Again, I shall be told that the law presumes the husband to be kind, affectionate, and ready to provide for and protect his wife. But what right, I ask, has the law to presume at all on the subject?
quote by Ernestine Rose
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
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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Are You a Good Husband?
All married men want to be called a good husband
A good husband is a decent husband
Mr. Husband what you done to deserve this decency?
Has your wife ever referred to you as her good husband?
It is known that the eyes cannot see itself
Unless by reflection. Have you ever asked
Your wife for a performance appraisal
Honey, how did I perform last year?
On a scale of one to ten, one for very poor
Ten for excellent, how did I perform?
Your wife may think you are now on new drugs
If you receive less than six, you need to
Start fence mending before it is too late
A good husband sees his wife as his friend
A nice husband treats his wife as his lover
A decent husband regards his wife as a soul-mate
You should anticipate what your wife
Will need before she makes any request
By the way, have you ever bought a gift
For your wife without an occasion?
Do you have to wait for her birthday?
To inform her that she is very special to you?
Do you have to wait for your wedding anniversary?
To tell her that she is the best thing in your life
When last did you talk to your wife in-laws?
When last did you visit your wife in-laws?
What have you done to be called a good husband?
Ask for performance appraisal on a regular basis
Remember, if you make your wife happy
You will get happiness in return
poem by Julius Babarinsa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pretty woman
Pretty woman.
But wife is beautiful.
Pretty woman is hot.
But wife is the sexiest.
Pretty woman is just for sex.
But a wife is to make love.
Wife is a forbidden fruit.
To you and all.
and wife is more caring.
Be at home and by her husband.
and wife is the husband diamond.
And the husband love making love to her.
That no other women can.
Make him feel so good.
and her husband always in love.
With her.
And wife is the husband success.
Loving and warm full happiness.
She bears our children. And
She is the most gifted darling.
poem by See Fee Lee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thanks Mom
You carried me in your womb.
You held me in your arms.
You told me that you’d love and protect me always.
But where were you when your husband touched me in place he should not?
Where were you when he made me touch him?
Where were you when he muffled my cries?
Where you when he told me if I told you’d die?
For years I kept my mouth shut, but not because
I wanted to. But I did it to protect you.
Now, yesterday when I told you because my mouth could
be silent no more. Instead of hugging me and saying you’re
sorry you push me away and called me a liar. That hurt me
more than all the abuse I took in silence for you. I just can’t believe
the one that I love the most don’t love me at all.
Thanks Mom! !
This poem is not about me just something I heard in my head.
The Seahorse
The seahorse doesn’t do divorce:
It picks a spouse for life.
The wife’s the husband and, perforce,
The husband is the wife.
A husband, feeling rightly proud
(As husbands are, of course) ,
Will say of her who’s well endowed:
‘My wife’s hung like a horse.’
poem by South Westerner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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‘i Do’
Today I’m saying to the girl I’m marrying ‘I do’,
but you know that I’d rather be saying it to you.
I’ve known and loved you practically all of my life,
but soon I’m making someone else my wife.
We promised each other that we would wed one day,
but the opportunities in life never came my way.
You didn’t want to live a life of struggle and pain
and I couldn’t provide your dream of fortune and fame.
You married an older man that you don’t even love,
but has that given you what you were dreaming of?
It seems your eyes are saying that you still love me
and yet you chose unhappiness for the sake of security.
Are you here to tell me that you’re ready to change your life
by divorcing your husband and becoming my wife?
If you can’t follow your heart there’s nothing more to say,
except that my wedding is only two hours away.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Reciprocal Relationship
Wife and husband
reciprocate through love
as a centrifugal force
that settles only
to one another
Wife and husband
reciprocate through understanding
as a bonding conduit
to overrule electrifying
disagreements
Reciprocating wife and husband
make love and understanding
as best way of communication
that sustain the romance
and lasting relationship
When reciprocating collapses
between a husband and wife
romantic expression ceases
and the marital connection
becomes sour and arid
Reciprocating with each other
through love and understanding
builds up stronger foundation
as contented wife and husband
blessed with happy marriage
poem by Marvin Brato Sr
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Being a Man
Provider
Is the man's role
Doing anything to provide
Protect
Puting their safety in front of his
Now.......
