A forty-year-old woman is only something to men who have loved her in her youth.
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The Age of Wisdom
Ho! pretty page, with the dimpled chin,
That never has known the Barber's shear,
All your wish is woman to win;
This is the way that boys begin--
Wait till you come to Forty Year.
Curly gold locks cover foolish brains,
Billing and cooing is all your cheer;
Sighing and singing of midnight strains,
Under Bonnybell's windowpanes--
Wait till you come to Forty Year!
Forty times over let Michaelmas pass,
Grizzling hair the brain doth clear;
Then you know a boy is an ass,
Then you know the worth of a lass,
Once you have come to Forty Year.
Pledge me round; I bid ye declare,
All good fellows whose beards are gray,
Did not the fairest of the fair
Common grow and wearisome, ere
Ever a month was passed away?
The reddest lips that ever have kissed
The brightest eyes that ever have shone,
May pray and wisper and we not list,
Or look away and never be missed,
Ere yet ever a month is gone.
Gillian's dead, God rest her bier--
How I loved her twenty years syne!
Marian's married; but I sit here,
Alive and merry at Forty Year,
Dipping my nose in Gascon wine.
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Two Loves
The woman he loved, while he dreamed of her,
Danced on till the stars grew dim,
But alone with her heart, from the world apart
Sat the woman who loved him.
The woman he worshipped only smiled
When he poured out his passionate love.
But the other somewhere, kissed her treasure most rare,
A book he had touched with his glove.
The woman he loved betrayed his trust,
And he wore the scars for life;
And he cared not, nor knew, that the other was true;
But no man called her his wife.
The woman he loved trod festal halls,
While they sang his funeral hymn,
But the sad bells tolled, ere the year was old,
For the woman that loved him.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Hilda
I know a woman she is forty three
And she still search for an identity
I'm still a stranger to myself she say
And in the maze of life I've lost my way.
Retrenched from her job earlier this year
She does not know where she is going from here
She now live on welfare a quarter of her wage
And her barrier to employment is her age.
With job seekers half of her age she must compete
And she feels that by time she has been beat
At forty three on the wrong side of time
And employers see her as well beyond her prime.
She was a young woman twenty years ago
And Hilda herself still doesn't seem to know
Where her life's going to, she feels a lost soul
And a bleak looking future on the dole.
I know a woman she is unemployed
And out of work to her means loss of pride
And though on her birthday she was forty three
She still searches for an identity.
poem by Francis Duggan
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If We Had Met
If we had met when leaves were green,
And fate to us less hard had proved,
And naught had been of what has been,
We might have loved as none have loved.
If we had met as girl and boy,
The world of pleasure at our feet,
Our joy had been a perfect joy;
We might have met, but did not meet.
Nor less in youth's full passionate day,
A woman you and I a man,
We might have loved and found a way
No laws could check, no vows could ban.
Too late! Too sad! A year ago,
Even then perhaps, in spite of fate
It might have been,--but ah! not now,
I dare not love you, 'tis too late.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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At forty life begins
I say it with a grin
At forty life begins
Relaunching itself
into a birthless age
Its a phase
Its a stage
Its a case
a renewed forty year package
The rebirth of youth
Its time to loose
all your old fashioned suits
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
www.sylviachidi.com
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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I Am Not A Woman...
I am not a woman that loves with a heart
I am not a woman that's silly and smart
I am not a woman with open wounds
I am not a woman that's more attuned
I am not a woman that you hold dear
I am not a woman that has no fear
I am not a woman that's loved or lost
I am not a woman that doesn't know the cost
I am not a woman that's hurting inside
I am not a woman that has no foolish pride
I am not a woman that can't look you in the eye
I am not a woman alone that cries
I am not a woman that's imprisoned with chains
I am not a woman that holds her will in vain
I am not a woman, or mother, or friend
or wife, or daughter, or one to depend
I am not a woman of all and more
Because I gave it away to the one I adore
what's left is all you see
Just a woman that truly believes
Dialogue Between Hamlet And His Conscience
- She's- She's in the riverbed, in algae
And weeds...She went to them
To sleep, - but there's no sleep there, either!
- But she's the one I loved
Like forty thousand brothers
Couldn't love!
