What's all the world to a man when his wife is a widow.
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What is the world to a man when his wife is a widow.
Black Widow
I just love my nightmares
I cant wait to sleep
Enjoying all my dreams
Got no regrets
I can be a flash of lightning
Striking down on rocks
Burning down the law
Getting things I never got
Turning the world
Nothing unheard
One night can be more than a day
Just like a black widow
Like a black widow
I cant stand the dreamers
Scared of things that fly
They just have sweet fantasies
And fade and die
Nightmares - are so good, so good
And they always end just when they should
Nightmares are cool, nightmares are cruel
I love the fun and the thrill
Just like a black widow
Like a black widow
Black widow
Just like a black widow
Here comes the morning
And who can deny
Leaving the dream is so hard
I love my nightmares
I await their return
And this time, Im dressed to kill, dressed to kill
Just like a black widow............
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I Ever Marry, I'll Marry A Maid
If ever I marry, I'll marry a maid;
To marry a widow, I am sore afraid:
For maids they are simple, and never will grutch,
But widows full oft, as they say, know too much.
A maid is so sweet, and so gentle of kind,
That a maid is the wife I will choose to my mind
A widow is froward, and never will yield;
Or if such there be, you will meet them but seeld.
A maid ne'er complaineth, do what so you will;
But what you mean well, a widow takes ill:
A widow will make you a drudge and a slave,
And, cost ne'er so much, she will ever go brave.
A maid is so modest, she seemeth a rose
When it first beginneth the bud to unclose;
But a widow full-blowen full often deceives,
And the next wind that bloweth shakes down all her leaves.
The widows be lovely, I never gainsay,
But too well all their beauty they know to display;
But a maid hath so great hidden beauty in store,
She can spare to a widow, yet never be poor.
Then, if ever I marry, give me a fresh maid,
If to marry with any I be not afraid;
But to marry with any, it asketh much care;
And some bachelors hold they are best as they are.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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I'm My Own Grandpa
It was many many years ago when I was twenty-three,
I was married to a widow, she's as pretty as can be.
This widow had a grown-up daughter who had hair of red,
my father fell in lover with her, and soon these two were wed.
I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.
This made my dad my son-in-law and changed my very life:
My daughter was my mother 'cause she was my father's wife.
And then to complicate the matter, though it brought me joy,
I soon became the father of a bouncing baby boy.
This bouncing baby then became a brother-in-law to dad,
and so became my uncle, though it made me very sad,
for if he was my uncle then he also was the brother
of the widow's grown-up daughter, who, of course, was my step-mother.
I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.
Father's wife then had a son who kept them on the run.
And he became my grandchild, for he was my daughter's son.
My wife is now my mother's mother, and it makes me blue,
because although she is my wife, she's my grandmother, too.
Now if my wife is my grandmother, then I am her grandchild.
And every time I think of it, it nearly drives me wild.
For now I have become the strangest case you ever saw.
Husband of my grandmother, I am my own grandpa.
I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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A Widow
It's hard to be a widow.
They think of you as one.
And all you ever think of
is how you two had begun.
Couple, pair, twosome,
partners all through life.
Then one day it's over.
You used to be a wife.
Now you eat your meals
all by yourself
and go to bed alone.
You see the chair
across from you
and you'd always known
there'd be a time when one of you
would leave before the other.
And now you're left with children.
You're known as just a mother.
It's hard to be a widow
but there's nothing you can do.
You keep your memories to yourself
when all you knew were two.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Sonnet: The Young Widow
What will she do, the poor widow so young?
Her husband died by accident sudden!
The world will not keep quiet with its tongue;
It blamed the lady for the mishap then.
And now, a few years later, changed have things;
Nay, her agony always does remain;
Her daughter’s growing fast and problems brings;
Though now a doctor, life is sad again.
Society looks down upon a widow!
’Tis a male-dominated cruel world;
What treacherous plight for the lady, oh!
The world on widow-remarriage is cold.
How will she quench her sexual thirsts, O God?
Adulteress in life, she turned, O lord!
poem by John Celes
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Since I've got on the Internet, it's opened a whole world of wasted time for me. My wife says she's an Internet widow.
quote by Mick Ralphs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Give us a chance to show you that those so-called protective laws to aid women - however well intentioned originally - have become in fact restraints, which keep wife, abandoned wife, and widow alike from supporting her family.
quote by Martha Griffiths
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song For Heroes
Captain O’Hare was a mariner brave;
He refused to abandon his ship;
A hero, he sleeps in a watery grave—
And his widow is now Mrs. Bipp,
Haw! Haw!
His widow is now Mrs. Bipp!
Henri Dupont was a fearless young ace;
Five thousand feet up he was hit;
Each year on his grave pretty flowers we place—
And his widow is now Mrs. Schmitt,
Haw! Haw!
His widow is now Mrs. Schmitt!
Corporal Dunn was a volunteer bold;
He plunged in the deadliest fray;
A bayonet thrust laid him out stony cold—
And his widow is now Mrs. Gray,
Haw! Haw!
His widow is now Mrs. Gray!
But Peter McGuck was a cowardly sneak,
Like a hound he remained home in fear;
When fishing one day he fell into the creek—
And his widow is now Mrs. Greer,
Haw! Haw! Haw!
Mrs. William O’Houlihan Greer!
