Days she’s a translucent idea
Displaying the required galleria Stuck in this confined woman form Laced tight in society’s norms As the fire turns to embers The quiet girl no one remembers Cosy up in the inglenook To write forbidden poems in her book ©RedCat
Written for tonight’s dVerse prompt
Quadrille #118: In the Inglenook. A lovely word, I seldom get to use. And a thing I always wish my house would have.
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RedCat is a lifelong bookworm, that thinks reading, writing poetry and prose, music and dance, makes life worth living.
Her writing spans any topic that currently inspires her, be that love, life, environment, mythology or anything else that pops into her head.
Originally from the deep woods, this fiery redhead now makes home in Stockholm, Sweden, where you might run into her dancing the night away in one of the city's techno-clubs.
View all posts by RedCat
Monday 14 December, 2020
Advent, Advent calendar, Day 14, Dream, dVerse, Fantasy, Female Empowerment, Inglenook, Poem, Poetry, Writing
My favorite line is ‘laced tight in society’s norms’. And I also love ‘forbidden poems’- wonderful!
So enjoyed this! Love your portrayal of ‘the quiet girl’.
Love this especially; “Laced tight in society’s norms as the fire turns to embers.” You have created an unforgettable character! 💝
Fine work! Our house has two (2 !!) inglenooks. Mine’s called Sandra. She calls hers Ron… Go figure. Neither one of them is very quiet, though.
I so love the image you chose to accompany your fine poem …. can you imagine wearing one of these?
I could feel the repression in this and then those forbidden poems come out in the end – a fun read! 🍷
I bet she is glad at the end of the day when she can relax unlaced from society. I can’t imagine wearing one of those.
What a great antidote to society’s norms: writing forbidden poetry by the inglenook!
I love the way you hark back to bygone days in this poem. That would have been me, corset loosened, cosy in the inglenook, writing forbidden poems. 😊
A very feminine take! This is lovely.
Something similar came with my mother’s wedding dress, which I also wore…could barely breathe!
Perfect… to be free alone in her nook. Poetry is a liberator.
Oh! I really love this. I imagine there have been so many of those girls throughout history.