Sometimes the full moon keeps me awake until nearly daybreak. Or perhaps it is anger fuelled by the remorselessness of the news cycle.  Or heartbreak for those who share my sex. I wish I had a magic wand or a really powerful hex. But I only have a pen. Today’s poetry practice alludes to the medieval period. And yesterday’s news cycle. Go Google if you need. But inspiration for a poem can come from anywhere or anything.


If you are reared in an atmosphere
where you have this
secret power
of which no one speaks,
instead, attempts to keep
it stayed – held at bay – put away –
until some future time for
initiation on a particular day

A boy may be virgin,
he will still play at wielding
his sceptre and orb.
They are so in his face.
Until they are in hers
with neither wish nor want to pay him fealty

was a woman’s invention,
a charm of protection
against the worst of being
a chattel and a pawn.
Even a queen, especially Eleanor,
understood this-

That boys are the fathers of the man.
That daughters are always dispensable
in the harsher and more grandiose
scheme of all things.

From this fact
women weave their own court
of love and justice.
Still their tapestry is undone,
not finished. Or favoured.

Copyright 2018 Bee Smith

3 thoughts on “Aquitaine

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