- Hamlet!
She's in the riverbed, in algae:
Algae! . . And her last garland
Has surfaced in the logs by the bank...
- But she's the one I loved
Like forty thousand...
- Less,
Even so, than a single lover.
She's in the riverbed, in algae.
- But she's the one -
I loved??
poem by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
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Have You Ever Loved A Woman
(by billy myles)
Have you ever loved a woman so much you tremble in pain?
Have you ever loved a woman so much you tremble in pain?
And all the time you know she bears another mans name.
But you just love that woman so much its a shame and a sin.
You just love that woman so much its a shame and a sin.
But all the time you know she belongs to your very best friend.
Have you ever loved a woman and you know you cant leave her alone?
Have you ever loved a woman and you know you cant leave her alone?
Something deep inside of you wont let you wreck your best friends home.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Year After Year: A Love Song.
YEAR after year the cowslips fill the meadow,
Year after year the skylarks thrill the air,
Year after year, in sunshine or in shadow,
Rolls the world round, love, and finds us as we were.
Year after year, as sure as birds' returning,
Or field-flowers' blossoming above the wintry mould,
Year after year, in work, or mirth, or mourning,
Love we with love's own youth, that never can grow old.
Sweetheart and ladye-love, queen of boyish passion,
Strong hope of manhood, content of age began;
Loved in a hundred ways, each in a different fashion,
Yet loved supremely, solely, as we never love but one.
Dearest and bonniest! though blanched those curling tresses,
Though loose clings the wedding-ring to that thin hand of thine,--
Brightest of all eyes the eye that love expresses!
Sweetest of all lips the lips long since kissed mine!
So let the world go round with all its sighs and sinning,
Its mad shout o'er fancied bliss, its howl o'er pleasures past:
That which it calls love's end to us was love's beginning:--
I clasp my arms about thy neck and love thee to the last.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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A Loved Woman
A loved woman's heart is a new lit candle,
Incandescent fire bright,
Her lambent eyes are sparkling stars
Glowing through the blackest night.
A loved woman's walk is fairy footfall
Leaping through the air so light,
A loved woman's hair will catch the
moonbeams
And reflect celestial white.
A loved woman's laughter -- silver bells
Ringing in the twinkling foam,
Her soul will soar to the highest
heights
Of Heaven's vast and starry dome!
!
poem by Marian Hallet
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Power to the women
Give power to the woman that wakes up at dawn to have her family ready for the day
Give power to that woman that
That fathers her children
To that woman that gave birth to our heroes and heroines
To that woman that molded the good men out there
Give power to that woman that works two jobs to feed their families
Give power to that woman that made it in a male dominated industry,
Kept her calm and conquered
Give power to that woman that rose above all odds
Power to that woman that didn't give up on love after being
Being cheated
Ill treated
Abused
Called names and never appreciated
Power to that woman that loved even though she had never felt loved
To that woman that cared when she was never cared for
When betrayal and hate filled her heart with rage
Poisoned and bitter, she still loved anyhow
Power to that woman, for she is strong
Power to that woman for being a woman
Power to the women
Power to the women!
poem by Solomon Kobela
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Crucial forty
At forty a woman is threatened
Of losing ever her charm and
To test her worthiness, is inclined,
Edging to adultery at hand.
Above forty a man is warned
Of his age and weary of his wife.
To test his vim he is emboldened,
Waging adultery in wiles.
Potent woman often slips.
Virulent man often hooks.
Law is to transgress,
Code is to infringe,
When instincts spurt.
12.10.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Forty is the old age of youth, fifty is the youth of old age.
quote by Hosea Ballou
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forty is the old age of youth; fifty the youth of old age.
quote by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forty is the old age of youth fifty is the youth of old age.
quote by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Cheesy For You (2008)
That warm romancing day is coming, drawing near
Though it's just a day, we're together another year
Everyday I love you, how a woman should be loved
Everyday I hug you, how a woman should be hugged
Though this day, more foreplay is revealed throughout the day
Everything may be the same, no need to ask, either way I obey
Everywhere I must kiss you, where a woman should be kissed
Everywhere I pleasure you, where a woman should be pleasured
Oh how you just love your Valentines Day
Such a day to feast on one another's display
Oh how you just love your Valentines Day
How you stare and undress, to get your way.
poem by David Joel Rodriguez
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Her Desire for 40G
Now back when I was 28,
I met and loved a 38 –
DD!
