At Dawn Came Love (Part VI)

To keep house with servants and never see money  is her manufactured dream. Deference to her betters, elders and males, will also be her lot. Smoke stacks polluting blue skylines scream for equality with tatting, knitting needles, and embroidery hoops that are most familiar to her fingers. She will be encharged with keeping the dust off his furniture. Her days

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Wild Woman

Unmanned, like a bull bereft of all; a flaccid decoration without use; at least if thee had what I have thou could be a woman; eunuch hiding your treasure for marriage and hypocrisy. And leave me with empty decoration; rings without sense, dresses without purpose. Go about your business thou say I want nothing to do with thee now; yet

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A Bitter Wind

A poem about Culloden Battlefield today and the effects of the subsequent highland clearances.       And so, t’is a bitter wind that blowsaround Drumossie.A plaintive crow that lends a single voicepiercing guilty silence.The moss itself, whispers among the slanted stones,footsteps sinking into sacrifice. Distant, calm blue firth betrays the battle-yellsawake forever on the breeze.Over heathered moors, ruined cottages

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