by Sally Shaw
He paints me a fragile thing; a flower in my loosely held hair
I gently check no hair has lost its place or space
He paints my face to show my gaze and my emotions meek
Longing for my lover to arrive as I seek his carving of my name
He paints the ivy climbing over time; time of two lovers
I will wait and wait for my lover with no protesting
No, he paints me wrong; he paints a man’s view of a woman’s place in society
This is not my first time of waiting, no sight of cupid’s arrow
I feel like Atalanta; I have strength alone; a man has to be worthy
It is not my place to be a midst the shady damp woods where goblins and
Pixies roam. I have no fear of the darkening wood or the creeping ivy
If I take a lover a task of worth, he will first succeed to my satisfaction
Thank you for sharing this poem, inspired by the activities in Session 2, with us Sally! There are some really beautiful lines in there - 'I feel like Atalanta; I have strength alone; a man has to be worthy' is particularly striking. Your use of internal rhyme, particularly in the first stanza, is really deft: 'place/space/face', and 'meek/seek'.
If anyone else would like to share their work, do email them to me at nellie.cole@sky.com.
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