Have you read the note?
It speaks of the doom of the liquid element.
An inclement weather, grey, and with the fuss of a bleached lightning,
Besieges the tick of the clock.
Must have been a bland Sunday, which retreated
From the temerity of old wine,
Haunted by the lonesome refrains of exhausted hymns.
The belfry yawned loosely....
But quiet crept in like leprosy,
Hanging loops on loam-matted hair, black and fringy,
And nursing frets we held
When the wetted guitar strings would not strum....
Have you read her note?
Not the one of Mrs. Dalloway
Nor the one of Between the Acts,
But the one she cringed for —
That banal, invidious act, non-virginal,
Which haunts the church to this day.
Categories:
woolf, eulogy,
Form: Ode
In Virginia's mind, a tempest swirled,
A brilliant mind, yet shadows curled.
Words flowed like a river deep and wide,
Yet within her soul a tumultuous tide.
She danced with joy, a fleeting waltz,
Yet battled demons, unseen assaults.
To the lighthouse of her soul, she'd strive,
But darkness whispered, she couldn't survive.
A room of her own, a refuge sought,
Yet the waves of despair relentlessly fought.
In depths profound, she sought reprieve,
A final rest, a chance to leave.
In the pages she wrote, her essence lives,
A testament to the pain she gives.
A fragile soul, now at peace,
Virginia's tale, a tragic masterpiece.
Categories:
woolf, 12th grade,
Form: Rhyme
as i began to understand Virginia Woolf
her voice from a room of her own
i realized i was upon a mountain
she had exposed the molehill it was
the dirt soon revealed a tunnel
entering it opened a new horizon
where i finally fully grasped the world
surrounding Jane Austen
in that moment the mist upon the horizon
disappeared and i could finally grasp
her words between the lines
denied a seat upon the Parthenon
forbidden attending The School of Athens
she displays the truth about her gender
that soft restraint we find in mother
its wisdom resplendent
in that hardened fist of reality
covered in a glove of soft lamb
we forgive ignorance
or become yet another in the mirror
who denies the freedom the world
breathes in every breath
the child's first cry
should echo, i am born free
deserving a room of my own
all warrant the miracle life is
nascent in the gratitude within
OKC 6/22
Categories:
woolf, august, celebration, encouraging, freedom,
Form: Free verse
I’m lost, the snow’s so deep, red scarf left as a mark, but gone,
I need to nap, a busy night, Santa and Rudolph will miss me
Sleep, I must sleep, so tie my shoe around a tree with thorn,
Must prepare for dread, for what lies ahead, a villager passing heard
My sleepy voice, and from beneath a steep pile of snow peeped out
A blue sleeved arm and shoe-less foot, so he awakened me,
I would freeze in this bitter breeze, a hot glass of milk is
What you need, the stranger said, so tearfully I did explain,
I feared a wolf with fang, poor tired Santa forgot to head count,
Please help, all I know is address North Pole, so elf and stranger
Walked hand in hand, leaving footprints in the snow like sand,
Was this stranger assigned, of course we know he was, with speedy swirl,
Found themselves in Santa’s house, beside his spouse, address North Pole.
A miracle Santa declared and looked around, but no-one was there!
Competition Entry: Footprints
Dated: 02/05/2021
Sponsor: Carolyn Devonshire
Categories:
woolf, christmas,
Form: Free verse
Watch the rodents and regulars
Sifting through the spiritless so-so
Of their sake.
Rushing for a room
In the established B&B,
Avocados and aperitifs
Swelling their bellies and slowing their minds.
Always wary of all their wares,
Reapers of replication.
The competition of the committee
For no tribute, nor travesty, just toll.
Watch the stickmen and society
Parade through the pith paths
Of their poetry.
Dawdling for the day
In the extraordinary ordinary,
Tates and Tatt
Warming their bellies and fizzing their minds.
No wares or too many to care,
Makers of mavericks,
Challengers of the committee,
For just tribute, or travesty, no toll.
© 2016 Margo Cami [www.margocami.com]
Categories:
woolf, art, imagination,
Form: Free verse
The most imperfectly
Compatible almost-couple…
Framed in unwanted proximity
Coated in fool’s gold
In worst case, we’ll hold onto each other forever
You’re always just a drink away
Along with every Honey that ever came by
You’ll end up on the bathroom floor
Crush the ice between your teeth
And smile as it melts in your mouth
Don’t provoke me
I’ll get you back, just you wait
Let’s invent a new game
‘Cause this is as good as it gets
Baby, this is our fun
Someday you’ll sober up
But for now:
We’re Martha and George
And I just killed our son.
Categories:
woolf, love
Form: I do not know?