Poet quotes the example of Mary Webster who was accused of witchcraft because she tried to raise her voice.
Her mouth was covered by leather in order strangle her words. Though she was saved, men of the age tortured her whole life.
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The poet tells the history not conventionally but morally. She gives light to the shared experience of oppression that survived throughout the ages.
According to the poet, the words of all the females are power together. In other words, the literacy among the woman is their power and it is this power which is suppressed by the men throughout the ages. In this stanza, the poet portrays the harsh reality of the condition of women in the society. Their imaginations flowed like blood when their bodies erupted like rocks in a volcano.
Analysis of Poem Variations on the Word Love by Margaret Atwood | Owlcation
When these bones became hollow or when the ideas of the women were killed, the bones that represent the suffering of women themselves become mouths and spoke out words. The poet considers these bones as metaphor of suppressed talent of women. This is yellow.
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Outside the window is the rain, green because it is summer, and beyond that the trees and then the world, which is round and has only the colors of these nine crayons. This is the world, which is fuller and more difficult to learn than I have said.
You are right to smudge it that way with the red and then the orange: the world burns. Once you have learned these words you will learn that there are more words than you can ever learn.
Margaret Atwood's You Begin
The word hand floats above your hand like a small cloud over a lake. The word hand anchors your hand to this table, your hand is a warm stone I hold between two words. This is your hand, these are my hands, this is the world, which is round but not flat and has more colors than we can see. You are commenting using your WordPress. You are commenting using your Google account. The house we built gradually from the ground up when we were yo three rooms, the walls raw trees burned down last year they said.
You walked in front of me, pulling me back out to the green light that had once grown fangs and killed me.
Margaret Atwood by Ashley Czepa
I was obedient, but. This is the plum season, the night blue and distended, the moon hazed, this is the season of peach with their lush lobed bulbs that glow in the dusk, apples.
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I am the heart of a murdered woman who took the wrong way home who was strangled in a vacant lot who was shot with care beneath a t who was mutilated by a crisp knife. The snake hunts and sinews his way along and is not his own idea of viciousness.