On International Women’s Day

I tried to write a poem
For the women I have known
But the words kept on repeating
Like a litany of moans

Every small injustice suffered
Was enshrined in natty rhyme
But the sentiments uncovered
Were not altogether mine

With each line I scribbled while the bus
Kept up its steady crawl
Hoping soon I’d feel inspired – at home
Decipher bitter scrawl

The syllables collectively
All spoke in tones, irate –
During furious descent into
A semi-lettered state

On no account may these be seen
By those who read my page
Or all would label them obscene
A poorly crafted rage

Instead I will try gently
To uncover what I’d say
If I’d had a more productive pen
Upon this woman’s day

Wordcount

A challenge of words
Daily mileage to clock
When accustomed to torrents
May come as a shock

It appears that such distance
Brings a limit to speed
And more haste, fewer sentences
Grammar and greed

So I packed up the monitor,
The keyboard and mouse
And I, tentative, ventured
Outside of the house

As I strolled to the shops
In a shower of drizzle
My memory pops
At epiphany’s sizzle

A notepad, a new one
With freshly ruled page
And a packet of biros
Will surely assuage

My brain’s seeming outrage
At such a production –
Line focus to fiction
Instinctive and touching