You can't provide without education
Without education you can't get a good job
Without a good job you can't provide
You can't protect correctly
Bullets
Knives
A man is a Provider
Protector
Father
Son
Brother
Leader of Worship
A living example of Christ
poem by Melissa Pierre
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The Faithful Wife
The faithful wife in the Christ
Obeys her husband's word;
Claims her own authority
By calling her husband, lord.
She will love her husband dearly
As she submits unto his hand,
Teaches younger women so
In this her family stands.
The faithful wife perceives in God
Her husband is given rule;
As he submits unto the Lord
But a rebellious wife is a fool.
poem by Richard Merrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Ideal Husband
An ideal husband doesn't argue,
He never squabbles or swears,
Only about his wife he cares.
He always says kind words,
Doesn't do anything that hurts.
Doesn't play cards or guzzles away money,
Days and nights repeats: You are my honey!
Out of the rest he is much wiser,
He is not poor or a miser.
In all he is good and so nice,
Always gives a good advice.
An ideal husband is very strong,
And his wife is never wrong.
Even in bed he is the best,
Every day with him is a fest.
At other women he never looks,
And plus to that he nicely cooks.
He is so handsome and not boring,
And you will never hear him snoring.
His wife is blameless and so gorgeous,
She goes out and he's not jealous.
In all his wife he loves to assist.
Does such a husband really exist?
It seems he can be found only in dreams.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 22 of September,2012
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mistake of Fact!
Crow! Crow!
Male crow! Female crow!
Love each other,
Wife and husband;
Wife crow lays eggs,
All are white!
Husband crow suspects
Loyalty and fidelity;
Ignorant husband,
Innocent wife,
Wife crow shows
other nests;
Trust assured
Sorry sorry,
Mistake of Fact, Forget it,
We love for ever!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lecturer
He wrote on the board
“The husband said the wife
Is having an extra-marital affair”.
He asks the class, “Who is having the EMA? ”
Shout comes up loud, “the wife”.
He takes a piece of chalk, and puts two commas
One after husband, and one after wife.
It now reads, “The husband, said the wife, is
Having an extra-marital affair”.
He asks the class, “Who is having the EMA? ”
Confused murmur of husband, wife flutters.
“Not a word has changed, but the meaning has reversed
With just two commas.” Eats shoots and leaves, eh?
May I start the lecture on grammar, he said.
The class was all ears.
D T Joseph
19.02.08
poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
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Togetherness Is Gone
My wife,
Stop cleaning the house
Please come here
To accompany me
My husband,
The house is dirty
We aren't able to pay the maid
You've already retired
My wife,
Don't cook
It's a holiday
Let us eat outside the home
My husband,
Don't eat outdoors
We need efficient
You've already retired
My wife,
Let's keep me company
Why the rush to sleep
It's still early
My husband,
I have to get up early
To clean the house
And prepare breakfast
My wife,
I have to go this morning
My friends were waiting
Long we don't meet
My husband,
Be careful on the road
Greetings for your friends
But, why not breakfast?
My wife,
You have fallen asleep last night
I see you sleeping soundly all
I don't have the heart to wake you
My husband,
I'm sorry
I don't welcome you home
But, why should sleep on the sofa?
My wife,
I have to go again
I have social activities
With my old friends
My husband,
Don't forget dinner at home
You look very dapper
Although not wear perfume
My wife,
sorry, we were very busy
I had dinner with friends
Happy dinner, dear
My husband,
I woke up too early
But you're not at home
Where are you?
My wife,
I came home at midnight
I have to go early in the morning
I don't have the heart to wake you
My husband,
I just finished washing clothes
I've found the clothes that you wear today
But, why the smell of perfume?
poem by Hasanudin Sofyan
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Misaking A Mistress For A Violin
MISTAKING A MISTRESS FOR A VIOLIN
The man who mistook his mistress for a violin
is the subject of a book by J. M. Coetzee.
Mistaking music for a mistress is a sin
more serious than to eat bread without saying motsi.
