Woman, Made a Punching Bag of Man
A woman, beaten by the cruel hands of her man
Beaten as she raises her voice to challenge his words
Beaten as she goes out to celebrate her freedom
Beaten as she refuses to do what he orders and wants.
And the battered woman accepts her tragic lot
Bearing the marks of violence on her own body
Longing for golden days of love and romance
Lamenting on her destiny as punching bag of man.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Beaten To The Punch
You say that you can and then you run to get your mummy
And youre almost beaten to the punch
Looking for the man who sold you the dummy
And youre almost beaten to the punch
Laughing at the older guys who say its just as well
Saved by the wedding bell
Almost beaten to the punch
Youre looking for somebody new that you can knock around
You are almost beaten to the punch
If youve got a head for figures then youd better count me out
You were almost beaten to the punch
You pulled the piece but you soon called it love
You go hand in glove
Almost beaten to the punch
Your body speaks much louder than your voice
You let it do the talking so I dont have any choice
Now you find the younger guys are putting up resistance
And youre almost beaten to the punch
You better get out now because youll never go the distance
And youre almost beaten to the punch
Youll find a girl and youll promise her anything
Even a wedding ring
Almost beaten to the punch
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who’ll Wear the Beaten Colours?
Who’ll wear the beaten colours—and cheer the beaten men?
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, till our time comes again?
Where sullen crowds are densest, and fickle as the sea,
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, and wear them home with me?
We closed the bars and gambling dens and voted straight and clean,
Our women walked while motor cars were whirling round the scene,
The Potts Point Vote was one for Greed and Ease and Luxury
With all to hold, and coward gold, and beaten folk are we.
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, with hands and pockets clean?
(I wore the beaten colours since I was seventeen)
I wore them up, and wore them down, Outback and across the sea—
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, and wear them home with me?
We wore them back from Ladysmith to where the peace was signed,
And wore them through the London streets where Jingoes howled behind.
We wore them to the Queen’s Hall, while England yelled “Pro-Boers!”
And sat them over victory while London banged the doors.1
We wore them from Port Arthur round till all sunk in the sea—
(Who’ll wear the white man’s colours, and wear them home with me?)
I’ve worn them through with gentlemen, with work-slaves and alone—
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, boys, and wear them on his own?
There’s one would look with startled eyes and shrink while I caressed,
Came I not with the colours of the conquered on my breast.
And twenty thousand Bushmen would stand with hands behind
And scorn in all their faces for the coward of his kind.
Who’ll wear the beaten colours and raise the voice they drowned—
It may be when we march again, they’ll bear some other sound—
Who’ll pin the beaten colours on and drive the beaten pen—
It may be other steel and ink when we march out again.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Beaten Into Sweetness
Beaten into sweetness.
Like grapes to produce,
A fine wine sipped.
Beaten into sweetness.
To allure and maintain,
A sizable profit held in a firm fist.
And every whiff of it sniffed,
Satisfied to the very last drop.
Beaten into sweetness.
Although a sadness carried,
Inside would not stop!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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So Tired
Scent on a postcard
A memory left behind
Warm hand, cool look but no time...
Winsome lose some
Hung up on old flame
My heart depends on fire
So who am I to make demands on love?
...relax and walk on by
So tired
So tired
Beaten like a drum
So tired
Living life alone
So tired
Beaten like a drum
Kiss the right faces
And tap the party line
Short measure of cheap skate pleasure
Easier said than done
Sip the night water
But not too drunk to say
Well just who am I to ever hope to love you?
Id turn and shy away
So tired
So tired
Beaten like a drum
So tired
Living life alone
So tired
Beaten like a drum
Once upon a bed
You said you loved me
Once upon a bed
Those eyes of blue
Now what am I supposed to do?
So tired -
So tired
Beaten like a drum
So tired
Live my life alone, so alone
Once upon a bed
You said you loved me
Once upon a bed
Those eyes of blue
And what am I to rhyme with you?
