Padlocked

The weekend challenge at Real Toads is a combination of a photo challenge and a Flash 55.  I’m late, but I couldn’t resist joining in.

Lines Meeting (1932)
Pierre Dubreuil

lady liberty shackled and
held down against her will
pulled back to earlier times;
hairy-knuckled cavemen
dragging by her hair
padlocked to the past,
submissive and subservient
to the white man–political
man–in power of all;
locked in oppression’s cage,
left like a lioness pacing,
waiting for the moment
to pounce for the jugular

Friday Flash 55

It’s been quite a while since I’ve found some time to write anything besides lesson plans.  Since I’m on winter break, I had to join Hedgewitch for Friday Flash 55.  Sadly, I didn’t get around to the photo shoot I wanted to do to illustrate the poem.

The Man handles
my marionette strings
directing every movement.
Meeting his expectations
–quiet, demur–a delicate
perfect working girl with
alluring ballerina grace.

Um. no. Not this WOMAN!

A fucking bad ass
Amazon warrior queen,
ripping out the
strings of bondage
to perform my own
tribal jungle dance
stomping down the Man.

Let FREEDOM ring!

Mourning Moon

Snot drizzles and drips from my
nose, partly from the cold wind
scraping her fingers across my face.
Mostly the floodgates were opened
with Mourning Moon’s mandate–
let go the painful relationship before
winter’s solstice brings darkness.
Farewells are never easy, yet
this one leaves my heart shredded,
hanging to bleed dry after the kill.

I am sharing with Hedgewitch at her blog Verse Escape for Friday Flash 55.  I know I’m late, but it’s hard to get back into the habit of writing.  I’m trying.