Hmm…I never really saw her eyes…
Perhaps I never needed to –
‘Twas all about her size.
Come on, be honest,
You really show surprise?
Oh yes, the storyline:
One sunny day she said to me,
‘I need to make you happy, see,
By undergoing surgery
So you can have my guarantee
That when you see my 40G,
You’ll hit new heights of ecstasy! ’
‘Phew! ’ I drew a breath.
‘Well thank you dear, you’re very kind,
But won’t you risk me going blind?
If one of those should catch my eye,
I’m sure to wave them both goodbye;
And after all, you’re rather tall –
With extra weight you’ll likely fall;
Forwards, I should clarify.
Hmm…we’re back again to my poor eye.’
‘It’s all about your precious sight! ’
She screamed at me with all her might,
‘I only want to make you proud
And me to stand out in the crowd.’
‘You do already stand right out!
Any more, then there’s no doubt
You might as well just poke me blind,
So in the streets I’ll tag behind,
Unaware of all the fuss,
Especially when on the bus –
Assuming you could squeeze on board…
Hmm…at least I know I’ll be ignored…
Okay – go get them done.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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That Fifty Year Old Woman
That fifty year old woman
she is someones mother
that fifty year old woman
she is someones lover
them fifty years of her life
unseen by a cover.
Covered by the leaves
from the autumn trees is the grass
surrounded by blue tape
and nosey people who pretend to pass
a group of actors walk by
they have come from a history class
to make history new
with conversation with questions to ask.
A fifty year old woman
in an autumn so cold
a fifty year old woman
seen dark winter unfold
them fifty years of life
it is all we are told.
The actors, they didn't get any information
they did not get pictures
nothing known about the situation
nothing at all to discuss
fifty years of age is all thats said
on the morning paper on the fifty bus
thats all thats said
a fifty year old woman, shes found dead.
That fifty year old woman
shes not someones mother
that fifty year old woman
how she had no lover
them fifty years of life
unseen by a cover.
That fifty year old woman
she was quoted in the paper today
that fifty year old woman will be gone tomorrow
the writers they will show no sorrow
because its the way things work
as people pass
she no longer lies on grass
shes covered in dirt.
poem by Daniel McCann
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Hold On Lynette The Horses Are Coming
Lynette was a beautiful baby
A true joy to her ma and pa
Free from oriningal sin she was
The whole family was in awe
She was loved loved loved
She was loved loved loved
One day she woke with fever
There was snow and wind and cold
The car was stuck at the end of the drive
To the doctor they could not go
She was loved loved loved
She was loved loved loved
Quick hook-up the team and the sleigh
By horse she'll surely make it
Hold on Lynette the horses are coming
Let's take some time to say how much we love you
She was loved loved loved
She was loved loved loved
Manes a flyin' tales a whippin'
The horse's plowed right through
Muscles a bulgin' and hides a sweating
Let's take some time to say how much we love you
She was loved loved loved
She was loved loved loved
Well by horse they surely made it
By horse they surely did
Just in time to tell them
There was nothing they could do for her
She was loved loved loved
She was loved loved loved
She was loved loved loved
She was loved loved loved
Well, for all those ma's and pa's out there
Who've lost their little ones
This songs not about a child dying
It's of a parent's love
One day on earth is just the same
as one year or fifty or a hundred
The only difference my friends
Is in the love you been giving and receiving
Love love love
Love love love
Love love love
Love love love
Hold on Lynette the horses are coming
Let's take some time to say how much we love you
poem by Atty Davis
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I once did love
I onced loved a girl
O her eyes as fair as the sun
I onced loved this girl
Whose voice laid me to rest
But this girl was exposed
Exposed to life
That Is when I onced loved a woman.
A woman with a heart
But the woman had died
Now I must part
I onced loved lady
She was different from the woman
O her looks were so great
But life consumes everything we belive that is great
poem by Nicholas Casillas
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