Poems

ROOTS OF FEMINISM

BRANCHES OF CYNICISM

There was this tree across the road from us,
a massive trunked, mysterious, ancient beech
that had survived the post-war building boom,
its branches vast and dark and out of reach.

The local boys had said it couldn’t be climbed,
without the help of ladders, shoulders, ropes;
so they chose to play in other, easier trees –
but I longed to be in their gang – childish hopes!

A tomboy ten, pig-headed and pig-tailed,
I’d climbed, un-noticed, to the highest bough
and called, triumphant, to the lads below
to come and join me, I could show them how.

The boys took over, took the upper hand,
declared it theirs, with one rule: girls were banned!