SHE IS A SUFFRAGETTE
her hair tumbles
blowing like unfurled cotton
through unforgotten
fumbles
in vegetation
of our own
interpretation
of each other
in the dark.
my desk grown
out of a tree sown
from my lover
where i carved these words in the bark
sitting in her branches
knowing what life is
all about
as i look out
of wooded windows
and absorb it's shows
as it goes
through each obscenity
of extreme supremacy-
a woman must not let
a man forget
she is a suffragette
in her soul and under his blanket
so never kept
or chatteled forever
to the custom weather
of his debt.
Copyright Strider Marcus Jones. 22 June, 2012. All Rights Reserved.
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40 Poems From POMEGRANATE FLESH by Strider Marcus Jones
PoetryThis collection of poetry features 40 of the 75 poems from my latest book Pomegranate Flesh. You are most welcome to vote and comment and follow me. The poems in this collection show Strider's gift of being able to weave words into creative and surp...
