I've been contributing to the fab Daily Filth Poetry Blog set up by a fellow Lady Poet in honour of National Poetry Writing Month. With other fellow creative poets, I've written a poem a day, which is perfectly normal for a writer like me of course. Here's an extra special poem I've written in honour of Mary Wollstonecraft who's 250th TODAY!

Mary Wollstonecraft tried to kill herself after her useless lover Gilbert Imlay started boffing actresses - as usual, brilliant women are rejected by stupid men in favour of mindless actresses. My poem draws from her experiences in these, the depression, years.

My poem is written after In Honour of that High and Mighty Princess Queen Elizabeth by poor little Ann Bradstreet, America's First Lady Poet


OF HAPLESS MEMORY.
The Proeme.
By Poesie Rider (sic!)

Witness hap thou to fetid waters flyeee
Yet thy loud Herald splash bringeth yon oar tillers
Hence & ventilation prime relieve thy plight
& thy wondrous worth proclaim in every Clime,
If I, rude maid, had heard your Tweets
The sound thereof rapts every humane sence,
Mine ear would hear mine lippies thus proclaim
That Gilbert is a massive wanker, so that though
Might write something instead of being a total flid
Bodged suicides tire, yo sista, don't be sad
What hopes for woman is't to hope, to pray
When our fine mistress is so much distress't
At the false roving heart of a disloyal cox
As if't were cause to start when Jack cums out his box
Thou never didst nor wouldst or canst thou now disdain
A word of warning from a fellow maid
So thence, set store not my man's fleshly vows
But pass thy days in literary solitude
'Mongst hundred Hecatombs of roaring verse,
Thy companions be not cads but gals like I
& a lunch time ticket to the BFI
Glory lyes not in sugared lyres
Nor honeyed bowers which are the nub of Man
But in an unwrit treatise on a woman's right
And bookshopping with little Posie R!
Which makes me deem my rudeness is no wrong,
To slap thy face, yet honourest thy song.


This is also part of my 1600 Sonnet Cycle - sixteen thousand sonnets based on the 1600s. They'll be appearing on the blog soon as part of my Poesie Rider: Sonnet's of the Self Season - grab your diazepam and get ready to get cracking, it's going to take literally months to get through this stuff!