A Feminist Literary Collective (& outlaw poets swearing)
I knew my heart when boys were boys and making her cry meant you liked her I knew my heart when concrete met flesh misjudged that bump and bicycles learned to fly are tears really necessary? … walk it off I knew my heart when “one of the guys” was pushing rumors down grapevinesContinue reading I Knew My Heart…Eric Syrdal
This is something I need to write while the fire of anger is in my heart In these later years of my life I have learned to let go of anger more quickly so what is left of my heart doesn’t become blackened and bitter But I must say this You disgust me You haveContinue reading Brute – Eric Syrdal
Near the hollow Where the babbling brook plays Where willows bow their shaggy helms juniper kneels to holly And oaks remove their crowns There lived a maid The daughter of a giant Though she inherited no great height nor the strength to crush a mountain Her birthright was of the heart and of twoContinue reading Lithograph…- Eric Syrdal
Her eyes are painted with porcelain bravery bravado and battlefield-hardened she wields her weapons sarcastic razor-edged wit impenetrable oaken confidence guarding her breast all the ambition forged within iron and steel dark amber flame, her hair across her shoulders a regal mane unstirred by the winds of war like so many before her behindContinue reading Shieldmaiden…
I have seen her The Aegean sea in her hair Her warm skin kissed in the Mediterranean sun Her supple hands that spun the crimson thread that bore a hero through to kill the beast of the labyrinth but what hero is this? that leaves such a vessel of valor and courage wrapped in womanlyContinue reading Introducing Eric Syrdal: Ariadne…
This battle rages night after day each time She has returned To this place beneath Japanese Magnolia and Crepe Myrtle a place where a defensive line can be formed the Engetsu the Crescent Moon a place of respite against his gentle advance on her territory against the quiet questions of the world to determine aContinue reading Last Stand. . .-Eric Syrdal
Shall I tell you what she does for me? Shall I show you the blisters on her hands? Where She has held my heart, Aflame with passion’s rage Shall you see? how Her tender cheek, Bears the tracks of ink tears Which She sheds for what I can not produce On this page Even thoughContinue reading Courage…-Eric Syrdal
