Widows weep but they look for another husband.
South American proverbs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Blues For The Widow Of The Victim Of A Racist Attck
Mourn, and mourn hard
Your tears shall fall wasted and uncollected
On this damp slab of concrete
Mourn though young widow
Weep because your husband is dead
Cry because the crowd has left and you're alone
And ganged up against by the priests and the
Celebrity pastors who piously tell you
To forgive and forget
Sob because you're surrounded by the officials
Whom the wise state has instructed to order you
To accept reconciliation without justice
Cry the river of your tears because
Your dear departed husband is dead
And your lovely children will know what it's like
To miss the soothing voice of their father
So brutally snatched away from them
And dragged behind a speeding vehicle and fed
To the lions for the sick amusement
Of a deranged and kaffir hating racist
Mourn for yourself mama
Now you'll face the world alone
With the dubious title of a single parent
Hanging on your fragile and emaciated neck
Mourn and cry and weep for the widows
Of the victims of genocide
Mourn and cry and weep for the sisters
Who are cornered and raped by their xenophobic neighbors
Mourn and cry and weep for the victims of the hurricane of
The internecine strife of ethnic cleansing and tribal warfare
Mourn and cry and weep for they
Who die unlamented in the flower of their youth
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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A Husband...
A husband should be
Loyal and honest
A husband should be
Strong and protective
A husband should be
Loving and romantic
A husband should be
Patient and understanding
A husband should know
When enough is enough
A husband should know
When to fight and when to cry
A husband should know
all your goals and dreams
A husband should know
your strengths and well as your weaknesses
A husband needs to be a true man
A husband needs to love you unconditionally
A husband needs to know your heart is forever his
poem by Sarah Holmes
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The Opposing Sex
The Widows of Ashur
Are loud in their wailing:
'No longer the 'masher'
Sees Widows of Ashur!'
So each is a lasher
Of Man's smallest failing.
The Widows of Ashur
Are loud in their wailing.
The Cave of Adullam,
That home of reviling
No wooing can gull 'em
In Cave of Adullam.
No angel can lull 'em
To cease their defiling
The Cave of Adullam,
That home of reviling.
At men they are cursing
The Widows of Ashur;
Themselves, too, for nursing
The men they are cursing.
The praise they're rehearsing
Of every slasher
At men. _They_ are cursing
The Widows of Ashur.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Weep Day
I never went to the tropical island
Though everybody said they saw me there
And it wasnt me you punched a hole in
At the west german protest march
Simultaneous events dont happen
We are isolated temporally
And a part is never called the whole thing
Though it bothers us to know its so
Every man is made of two opinions
Every woman has a second half
And its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
Yes, its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
I didnt write the words you hear me singing (didnt write the words you hear me singing)
I didnt sing the line before this one (didnt sing the line before this one)
You are not the one I was addressing (you are not the one I was addressing)
That person took a train to africa (africa)
Where he met the consulate from belgium
Who is now a buddhist in a cave
Who is pitching for the oakland raiders
Striking out the batter she became
Every man is made of two opinions
Every woman has a second half
And its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
Yes, its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
Yes, its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
Weep day for urine man (weep day for urine man)
Weep day for urine man (weep day for urine man)
Weep day for urine man (weep day for urine man)
Weep day weep day
Weep day weep day
Weep day weep day
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Continuous persecution of widows and orphans is a crime. Even the Bible says there is a specific place in hell for those who oppress widows.
quote by Imelda Marcos
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peekaboo: Three Songs For The Nursery
The longer thou livest, the more fool thou.
I
Go hide! Go hide! But through the latticework
Of my upraised bone hands
I see athlete and statesman, priest and clerk
Step forth as deodands.
Risking more than they know of life and limb
In playing Peekaboo—
Whose happiest chances couldn’t be called “slim”—
I’ve tagged each: ICU
II
Cry; baby, cry!
You’ve got two reasons why.
The first is being born at all:
The second, my peremptory call.
Cry; baby, cry!
Weep, baby, weep!