When sex becomes a contest in which you subject
erotic will to your opponent, wife or wench,
don’t treat her like a piece of bread, and don’t object
if she declares she is not ready yet to bensch.
Motsi is the Hebrew name of a piece of bread a Jew may not eat before saying a blessing, hamotsi lehem min ha’arets, meaning “He who brings forth bread from the earth.” Bensch means “bless, ” and in the context of eating bread it refers to the blessing that in Hebrew is called birkat hamazon, meaning “the blessing for food.” Coetzee’s description of himself as “the man who mistook his mistress for a violin” is clearly an allusion to Oliver Sacks’s story of the man with visual agnosia who mistook his wife for a hat.
The poem was in part inspired by Tim Parks’s review of J. M. Coetzee’s “Summertime: A Fiction, ” a novel that may or may not be autobiographical (“The Education of ‘John Coetzee, ’” NYR (February 11,2010) :
Following Boyhood (1997) and Youth (2002) , Summertime concludes J.M. Coetzee's autobiographical trilogy. It is a teasing and surprisingly funny book, at once as elaborately elusive and determinedly confessional as ever autobiography could be. If Boyhood and Youth were remarkable for Coetzee's use of the third person (the author declining to identify with his younger self) and the present tense (a narrative device more commonly associated with fiction than memoir) , Summertime takes both distancing and novelizing a step further. Despite our seeing Coetzee's name on the cover and hence assuming the author alive and well, we are soon asked to believe that he is now dead, the book being made up of five interviews conducted by an anonymous biographer who is speaking to people he presumes were important to the writer during the years 1972–1975.
Coetzee writes about the affair he has, possibly fact, possibly fiction, with a psychotherapist called Julia:
John, she says, was actually “a minor character” in a drama played out between herself and her husband. While the latter was traveling, the lovers enjoyed an “erotic entanglement” in the marital bed. Yet John was peripheral to her life; at the one moment when she was ready to leave her husband and he could have become a major player, he “took fright” and snuck out of the hotel where she was sleeping….Certainly there’s comedy to be had in the description of this willfully unassertive man partnering a woman who sees sex “as a contest, a variety of wrestling in which you do you best to subject your opponent to your erotic will.” “He was not in my league, ” Julia complains. When John tries to persuade her to moderate her lovemaking to fir the slow movement of a Schubert string quintet, the better to “re-experience” the sexual feelings of a bygone age, Julia shows him the door. “The man who mistook his mistress for a violin, ” she comments.
1/30/10
poem by Gershon Hepner
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My Wife’s Second Husband
THE WORLD goes round, old fellow,
And still I’m in the swim,
While my wife’s second husband
Is growing old and grim.
I meet him in the city—
It all seems very tame—
He glances at me sometimes
As if I were to blame.
Oh, my wife’s second husband
Was handsome, young and true;
He had his boyish visions
(I had my visions too).
He made a model lover—
The greenest in the game—
They say, when I was married
That I was just the same.
Though I am ten years older
My hair is dark to-day,
While my wife’s second husband
Is quickly growing grey.
I drank when first he knew me,
And he drank not at all;
I see that he, through drinking,
Is going to the wall.
A sweet ill-treated woman,
A drunken brute (Good Lord!)—
Ah, well, she got her freedom,
And he got his reward.
He’ll fight it out a season,
For Fate will not be forced,
But my wife’s second husband
Shall surely be divorced.
I sympathize, and wonder
What mutual friends would think
If my wife’s second husband
And I should have a drink.
And I a mere bystander—
It almost seems absurd—
Might lay prophetically
My hand on my wife’s third.
But my wife’s second husband
His sorrows shall forget,
We’ll clasp warm hands in friendship
And clink our glasses yet.
