Heartlines

it will not stay as it was left,
the boogie-woogie of books –
jazzing up the room –
will fall like a ton of fiction

there will be no tambourines,
no clinking of love triangles,
the muse will not slip into bed
and sleep until lunchtime

it will not stay as it was left,
the haughty new housekeeper
will burn the toast,
throw marmalade at the ceiling,

she will arm herself with butter,
blast out a battle-cry,
call up her cavalry of cutlery,
storm the entrance hall,

while the bell keeps ringing,
ringing and ringing,
ringing and ringing,
she has changed the locks.

Linda Marshall
(from Cloud Cuckoo Café)

Back to the International Women’s Day 2023 collection

It was grey flannel, plain and droopy,
with drawstrings and a large untidy hood,
not some zany creation
sporting pistachio pockets and baroque buttons,
but an everywoman’s coat
that somehow caught the attention of young
up-to-no-gooders,
who screamed like high hell from passing cars
that set off police sirens,
and made old men utter profanities
under their breath,
even yesterday it attracted a stray bystander
in the art gallery’s tearoom,
who asked if he could take a photograph.
“It’s the coat, not you,” he added,
and as she looked at the digital image,
she wished people were interested in her,
and not this ordinary garment
with the invisible wow factor,
but then why wish yourself even more trouble?

Linda Marshall
(From Half-Moon Glasses)

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Out of the blue, she came with her silver wings,
slicing through the unspun drifts of cloud,
to rise higher than any bird was made to fly
defying men, defying women’s place, defying gravity
she flies, alone, across the wild Atlantic sea.

Out here above the earth she gazes down
at the insignificant checkerboard of the ground
and the tiny pieces moving, spinning round as
she rises higher than any bird was made to fly as
high and wild, she flies alone across the sky

Out of nothing came the plan to span the earth
They gave her a Lockheed Electra for the flight
and she very nearly almost might have been……
waves whisper unknown stories of her plight
They knew the date that mattered the 2nd of July 1937
the brightest of diamonds sometimes shatters
and the glinting shards reflect in shadows
courage, daring grace, a woman’s face.

Out of the blue she came with her silver wings.
the notes rise skywards. she flies on alone.
the music soars. she lives again. the drum beat roars.
she rises higher than any bird was made to fly
Amelia Earhart flies on in Blue Electra.

Amelia Earhart was an aviation pioneer who also wrote extensively including poetry. She
was the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic. She was lost over the Pacific trying to
circumnavigate the world…mystery surrounds her death. Recently a violin concerto, Blue
Electra has been written based on parts of her life.

Eileen Neil

Back to the International Women’s Day 2023 collection

I saw her again today,
out there,
scanning the horizon,
her wild song calling them in.
She was Kali, Ishtar, Isis and Athena,
She was Gaia, Venus, the snake goddess, Minerva
she knew why caged birds sang
and now she rises.*
they are coming
black, yellow, white, red, brown
the rainbow generations,
the ancestors
the living ones,
the ones to come,
walk together,
hand in hand
multitudes
gathered in answer
to her call
each one
astounding
birthing the future
from wombs of fire
their name is
woman

*both this and the preceding line refer to works by Maya Angelou who wrote the poem
“Phenomenal Woman”

Eileen Neil

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Woman Life Freedom is a Kurdish slogan, a rallying cry challenging violent patriarchal deadly authoritarian government . Used during the protests which erupted in Iran as a response to the death of Mahsa Amini in September 2023.My poem is about women fighting for freedom, for the right to vote, to have an abortion, contraception, to say no or yes to sex, their choice, to wear what they like, to cover or uncover their hair, their bodies, to march, and shout aloud, in UK, US, Iran ,Nigeria, Afghanistan etc etc etc, millions of phenomenal women.

Woman Life Freedom
Her body was not yours,
her mind her own.
Her right to place a mark
by the politicians’ name she chose
hard won by those wild women
long ago; long skirts stained from dragging
in the dirt of prison yards; throats
too sore to swallow from gagging
on long rubber hose; stomachs drowned
in liquid-force-fed-mush; they fought on;

Their bodies were not yours.
Lillian Lenten lighting fires,
Mary Richardson smashing windows,
Emmaline Pankhurst teetering
on the edge of death-by-hunger,
Emily Davison killed by royal hooves,
Sylvia, Adela, and Christabel,
willing to win by any means
with ‘nothing off the table’
so just the fight they fought, and won

Her body is not yours.
Her womb her own to guard
from seed sown carelessly
and new life she cannot bear
amongst the stony, US soil
of resentment and despair.
Her choice alone, her right to have sex
or say NO, resist and fight for life.

Their bodies were not yours.
women in their thousands in Iran
on Women’s Day in ‘79
reject the hijab, face the threat ‘death to the unveiled.’
Masih Alinejad, Fatemeh Sepehri,
proclaim once more in 2023
their hair, their clothes, their own to wear,
to cover or uncover as they choose,
while Mahsa Amini dies in captivity
in the hands of male
guardians of ‘morality.’

Our bodies are not yours.
Our words our own to shout aloud.
All around the world, our rights
are under threat, but we stand firm,
our history erupts like lava flows
to burn away the lies, the silence, and the chokeholds
on our freedom.

Drusilla Long

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