The Poetics prompt at dversepoets this week is to write about our name. From the Greek "Aikaterinë", to the French "Catherine", to the Gaelic "Caitlin", one can see how it was Anglicized again to Kathleen by the IrishEngish. Yeats penned a legend - a young Countess Cathleen offered her soul during a famine, in exchange for food for the starving, proving her courage.
KATHLEEN
Borne of the Middle Ages -
Kathleen is an Irish lass,
idealistic, intuitive,
unpretentious,
and a bit feisty,
stubborn, alas,
quick-tempered...
Melancholy brown hair
bears tints of auburn
in the sun..
...common freckles sprout
within fair rosey cheeks
where tears frequently run.
Sometimes clairvoyant,
she converses with
leprechauns.
Her name translates to
unsullied purity and
innocence...and yet,
she can be pushed only so far.
She walks stone paths -
across green hills and valleys
by day...
through soft rainbows and
disappearing pots of gold
She waits for arms to hold her
by the fire at night.
Her world is an Irish stew -
complicated...for
she can be happy...
and sad at the same time...if
only she could recognize
... either she is successful
or, quite miserable.
A pioneer of sorts, she
learned early a smooth sea
never makes a skillful sailer...
Her heart is as slippery
as a bar of soap,
her armour made of
sacrificial linen and lace.
With an inner desire to inspire
others in a higher cause,
she likes to share views on
spiritual matters.
Opera music
is carried out her frosted,
snowflaked window...and
from her garden magic light
from daffodils shines
back onto her welcoming
hearth...where she dreams of
white cliffs and castles
by the sea.
