As I begin this blog, it is only proper to recognize and appreciate the female folk. In order to do this, I would like to dedicate this poetic thoughts below in appraisal of THE WOMAN and in encouragement to every woman out there struggling to still be a force to be reckoned with and on the other hand is holding the pillar called Family.........
THE SHOVELSA woman like the ant most walked upon with little or no repentance
A bowl of
emotions with just a word to blow off the covers
Specie with door
that opens up life most innocent of existence
I hail thee
Woman who bore
and birth life
Harbors pain
with a smile
The sprout of
life often a hope for tomorrow
Tied with the
bond of love, hope, sadness
Hoping against
hope
Thou woman
The trail of
bittersweet log hung on your neck
To carter is in
your slim arms of love
The lives of ten
or less on your breast
Through ages and
generations makes me heave a sigh
Emotions played
like poker in a casino at Las Vegas
The hands of
love and hate intertwined
Your creator in
dire times
What humiliation
you endure in his eyes
After letting go
of pent up heartfelt virtues
He savors the
moment
And moves on to
the next available depth
Like a blood
starved vampire, drying up, no life to suck out
Seconds, minutes,
hours, days go by
With wishes, thoughts
and hope spinning
Speeding around
the mind zone
While he casts
lustful eyes on another
Who readily
stumbles into the same age long pit
That our fore
mothers had pitched their once clean tent on
This seemingly
unstoppable cycle circles
Spinning my head
into a frenzy like a possessed priestess of yemoja the fertility goddess
My heart weeps, my
eyes sweat, my soul drip blood crimson black
For you woman
Yes, those of
you, who sit head bent low
At the foot of
self pity and humiliation
Used as
entertainment and spreading the branches of the tree
Who bury their
own lives 20 feet deep down with their own hands
And a willing
second hand ready to help as selfishness eats up conscience
The result, a
selfish tree of pride and arrogance
I dread to go as
time passes on
As I have to dig
up my own priceless stones
All in
attractive shapes and weights
Buried with the
shovels of emotions and indecent affection
Oh woman
Hold on to yours
once again
With the first
passion, strength and vigor
Let us dig up
these graves filled with precious stones
Most of which
have lives tied around
Before they are
buried alongside our frail bodies
And lives loose
destinies all at the mercy of our shovels.
Poem by MaryAnn Aboshi
3 comments:
Very nice opening,i declare this blog officially open*winks*. it's me,Mrs Curious
OMG this blog is so cute… thumbs up lady M.J!
Nice Piece Never knew you had a poetic streak in you keep up the good work.
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