Now I lie alone and so defenceless
Dream of love in sunny daze with you
So tired...
song performed by by Haircut 100
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We are beaten, we will make no bones about it; but we are not too badly beaten still to fight.
quote by James Larkin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A chief is a man who assumes responsibility. He says ""I was beaten,"" he does not say ""My men were beaten"".
quote by Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He who is not beaten by the sun or the rain, will eventually be beaten by the hunger.
One may as well be well beaten as badly beaten.
W.w.j.d.
I saw a man today
he was dirty and cold
W.W.J.D.
There was a child on the street
she was beaten and scared
W.W.J.D.
A woman was sitting in her car
hurt and crying
W.W.J.D.
We have all forgotten how to be human
we no longer feel sympathy
have we forgotten what a man did for us
He was beaten, bloody, and hurt
but He carried His cross
He took away our sins
so the next time you see someone
be they hurt, scared, hungry, or cold
just for an instant think
W.W.J.D.
poem by Sierra Morrow
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The Glory Of A Woman...
The Tenderness Of A Woman
Is In The Strength Of Her Hands
Her Power To Touch
And Take Care Of Her Man
The Gentleness Of A Woman
Is In Her Character, To Care
And Her Courage To Bear
All Pains, As A Pair
The Winsomeness Of A Woman
Is In Her Choice To Understand
And A Support Source To Plan
And Her Voice, Cheering, ‘We Can’
The Sweetness Of A Woman
Is In Her Secure Embrace
Her Fragrance, Form, and Face
And Her Hunger, For His Taste
But, The Weakness Of A Woman
… Is That Her Heart, Is Beaten
Surrenders Body and Soul Even
Before His May Weaken
She Stays The Course To Withstand
The Mighty Heart Of A Man
Patience, Like Hour-Glass Sand
Is The Female Force Of A Woman
The Crowning Glory Of A Woman
Is Tresses, Flowing Like Rain Above
But, The Glorious Joy Of A Woman
Is Knowing, She Is Loved …
The Completeness… Of A Woman
Written & ©: 2/22/10
By: The MoonBee
poem by MoonBee Canady
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Pitiful
as I recall when my stomach turned
and I was hiding away from myself
away from you
like nothing but something was terribly wrong
and I admit that I was only waiting for the right time (right time)
right moment for you to look away
though you never did I pretended for a while
so I could walk where I don't belong
I remember every word you said
come back in time come back
and I remember I was too beaten
pitiful so pitiful
but I know as they hammered those nails
into your beautiful hands
your eyes they tried to search for mine
but I look away
now your eyes are the only thing that can save me
I'm still afraid of them piercin'
you break into my prison
just pretended for a while
my soul is sad and I walk away
I remember every word you said
come back in time come back
and I remember I was too beaten
pitiful so pitiful
pitiful
pitiful
pitiful
pitiful
so pitiful
and I remember every word you said
but this time I won't look away
and I remember every word you said
and this time I won't look away
and I remember every word you said
come back in time come back
and I remember I was so beaten
pitiful so pitiful
and I remember every word you said (pitiful)
come back in time come back (pitiful)
and I remember I was too beaten (pitiful)
pitiful so pitiful
song performed by by Blindside from Silence
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The New Moon
Day, you have bruised and beaten me,
As rain beats down the bright, proud sea,
Beaten my body, bruised my soul,
Left me nothing lovely or whole --
Yet I have wrested a gift from you,
Day that dies in dusky blue:
For suddenly over the factories
I saw a moon in the cloudy seas --
A wisp of beauty all alone
In a world as hard and gray as stone --
Oh who could be bitter and want to die
When a maiden moon wakes up in the sky?
poem by Sara Teasdale
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Having been to Europe and working and traveling there, the restaurants my wife and I remember were always off the beaten trail restaurants. So I tried to seek a little 'off the beaten trail,' but cool area.
quote by Todd English
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Remember I told you 2
What the heck is it with you?
Why cant you see things like I do?
I see it all so very clear.
Its all clearer by the day.
Why cant you just let me go?
I cant live my life any more.
All I can do is think of my new forfound end.
Please just let me go now
Im sick and tired of fighting.