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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The Black Knight's Song
Knight And Wamba
There came three merry men from south, west, and north,
Ever more sing the roundelay;
To win the Widow of Wycombe forth,
And where was the widow might say them nay?
The first was a knight, and from Tynedale he came,
Ever more sing the roundelay;
And his fathers, God save us, were men of great faine,
And where was the widow might say him nay?
Of his father the laird, of his uncle the squire,
He boasted in rhyme and in roundelay;
She bade him go bask by his sea-coal fire,
For she was the widow would say him nay.
Wamba
The next that came forth, swore by blood and by nails,
Merrily sing the roundelay;
Hur's a gentleman, God wot, and hur's lineage was of Wales,
And where was the widow might say him nay?
Sir David ap Morgan ap Griffith ap Hugh
Ap Tudor ap Rhice, quoth his roundelay;
She said that one widow for so many was too few,
And she bade the Welshman wend his way.
But then next came a yeoman, a yeoman of Kent,
Jollily singing his roundelay;
He spoke to the widow of living and rent,
And where was the widow could say him nay?
Both
So the knight and the squire were both left in the mire,
There for to sing their roundelay;
For a yeoman of Kent, with his yearly rent,
There never was a widow could say him nay.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Danae
Leader,
Teacher,
Guide;
Obedient wife or widow,
Love and concern lead to peace!
Wife,
Maidservant,
Concubine;
I am Danae on the love of your muse,
For love is external and it is not a one time thing!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The wife of a careless man is almost a widow.
The son of an old man is an orphan, and his wife is a widow.
It is better to be the widow of a hero than the wife of a coward.
quote by Dolores Ibarruri
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Widow of Massacre
Some said she lost,
None said she crossed,
Nothing was known clear
Something about her was fear.
Everything, though said,
She's a widow of massacre.
If asked, she never say,
because witness you can pay,
She lost hee husband,
Then lost her hand.
Everything, though said,
She's a widow of massacre.
Behind her, there're stories,
Behind stories, there's worries,
Her village was ambushed,
And in bullets, washed.
Everything, though said,
She's a widow of massacre.
She survived the claws of wild,
After death of her single child,
Finally she ran to this village,
Where we paid her homage.
Everything, though said
She's a widow of massacre.
poem by Buyunde Acura Sylivester
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The Poor Boy’s Christmas
Observe, my child, this pretty scene,
And note the air of pleasure keen
With which the widow’s orphan boy
Toots his tin horn, his only toy.
What need of costly gifts has he?
The widow has nowhere to flee.
And ample noise his horn emits
To drive the widow into fits.
MORAL:
The philosophic mind can see
The uses of adversity.
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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A Brief History Of Modern Warfare Vis-a-Vis Men And Woman
The Evolutionary War Wife: Wife created in likeness of diety, concludes husband descended from ape.
The Uncivil Wife War: Slave man uprises against cruel evil owner.
The First World War Wife: The wife to end all wives. War declared. It ended.
Wife World War Two: No peace in our time. After years of conflict, loser Wife passes Marital Martial Plan. Husband gives all money to rebuild loser.
The Korean Police Action Wife: Too much action. Wife calls police. Peace breaks out after divorce.
The War Wife From Southeast Asia: Linga, linga ling, ling, ling, ling, ling. It's over.
The Islamic War Wife: Husband refuses to submit. Jihad finally forces him to knees. He prays it will end soon.
poem by Bob Eichen
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Husband's exit
Widow comes in existence with husband's exit
Painful memories to last with shaky feet
Whole life is in dark with no solution in sight
Life becomes burden and nothing goes right
Woman has some satisfaction if husband has gone away
He may return one day even if found another way
Widow is strictly not called with his exit from life
She stands legally as his estranged wife
Widower stage to felt if something is committed in excess
If husband is beating daily and provides no access
Sexual harassment followed by cruel treatment
Husband is buried alive in mind with resentment
It is living hell for woman to accept status of widow
No option is left for her to think of another window
It is dark future and unbelievable forecast for tomorrow
Nothing to think of world but keep quiet and lie low
Woman has tolerance power and world has acknowledged
She has come out of dark and at least without him managed
No one has dared to defy his womanhood for simple reason
That she is symbol of courage and well understood person
If men ever thinks that women can be played around
And desert them at will to be no where found
It is grave mistake and to be taken into count
Without woman it is almost difficult to mount
If woman is encouraged to show some guts
She may prove exceptionally talented figure, but
She has to be equally respected for her weak character
Now at least time has changed for her to show as formidable character
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Booby Prize Or a Fine Romance? 1
Every once in awhile,
you hear a funny story,
and sometimes you wonder
if what is written there
is fiction or true.
Normally you will not question,
in case it embarrasses or offends.
Well I what I am about to tell you
is it a fib or is it true?
Some thirty-eight years ago,
I went to a funeral of a friend
and ended up with the widow
as a booby prize.
So if I told you that
is exactly how I met my wife,
would you believe me
or would you think I am having you on?
You would be wrong
to think I was having you on.
Because it was at her first husband’s funeral that we met.
It was a few weeks later
a bunch of his friend met, in a coffee bar.
Someone suggested
one of us should take the widow out,
and I drew the short straw
and I got the booby prize
all those years ago,
or was it a fine romance.
I will leave it up to you to decide.
2 July 2007
poem by David Harris
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