The Woman

she leans out, looks up,
poses for the cameras where

lights nose and flash. the sky is torn
like her pretty silk dress now
stained in red, this morning was white;
children spilling their dainty selves
in bleeding, in pleading, as if he might—

she hears Him thundering in a heaven,
and whispering in a bedroom.

Ma dear, sit here, sweep back your fair hair:
she will despair. And that is a promise.

a flash in the sky, a wink for the camera
and the thunder—
the children dwindle all but in number.
Myra withdraws from the ledge;
over time
all her dresses grow stained—
and yet, invisible.

when the Plodders come plodding,
the white witch is washed.
reporters in columns stand silent
and stare, stirring mourners
and yet they flash on:

she leans forward, looks on
and poses. she is opaque.

Blinky! At last you have something new. I would've got to this sooner, but you know, Freud was holding me hostage.

So, I read this poem a few times, and I think I like it! One good thing (not saying it's the only one) about it is that it's not boring, it goes forward and isn't redundant. I also rather like the story.

The second to last stanza was my least favourite. For me, it was the most difficult one to grasp and fully understand, or to connect with the rest of the poem.

Random stuff:

like her pretty silk dress now
stained in red, this morning was white;

My first thought was that the "white" referred to the dress, and the wording seemed odd to me – you know, not being "it was white". Then I realised that the "white" might have meant the morning instead of the dress, which would make more sense, and after all this, I thought the whole thing was pretty clever! I would still like you to verify it, because if it's going to be clever, it should be sincerely so, and not just because of some Freudian slip -- alright, I can't seem to escape this. But do you know what I mean? If not, please tell me and I will try to explain myself better.

she hears Him thundering in a heaven

Meh, I don't know about the capitalisation of "him" -- never mind if it should be capitalised in this case, but I think it sounds/looks like a bit forced. Unless you're again being clever. I hope that is not case.

The "dialogue" bit adds a nice touch, but I'm not too sure about the "Ma dear". I think that if you had "my", it wouldn't quite be the same, but ma is just weird. If I were you, I would probably replace it with "M'dear". I don't know. It's tricky. Meanings are so vulnerable -- change one letter or punctuation mark, and it suddenly means something completely other.

Myra withdraws from the ledge

Myra? Is that her name? I don't really think it fits in the poem. I would just delete it and put "she" instead. Though, on second thoughts, it sort of adds the feeling of subjectivity. However, I will stand by my original opinion.

all her dresses grow stained

You already used the word stained, so I think you should find another way to say this.

stirring mourners

"Stirring" should be merry. (Okay, that was probably the lamest one so far. Just ignore me.)


It's fairly interesting how you only capitalised the proper nouns. I don't quite know what to think about it, though.


I quite liked this poem. Say what you say, but there's something fascinating about your poetry. You should post more. I hope I could help, though I'm not sure what I was talking about.


-The cool Finnish person

Thanks, Dems! =]

I actually used Myra's name because it's based on some child serial killings that happened in the 1960s in Manchester - a man was involved as well, but she was the most notorious murderer. On the surface, she was really sane, but in court she was emotionally void. But obviously you'd need to know the context, and if that's not coming across I might just get rid of the name.

Thanks for the advice - it was really helpful!