We’ll smoke cigars together,
In pure philosophy,
While calmly contemplating
The fate of number three.
poem by Henry Lawson
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She Was A Nice Old Lady
Does it really matter one little bit at all
If only her family and her few friends memories of her do recall
She was a nice old lady that much of her I did know
But she did not die easily her end painful and slow
I had not seen her for somewhile but sad am I to say
That this evening one who knew her told me she was buried yesterday
In the flesh she will not be seen walking in the park again
But fond memories of her in those who knew her are destined to remain
Pre-deceased by her husband he died ten years ago
Their only offspring a Granddad in his late fifties the years on him begin to show
To her son she was a good mother and to her husband she was a good wife
A kind and caring person and one who did love life
Since her husband life departed she had lived on her own
She did not have a public profile and she was not well known.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Queen Of Compromise
It's no ordinary mind
That can read between the lines
And can say which way the fates are fating
When you're skating on thin ice
Crocodiles in paradise
Just below your feet they lie in waiting
You don't have to take my side
But these arms are open wide
There is something in your eyes still glowing
It's your husband, it's your wife
Your money, it's your life
It's that special kind of knowing
It happens all the time
I read your mind
Where dreams take second place
I'll invade your space
Your secrets will be mine
What's your sign?
There are way too many flies
On the queen of compromise
'Cos she'll never know the acts she's selling
She could try me out for size
'Cos there's something on the rise
And it might just help reduce the swelling
We won't need to publicise
I don't think that would be wise
So this something we must hide
So it can keep on growing
It's your husband, it's your wife
Your money, it's your life
It's that special kind of knowing
It happens all the time
I read your mind
Where dreams take second place
I'll invade your space
Your secrets will be mine
What's your sign?
It's so good to be alive
I can count from one to five
But I can't control the way things are going
It's your husband it's your wife
Your money, it's your life
It's that special kind of knowing
song performed by by Tears For Fears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Booby Prize Or A Fine Romance? 2
Yesterday I wrote a joke poem,
Booby Prize Or A Fine Romance,
it told the story of how I met my wife,
all those years ago.
Yes, it was at her first husband’s funeral,
and yes a group of us
met a couple weeks later in a coffee bar,
but no it was not the drawing of a straw,
it was that I volunteered,
which I guess was lucky for me,
because on the 12th of September this year
we celebrate our 37th Wedding Anniversary.
Her first husband was a friend,
but he was a womaniser.
He met his dead in a suicide pact
with a fourteen-year-old girl.
He left a wife and two small children,
without a thought or care,
a month before Christmas that year.
Some said I was brave
to take on a ready-made family.
I do not think I was brave,
but very lucky that day.
We have had our ups and downs
like all families do,
but I would not change a bit of it.
The greatest gifts I received that day,
was a family for a lonely life,
and tolerance through trouble and strife.
Therefore, it is with thanks to them,
I am the man I am today.
poem by David Harris
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Bottled Up Horny Christian
3
times
in
4
years &
1 of those times brought on the little boy whom she spends most of her time taking care of these days
(that is, after all, the reason her man married her-for her child rearing capability)
and she thinks this second sexless marriage
brings with it the security that the first marriage did not
(first guy & her went at it like bunnies until he started finding other bunnies as well) -
the making of constant whoopee that came with the first guy
is secretly missed,
even if she wasn't the only one that had been tickling his pickle-
still, it is hard to ignore the long stretches of time that her "faithful" husband is gone
with his phone turned off,
or just left on the kitchen table, as if he had been out of the house in an awful rush &
when the baby is asleep &
she's masturbating alone
(well, she still has "jesus, " right? -that strapping young fictional character) ,
she wonders just what she did
for "god" to condemn her in such a way,
as certainly this choice was hers alone,
but everyone that raised her told her that if she followed the ways of the bible,
that if she didn't cheat on her husband &
that if she was a good wife,
then things would be ok for her-that "god" would provide-
but would "god" provide her orgasms?
she knows that if she even so much as asks where her husband has been
that said good christian man will make her wish that she hadn't &
that is why she doesn't-
instead, she just moans alone by the grace of "god, " until she gets off &
then feels guilty about having had any pleasure at all-
she knows that when the next time rolls around that the family goes to church,
that she will look good playing the roll of the dutiful wife,
wound tight in her gingham dress & smiling at her husband
who is smiling at some other church whore-
all the time pent up & about to explode from such relentless sexual
craving, wondering if she'll ever have sex again,
telling her close friends that she doesn't even think about it much,
that her hands are full with the baby-
putting on the best show of her life, daily,
she obviously missed her true calling in life-
she would've made a great actress.
poem by Andrew Delapruch
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