Confessional poets
Are thought of in the feminine perjorative
Ironically men 
Confess their camoflage
When calling their characters Hank
That’s for you … Mr blowhard Bukowski
Or Billy Childish, nuff said, I suspect
Whilst this Plath enigma, I doubt shall ever be cracked
Anymore than the grey stones weighting sweater
Sexton either, what beautiful ankles and rouged lips
Even as she slipped, beneath the veil of sanity
Like a greyhound needing to outrun, even itself
Madness grows peacock feathers for weeds
Just another error in a misguided map
Thinking women lesser, colinders of experience
If I’d been a man I’d have 
Grown my hair like a mane
Been kind to my daughters
And changed the notion of authority
For my words would be exclaimed intensely feminine
Applauded for
A man having been 
A better woman
Like Bono and his award 
We give ourselves away
By the bouquet full
Whatever happened
To women inheriting the wind?

0 Replies to “Inheriting the wind”

  1. “Like a greyhound needing to outrun, even itself
    Madness grows peacock feathers for weeds”
    I am screaming this is so good and so beautiful. You need to have this one published.

  2. Ending the poem with the title = superb along with these lines:
    “Whilst this Plath enigma, I doubt shall ever be cracked
    Anymore than the grey stones weighting sweater
    Sexton either, what beautiful ankles and rouged lips
    Even as she slipped, beneath the veil of sanity
    Like a greyhound needing to outrun, even itself”
    This speaks volumes.

  3. I often ask β€œwhen did God become a man?”… Some might call it a conspiracy against Sophia. Dualism does not mean separation, it means joining forces, loving both halves, becoming wholly divine in the process …

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