She thought, this is my lucky day, when the baas
didn’t beat her when she spilled the coffee, when
he didn’t squeeze her young breasts and take her
like a sweating bull when the missie went shopping;

when she wasn’t locked in the shed with no windows
for having forgotten to polish the horns of the kudu,
whose sad head hung over the mantlepiece gazing
at the twin tusks and assegais on the facing wall;

when they said she could go home for a night, even
to leave in the gold and pinks of the sunset, to walk
the dusty road through the wattle plantations, farms
where birds fluttered and dipped over the green corn.

The judge asked if she had anything to say. She said:
'I saw the black widow-birds dancing in the mealie fields.'

Extraordinary light in this. Pathos and the stories of Dineson glimmering in its weave. This will be moved to the editor's board, but later--so as not to be missed...

larry

I'm at a loss as to how to comment, awed by the depth of injustice and the lift of beauty alive in this poem.  Lynn

Ditto the above.  Beatiful work.  Thank you.

I can feel the depth of each word.... i am amazed. i'm glad i found this website, though my inferiority complex forbids me from saying more!

It is a wonderful gift to show not tell.....very effective example of it here.....

nicely written -- xo,  Michelle

Very nice piece. The only thing that puzzles me is the hyphen used between widow and birds. Why? Is it a hyphen or is it a dash? The answer could change the meaning of the last line.

I feel quite calm in her shoes, or bare feet more likely. She almost strikes me as knowing and accepting the inevitable, as in Mary's Pieta. Beautiful

ah, milner!  you knocked me off the front page after a run of only a few days!  congratulations...yours is an excellent poem and certainly deserves to be front and center.
best...
        always...
                   john

The widow-birds are hyphened, Jay. They are also called whidah-birds, but I've stuck to the version with which I am familiar.

This somehow mysterious “she” is a presence indeed, and the tone is very appropriate to what happens in the text and effective in terms of lyricism. I like this piece.
Vasile

Milner,  One quick thought before I'm off camping.....

She thought this is my lucky day, when the baas
didn’t beat her when she spilled the coffee, when

(in the last line of the poem....what she says is italizied......would it add anything to the piece I wonder to do it to what she thought...."this is my lucky day" in the first line???

Just to think about....

She thought this is my lucky day, when the baas
didn't beat her when she spilled the coffee, when

etc....

xo Michelle

Good thinking, Michelle. Happy camping.

milner

Invokes To Kill a Mockingbird in me; the injustice, the pride, the life that most of us are fortunate to never know.

What a beautiful, beautiful poem.

Pamme

This poem really touched me it is beautiful.
 Thank you Margaret Alice Threlfall.

It ends pretty....haha you haven't quite gotten me convinced!! There is still solace, that isn't a bad thing but I still want my coffee mug!

I guess I'm just an old ripe apple, Betty, full sugared by the sun, nearing the time of fall. Content with that, as needs must be. Better that than a withered bitter fruit.

Cheers

milner

I like apples :)

 :) Milner is leaving the garden.

I've always had a slight issue with this title(sounds a bit like a shite video game) but my goodness, What a Poem!

Pure poetry.

B.

Just once in a while we get one right, Brian, which goes some way towards compensating for all the dross we produce. Thanks

milner

I just want to write one poem of this magnitude
before I die. (anybody know when that is?)
I guess after I write just one, I'll want to write two,
but just two...

you know what I mean,
it's beyond words, into art.

For such a generous assessment, Scott, my special thanks. This, at least in my eyes, is the best I've written, so I'm especially pleased you've selected it for such a comment.

Cheers

milner

Hi milner.  Just had to tell you I saw this poem in 'outlaw poetry' and had to look for it here.  This really is an awesome poem.  The beauty of this poem is sad but so revealing.  In the last line, her escape from a cruel life echoes and gives hope, yet brings a tear at the same time.

What a surprise and what a pleasure it was to find and read your poetry in 'outlaw'.  Seems like you've been quiet lately.  Hope all is well with you.  Wait...I think I'm the one quiet.  lol   Well whatevah.

Talk to you soon,
cheryl

Thanks, Cherylanne, for your comments on this. I've already said that is one poem of which I'm proud.

I've been unwell for a while and unable to join the site, but am on the way back now, though still woozy in the head (even more than normal). Hope to be back in business next week.

Cheers

milner