of Father God or Tao.
I specialized in acts that would offend.
But it’s too late to beg her pardon now.

Or thank her for the rancour she’d allow,
Those rocky times when I refused to bend.
I’ve always been ashamed of home somehow.
Butt it’s too late to beg her pardon now.

Jill Williams [/b]

That's marvelous.

For your, dear Tess, cause I remember you loved it:

Naming the Stars
Joyce Sutphen

This present tragedy will eventually
turn into myth, and in the mist
of that later telling the bell tolling
now will be a symbol, or, at least,
a sign of something long since lost.

This will be another one of those
loose changes, the rearrangement of
hearts, just parts of old lives
patched together, gathered into
a dim constellation, small consolation.

Look, we will say, you can almost see
the outline there: her fingertips
touching his, the faint fusion
of two bodies breaking into light.

 

[Guest]

And I still do. Thanks, sis.