In Nomine Patre
who art encountered
in the skies on
clouds with harps
and cherub faced saints
and the few women
who art thought fit
to be entered there..
Et Filis
whom I hold personally
to blame,
for every slight
and night I suffer
in this female form:
each sickly youth
who ever wrote of
this feminine
in terms of sweet and soft -
each woodwork class
that was only meant for
boys
Et Spiritus Sanctus..
Sonctimonius
Git, tongues of flame
crying shame on my mini
skirts and weekends away
and highheeled shoes and jobs
on building sites; on fights
and girls who
whistle in the corridors
of power
Amen!
In peace repose, rest and decay
Say no more, enough
was done in your name.
Abide in the past. RIP.
Geraldine Moorkens Byrne
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/reqium/
