I woke up this morning
To stale butter spots on a forgotten frying pan
From last night's leftover dinner
Casting dark shadows on the old fashion cast iron stove
Accentuate a bad taste in my mouth
And a throbbing headache inside my head
Dear diary fresh as the morning glory
Where and how to find the bright spot?
Through the cracks of shattered thoughts
Your purity beckons my yearning for cleanliness
A white page as virgin as a wedding dress gown
Unwrapped to be displayed in the bridal shop
Not tried, or touched by soiled hands
Where life transforms a maiden to motherhood
Swept by sainthood of love and duty to fulfill destiny
While Men desire offices with silver perks
What happened to Joan of Arc? To all the women!
Giver of life, freedom, burnt to the stake of envy
Women’s state that earthy love
Transcends the soul to the heart of Mary
Beyond all labels, all religions, all arguments
A role model to uphold when the pen of men
To wars and destruction purposely lead
I lament the war room in the White house
If only one women's essence found among the brass
100,000 lives and counting would have been spared
Mother's tears weep for the permanent wounded
Even if she’s kept hidden from the stage
Her voice in poetry transforms stubborn heads
The hermit from Amherst, Massachusetts
The Dickinsonian doctrine: clarity and brevity
Less is more -No misinterpretation -
The voice of reason from her den
Amelia Earhart flight to freedom
Open skies where inspiration lies
Florence Nightingale the white robes
Healing in poetry, the prayer’s shrine
April 16,2013
Copyright Leaking Pen 2013
Leaking Pen
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/joan-of-arc-7/