No solaces in sleep.
Nightmare will ruin your repose
And daylight resurrect your woes.
Weep, baby, weep!
III
Bah, bah, black sheep, you supply the needs
Plaguing mourners: stylish widows’ weeds.
Haute couture for all the fashion shows.
Black is the color of my true love’s clothes.
poem by Anthony Evan Hecht
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Weep Not Nigeria
Weep not Nigeria,
for justice is in the offing.
Weep not Nigeria,
for your cries resonate and ring.
Weep not Nigeria,
It's time for your African spring.
Weep not Nigeria,
none shall usurp your role as king.
Weep not Nigeria,
for soon in ecstasy you'll sing.
Weep not Nigeria,
for to towering heights you'll cling.
Weep not Nigeria,
and soar atop the eagle's wing.
Weep not Nigeria,
for your patience will gladness bring.
Weep not Nigeria,
it's time to sing the ding dong song.
Weep not Nigeria,
for your misery will not be long.
Weep not Nigeria,
for you are numbered with the strong.
poem by Joseph C Ogbonna (11 July 2018)
Submitted by Joseph C Ogbonna
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My Husband.
Husband is someone;
You spend most of your life with.
And with him;
You are for years.
My life has become strong;
For my husband is not wrong.
My life has become independent;
For my husband never let me dependent.
My life has become pure;
For my husband had every cure.
My life has become romantic;
For my husband is very aromatic.
My life had a new beginning;
For my husband was nearing.
And the most valuable gift-
My husband has given me;
Are my 2 wonderful and the best kids-
And I thank God,
For the wonderful family he has given me.
poem by Anju Addanki
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Weep No More
Mary, don't you weep no more
Mary, don't you weep no more
'Cuz, I got your letter today
Pack my bags and I'm on my way
So, don't you weep no more
Don't you weep no more
Dry your eyes
Don't you shed no tears
The sun is risin'
So, put away your fears
Cuz, I know I once done you wrong
I want to say I'm sorry
And I'm comin' back home
So, don't you weep no more
Don' t you weep no more
I hear your voice in the wind
And I feel your tears in the rain
Shadows of night are falling
Can't you hear me call your name
I'm comin' home
I'm comin' home
So, don't you weep
Don't you weep
Don't you weep
Don't you weep no more
song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where It Was At Back Then
Husband,
last night I dreamt
they cut off your hands and feet.
Husband,
you whispered to me,
Now we are both incomplete.
Husband,
I held all four
in my arms like sons and daughters.
Husband,
I bent slowly down
and washed them in magical waters.
Husband,
I placed each one
where it belonged on you.
'A miracle,'
you said and we laughed
the laugh of the well-to-do.
poem by Anne Sexton
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The steel workers have now buried their dead, while the widows weep and watch their orphaned children become objects of public charity. The murder of these unarmed men has never been publicly rebuked by any authoritative officer of the state or federal government.
quote by John L. Lewis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: On Widows
My heart feels truly sorry for widows,
Who're young and lose their husbands suddenly;
What quirk of fate has given them such woes?
-Of solitude, sexlessness forcefully.
My mind is angered yet, when I behold,
A frantic widow searching for a mate!
Her heart is cold, vixen-like, she is bold;
A female-spider-like, she waits to bait.
My God, how pangs of sex affect women,
Who've tasted love's magic potion on bed?
The widows are much worse off than such men,
Their bosom's fire aren't so easily dead.
Yet, how will widows fight their love onslaughts?
-Companionless, for life, on empty cots?
poem by John Celes
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Merry Christmas To All Husbands
During a certain Christmas service
Or Mass as some are wont to say
The officiating priest asked widows
To step forward for a special prayer
Of blessing and favour, intoning
That God remains their undying husband
A certain woman sitting beside her
Husband on one of the front pews
Jumped to her feet hurriedly
To the bewilderment of the poor man
Who promptly pulled her hand
And reminded her of what the priest said
But the enraged woman, looking askance,
Swiftly brushed her husband's hand aside
As though loaded with filth, and retorted,
'Are you alive when you can't provide
The needs of your family, even at a season like this? '
Stunned and speechless, the man's jaw dropped as though
He was a church mouse caught prancing on the pulpit
And the congregation roared in derisive laughter
But from me to all husbands, 'Merry Christmas
And a prosperous New Year in the name of
Our Lord, Jesus Christ, the head of all husbands
And, indeed, all men.Amen.'
