A painted portrait of tender maid wrapped in lace and golden chain A single rose in her hand her wit and eye the reprimand The letter B Emblazoned bare the second wife Young and fair Her mystery and brave of face The Queen of Hearts Relented chaste Her womb did bare so many sorrows Her life discarded New wife tomorrow New faith was founded to cover shame A line of grace Flows from her name Portrait picture
Staring at the new day sun
veiled fog above the rise
Translucent hiding perfect sphere
Shuffling mist smears the sky
Exotics and their native mates
Sit alongside still and wide
Spreading out their sparse leaves
A kaleidoscope of fire
Wet and deep the colours blush
the damp lit canvas glows
Woollen warm-blooded bodies
Rise and graze their nose
There are some who hold the notion
that they owe their very lives
to another one’s devotion
their compassion helps them thrive
So an endless lifelong debt
is paid out every day
in prayers and thoughts and dreams
and acts of kindness to repay
Plain and simple
Anyone can see
For women like me
We whistle while Rome burns
a woman who carries on
the backbone of history
People like Mama
to resist occupation
understand the language
of your enemy
– The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver, p.435
‘The Exodus’ by Orleanna Price
Johari tells me not to worry Out the bottom window view Must be Pavlov who knew why When sad I like my food Freud agrees he can call His sister's name instead Maslow says I'm all sold out If merely housed and fed Thorndike's clear your looking good Is why you're a kind soul Should have listened to Myers and Briggs Why you hog the remote control. Horn rimmed glasses image
While you were sleeping the sun arose
The children cried and the TV’s glowed, illuminate
While you were dreaming the fire glowed
Dew drop windows sheltered us from the winter’s first frost
Apples falling to the sodden ground
Life lies dormant beneath our feet, waiting to rebound
One can barely control
Thought
Life
Let alone
Dreams
Twice more we
Dream
Talk
Feel
Cry
Hug
than men.
His design
Smothered the earth
With her love
If the world ran wild
Along maternal lines
Would there be twice less
War
Loneliness
Homeless
Hunger
Orphans?
There is passion in the making
Of love and war
There is pride in the taking
Of power and appearances
(What purpose is the peacock?)
Our nurture
Eternally felt
Hurt
Blame
Shame
Disdain
Our nature
Tragically felt
Just as strong
As love
Created and redeemed
Overthrown and unseen
Hidden self…
God knows
Yet loves
So, do I?
For Kate..
A long flowing snake
Of people sauntering
Through the streets
Crowds caterpaulting
Upon signs of
Sweatshop treats
Colours and shapes
Draped upon a
Myriad of skin
Matching one another
Like a false array of kin
Heros take their stand
While the audience applauds
Criminals remanded
Even angels take a fall
Think the worst if you will
It’s your bitter pill
But think of all the
Panic when the crowd
Have their fill
I picked them all at random
Not noticing the package
I did not want the wrapping
To prevent me from partaking
The first one burst into my mouth
A liquid sweet liquor
The remnants of the cherry
Relished for a moment more
Next was slightly square and hard
But sweet all the same
The longest chew did skew my jaw
Relieved the end it came
Several more of various shapes
Tasted much the same
A smooth blend of flavour unknown
Coloured in different ways
Then the most shocking ones
A sour batch of bites
Some so nasty I spat them out
Hastily cleaned my mouth
For a box labelled favourites
I found so very few
The hard ones tiresome and long
The good ones gone too soon
One cannot be a foothold
To carry life and limb
One can barely be a handhold
Secure for you to cling
One cannot be an anchor
In a fall to take the slack
One cannot be a lifeline
When there seems no turning back
Instead a close companion
Can cheer us on in love
But surely as the day is long
Shall share the view above
Count the stars of heaven 
