I know, I know, I just can’t help myself… That’s because the poems are bubbling along anyway, while a review or ordinary blog post takes up more thought and time. Later on today, I plan to share my thoughts on writers’ groups (having just been to my first couple of meetings).
Warning: strong political content.
It’s not about the flowers I’ve come to talk today,
nor about equality, sharing of the tasks.
I don’t want your Pity. Approval. Admiration.
Nor need stale drinks distilled in new(ish) flasks.
Don’t grant me special favours, don’t pat me on the head.
I seek not the pedestal, nor the public eye.
All I want is my voice to stand out and be counted,
the freedom of creation, invention of the ‘I’.
I need the air to breathe, I need the space to roam,
instead of guilt and failure, sequestered in my room,
self-absorption be an art form, a sign of ample brains,
mistakes not count against me, nor children spell my doom.

It’s not about the medals I’ve come to talk today,
nor about equality, sharing of the spoils.
I don’t seek your Pity. Cheering. Admiration.
Nor need applauses for each of my toils.
Don’t grant me special favours, don’t pat me on the head.
I need not the pedestal, nor the public roar.
All I want is for my achievement to be record,
A chance to show dignity, even out the score.
I need the air to breathe, I need the space to roam,
Not jammed in guilty closet, not made to feel diseased.
I want to love a human, regardless of the gender,
And leave behind a planet much gentler then we leased.