The past has beaten me
But then it had beaten me from the start.
So please please let me go
I ve nothing left to give
I cant forgive.
So when you find me cold and stiff.
Just remember I told you
I told you Id do it
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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I Dont Even Know Their Names!
his spirit left his body,
and walked through the hells.
a firm voice spoke:
'keep your eyes open,
look, and see! '
he saw dark skinned children,
their bodies frail and thin,
their features carved with hunger.
he saw women and children,
running from the bombs,
young men gunned down,
in the streets.
he saw the homeless family,
sleeping in a beaten old car,
hoping no one would come
to make them move.
he saw the young addict shaking,
the young woman helpless,
her baby crying in the bare apartment.
he saw the young man sent to prison,
trying to hide his fear,
a fear so strong they
could smell it on him!
he saw the woman who'd been beaten,
the man jobless and angry.
he saw millions of Native Americans,
slaughtered, and left for the crows.
he saw the old couple hungry,
in their apartment with no lights,
and no heat in the dead of winter...
'i cant take it any more,
what has this got to do with me?
i dont even know their names! '
'their names are anybody, and everybody...
they are why you must return.
they are your children, your
brothers and sisters, your father
and your mother...
they are your responsibility!
you must return to finish the work! '
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Do It
Im walkin downtown
No lookin around
cause Im a fool and a half
Blessed and beaten by love
I walk in the direction
But then I stop the action
cause when I try to do it
My heart is gone, I blew it
Do it...do it...
Im going on and on, just on and on
Just walkin, talkin, not a winner at all
Im boozing, losing, getting out of control
She dances hip-hop, shes on the top
Im still a fool and a half, blessed and beaten by love
Do it...do it...
Im walkin back home
Keep lookin around
Still a fool and a half
Blessed and beaten by love
She walks in my direction
Why dont she start the action
I got no guts to do it
And then shes gone, I blew it
Do it...do it...
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do It
Im walkin downtown
No lookin around
cause Im a fool and a half
Blessed and beaten by love
I walk in the direction
But then I stop the action
cause when I try to do it
My heart is gone, I blew it
Do it...do it...
Im going on and on, just on and on
Just walkin, talkin, not a winner at all
Im boozing, losing, getting out of control
She dances hip-hop, shes on the top
Im still a fool and a half, blessed and beaten by love
Do it...do it...
Im walkin back home
Keep lookin around
Still a fool and a half
Blessed and beaten by love
She walks in my direction
Why dont she start the action
I got no guts to do it
And then shes gone, I blew it
Do it...do it...
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whose love is more intense?
One stole a woman he loved
And was beaten to death.
Another one lost a woman
He loved and was pining.
Whose love is more intense?
22.06.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I Also Rise (Homage to Maya Angelou)
I have been used, abused, mistreated, and even overheated, but still I also rise
I have been denied, compromised, and even ostracized, but yet I still also rise
I have been called outdated, jaded, and mutilated, but here I still also rise
I have been hated, mentally castrated, looted, and even been uprooted, but still I also rise
I have been scorned, adorned, and reborn, but yet I still also rise
I have been beaten up, beaten down, and almost ended up underground but yet I also still rise
I have been cheated on, crapped on, and walked on but yet I still also rise
I have been treat as a fool, used as a tool, treated so cruel, but yet I still seem to also rise
I have been neglected, disrespected, rejected, and yes I also rise
I have been a token, my heart has broken, I’ve misspoken, and I still also rise
I have been accused, bruised, refused, confused, and even reused, but I still also rise
I have been pushed to the side, kicked in the backside, been steamed dried, and yes I even cried, but yet I still also rise
I have been slapped in the face, can’t return to my birthplace, entered foreign airspace, and felt a woman’s warm embrace, yet I still also rise
I have been the victim of oppression, obsession, the recession, and a downward transgression but here I still also rise
I have been battered, life shattered, lost everything that mattered, yet I still also rise
I have felt the hurt, treated like dirt, forgetting to stay alert, and for all that it is worth I still will also rise
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Money is best when counted, a woman is best when beaten.