"Birth Right" (Entry 401)

Repression of succession

Right from one's birth. 

Question the selection

Of your place on this earth. 

Progress in your profession 

For true talents in dearth. 

Impress on unique expression 

You are more than their worth.

"The Summons" (Entry 375)

Metal-tipped stiletto heels echo on marble floor. 

Reverberate in smoke-like tendrils to somber dome above. 

Nervous unrhythmic tapping,

As an ancient typewriter hitting and leaving its mark. 

Repetition rebound around the rotunda atrium melding into next. 

It wasn't fair!

She had been summoned. 

There was no refusal. 

She arrived on time,

But had been kept waiting. 

Sweat her out!

Why was she made to feel guilty?

She jolted as sight met with uniformed guard, 

And held. 

Steely blue ex-service beneath peaked cap to 

Brown and teary, fighting fear, to point of sending mascara flowing in inky ribbons over alabaster cheeks,

As pale as any statue that graced this hallowed hall. 

He sat as judge, jury and executioner 

Behind raised and ruling oak desk. 

Her gaze fazed first. 

Desperate to find new eye line. 

Hard, dark, wood bench. 

New project.

She sat tentatively on the same spot as 

Rumps by the multiple had polished before. 

A grey suited identikit drone loomed and slithered from behind a heavy ornate door.

Her fingers gripped and well-worn edge as she screamed inside. 

Why her? 

What was she doing here?

It wasn't her fault? Wasn't her desire?

Who truly wants to work here?

Not her!

Why go through all this when she didn't want the job!

She rose to go. 

But the drone approached. 

He lifted his chin a little higher to peer down her nose to her. 

Nostrils quivering as he sniffed,

"Miss Cavendish. Your father will see you now."

"What now? WOW!" (Entry 339)

A side effect of Situation WOW!

No time for discussion or tempered row. 

Thought processes firing. Do it and pow!

Action - reaction - controlling the now. 

"Whisper" (Entry 190)

They're talking in whispers.
Behind closed doors.
Dealing out justice,
gossip and chores.
Blighted with phlegm,
delirious of power.
Middle management meetings
onwards to grasp the Ivory Tower.

************

That's the first third (and a bit) completed.

Only a year to go!

Thanks for returning and reading my verse.

Please tell your friends, family and foe.

"Sparkle in the Void" (Entry 79)

Hacked from rock,
Deep beneath in Hades caverns,
Worked where volcanos cook at the core.
The ice that knows no melting point
Except
For those that drill it it for
The circulatory of blood money.
Black ice,
Diamonds rare,
At the pressured end.

Mined the other mines,
Still full of danger,
To discover stuff to burn.
Another form of black ice - Coal.
Dug by suffering hands
By those with cash to cook.