Saturday, August 25, 2012


As much as I want to rail and wail and scream and stomp my blog feet about the women-hating horse crap that headlined the news this week - and has been trending all year - this is not the appropriate forum.

The correct forum would have been The Old Blog, with Country Girl. The nonstop rant-fest I miss every. damn. day. 

But here I want to focus on writing and poetry, and share these lovely things with you.

Poetry is often considered a more acceptable - and let's face it, attractive - way of communicating things we shouldn't discuss in polite company. It also comes in handy when we can't manage to find words of our own to express ourselves.

It's the vehicle of choice for angst-ridden teens who scribble away in spiral-bound notebooks they hide under their beds.

It's the device that helped a domestic violence and rape survivor stand behind a microphone and share her secrets and struggles: "This is my therapy." 

It's how young people express feelings they don't completely understand.
Jack and Jill sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. 

And it is absolutely how many adults express feelings they don't completely understand. I would love to know how many relationships began with someone scrawling Roses are Red/Violets are Blue...  on a Post-It note.

So at the close of this Week of Disgust and Anger, I will express myself using a poem instead of the much clumsier semi-articulate rant.

‘Vagina’ Sonnet - Joan Larkin
Is “vagina” suitable for use
in a sonnet? I don’t suppose so.
A famous poet told me, “Vagina’s ugly.”
Meaning, of course, the sound of it. In poems.
Meanwhile, he inserts his penis frequently
into his verse, calling it, seriously, “My
Penis.” It is short, I know, and dignified.
I mean of course the sound of it. In poems.
This whole thing is unfortunate, but petty,
like my hangup concerning English Dept. memos
headed “Mr./Mrs./Miss”–only a fishbone
in the throat of the revolution–
a waste of brains–to be concerned about
this minor issue of my cunt’s good name.

I probably lost a few of you with that last line but, damn, it was worth it.

Reprinted without permission, and begging forgiveness.


  1. I have a hard time utilizing the word in the last line, but in certain situations and with certain people, it it MORE than appropriate!

    I used to write bad poetry. I know it was bad because I've read it since then. It was very dark and twisty, as I'm wont to be from time to time, and it is rarely a good thing to write from perspective as self centered, overweening, and narcissistic as that.

    That being said, I can think of few things more deserving of poetry OR prose than the vagina.

  2. I've performed some poems live. Well, I say 'performed'. I read them out to a paying audience. Great fun abounded.

    At no point were vaginas involved, admittedly.