(C) Chris Jibero. 2010.
poem by Chris Jibero
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My Sweet Child
they took it
they took it all
they took it all away from me
sit and weep sit and weep
i want it
i want it all
i want it all back to me
why can't they give it back to me
sit and weep sit and weep
my sweet child
if words could give
i would give it all
i would give it all
i would give it all back to your heart
but i can't
so i sit
sit and weep
sit and weep
with you
weep wipe away the wounds
i pray
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Weep not, Brokenhearted
Let's attempt to foil
A possible emotional turmoil
Our tempers have been set to boil
Shame! You blame
The very existence of my name
For the aftermath of our fun game
I feel the same, I feel the same
Weep not, Brokenhearted
Weep! Weep! Not
You insisted you wanted only fun
Today you talk of me as if a con
Now that your heart is worn and torn
Weep not, Brokenhearted
Weep! Weep! Not
I thought fun for a couple of days
After we’ll go our separate ways
I simply cannot understand
How I have led you astray
You said the words, you needed fun, you were bored
Weep not, Brokenhearted
Weep! Weep! Not
Once you sung the words to your song
I locked my heart with a key
Threw it away, so of you I would be free
Copyright 2006 -Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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My Husband
It is true:
My husband
has never
taken out
the garbage
from our little house
in the suburbs.
My husband
has never
taken our children
out for the night
to trick-or-treating
as I sit
on the porch in a witch hat.
My husband
has never
come home from
a long day
to a special meal
I have prepared
just for him.
My husband
has never
told me he loves me
beside a warm fire
on our honeymoon.
But he will.
poem by Erica Francis
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Family life
At home
Husband
And wife...
Some time fighting...
Word's to words...
With bad words...
Sometime hit
The husband wife
Mistakes...
Wife was crying...
Husband was woory...
Wife also
Lovingely hit...
Husband also take easy...
At night husband
Wanted wife
For sex...
Wife will say
Backpain acting
Going for
Hear with life
Every day
At familylife...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Worth A Shot
What kind of lottery have we won?
When we are here having fun
War-torn countries at the end of a gun
Where the dying has just begun
People dying
Children crying
Widows weeping
Justice sleeping
Contemplate this, it would be a start
With wisdom and effort we may impart
For someone’s existence, a piece of our heart
Making a difference before we depart
People dying
Children crying
Widows weeping
Justice sleeping
Corporate America are you hearing this?
Can anyone see how they are so remiss?
Reaping millions where ignorance is bliss
Their dollars filling their own void, an abyss
People dying
Children crying
Widows weeping
Justice sleeping
It’s what we do with what we’ve got
It’s who we help with who knows what
It’s sharing with those who have not
Don’t you think it’s worth a shot?
poem by Rose Falcone
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Be kind and courteous to the husband
Who / which is
supporting the elderly woman?
Is it the walker or the husband?
The walker never fails,
The husband sometimes forgets;
The walker never protests,
The husband sometimes pretests
and raises his voice;
You can be rude to the walker,
But be kind and courteous to the husband.
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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At The Time When Evil Men Triumph
his silence is deeper than the
seven oceans
how can he accept that on his
beloved land
evil men triumph
the bad unabated?
there were ten bodies unclaimed
for ten days
the widows cannot weep for
their husbands and children
all swept by the bullets
of his terror
i look at it stoically
God is testing us what to do in times like these.
A tooth cannot be for another tooth.
Those were the years of eyes plucking each others' eyes.
There is this I, standing, there is this I, undisturbed
The devil now is worried
There is this I that worships God
no matter what.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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