One Woman's History
'The maiden free, the maiden wed.
Can never, never be the same,
A new life springs from out the dead.
And with the speaking of a name-
A breath upon the marriage bed,
She finds herself a something new.
'Where lay the shallows of the maid
No plummet line the wife can sound;
Where round the sunny islands played
The pulses of the great profound
Lies low the treacherous everglade.
'A wife is like an unknown sea,
Least known to him who thinks he knows
Where all the shores of Promise be,
And where the islands of Repose-
And where the rocks that he must flee.'
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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When a Merry Maiden Marries
When a merry maiden marries,
Sorrow goes and pleasure tarries;
Every sound becomes a song,
All is right and nothing's wrong!
From to-day and ever after
Let your tears be tears of laughter -
Every sigh that finds a vent
Be a sigh of sweet content!
When you marry merry maiden,
Then the air with love is laden;
Every flower is a rose,
Every goose becomes a swan,
Every kind of trouble goes
Where the last year's snows have gone;
Sunlight takes the place of shade
When you marry merry maid!
When a merry maiden marries
Sorrow goes and pleasure tarries;
Every sound becomes a song,
All is right, and nothing's wrong.
Gnawing Care and aching Sorrow,
Get ye gone until to-morrow;
Jealousies in grim array,
Ye are things of yesterday!
When you marry merry maiden,
Then the air with joy is laden;
All the corners of the earth
Ring with music sweetly played,
Worry is melodious mirth,
Grief is joy in masquerade;
Sullen night is laughing day -
All the year is merry May!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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The Price Of Dead Love
His marriage is over but he has no tears
For the woman he was married to for just over two years
Though he miss his baby daughter when he comes home from work at night
In his marriage she was his one source of delight.
She is with his ex wife her mother who lives with her new man
And for him in her life his ex has only one plan
That he pay his alimony to her on Friday of every week
They no longer have common ground on which to speak.
On their wedding day he thought 'twould be for life
He was so in love with his beautiful wife
But just after two years of marriage love between them is dead
That the ways of love can be fickle no truer words said.
That his ex wife has left him for another he finds that as okay
But he misses his baby daughter when he comes home from work every day
That life has it's ups and downs it's always been this way
And the price of dead love it can be high to pay.
poem by Francis Duggan
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On the Death of a Louse
A Treacherous Thug
Hid under a Rug
And drank Malt Liquor
From a Pewter Mug.
He was Waiting for
The Wife of the House
To Watch him Beat Out
The Brains of a Louse-
Her Two-timing Spouse!
The Husband Walked In-
And then the Wife-
Who Watched the Treacherous Thug
Liquidate her Husband's Life.
After the Murdering was Done
The Treacherous Thug had to Run
Because the Wife pulled out an Enormous Gun
With which she Peppered the Treacherous Thug's...
BUN!
poem by M.L. Squier
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Wife- better half of life
Wife is the better half of life
Give wife love affection as soul-mate
Wife is not glorified maid as said
Wife do not want money salary honorarium
Do not make hulla gulla and do not beat drum.
Mian bibi relationship should not be commercialized
Third party intervention in family relation vandalized.
Wife is not a domestic labourer
Wife is backbone of the family
The maile stone of the family
Wife is the torchlight of the family
Wife is the colorful star
Do no put any question to her.
Wife is there to give everything
Wife is not to take anything in return
Wife is the goddess.
Only mad man can say wife is a domestic servant
Make wife a wife life-partner better half
And enjoy life freely.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Ah Me!
When maiden loves, she sits and sighs,
She wanders to and fro;
Unbidden tear-drops fill her eyes,
And to all questions she replies,
With a sad heigho!
'Tis but a little word - "heigho!"
So soft, 'tis scarcely heard - "heigho!"
An idle breath -
Yet life and death
May hang upon a maid's "heigho!"
When maiden loves, she mopes apart,
As owl mopes on a tree;
Although she keenly feels the smart,
She cannot tell what ails her heart,
With its sad "Ah me!"
'Tis but a foolish sigh - "Ah me!"
Born but to droop and die - "Ah me!"
Yet all the sense
Of eloquence
Lies hidden in a maid's "Ah me!"
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Invitation To Eternity
Say, wilt thou go with me, sweet maid,
Say, maiden, wilt thou go with me
Through the valley-depths of shade,
Of bright and dark obscurity;
Where the path has lost its way,
Where the sun forgets the day,
Where there's nor light nor life to see,
Sweet maiden, wilt thou go with me?
Where stones will turn to flooding streams,
Where plains will rise like ocean's waves,
Where life will fade like visioned dreams
And darkness darken into caves,
Say, maiden, wilt thou go with me
Through this sad non-identity
Where parents live and are forgot,
And sisters live and know us not?
Say, maiden, wilt thou go with me
In this strange death of life to be,
To live in death and be the same,
Without this life or home or name,
At once to be and not to be--
That was and is not--yet to see
Things pass like shadows, and the sky
Above, below, around us lie?
The land of shadows wilt thou trace,
Nor look nor know each other's face;
The present marred with reason gone,
And past and present both as one?
Say, maiden, can thy life be led
To join the living and the dead?
Then trace thy footsteps on with me:
We are wed to one eternity.
poem by John Clare
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Island
Islands call out to me like the highlands that I always see in my dreams of home,
I am never alone when I'm there.
Islands, like so many dreams, are like canyons, but off the main stream.
And there's no one there, the dreamer is always alone.
And the mighty blue ocean keeps rolling on every shore, like the spirit that binds us together,
we are so much more than islands.
Islands belong to the sea like the dark sands of my memory.
When the morning comes they are stepping-stones to the sun.
And the mighty blue ocean keeps rolling on every shore, like the spirit that binds us together,
we are so much more than islands, islands.
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Outward Bound
OUT upon the unknown deep,
Where the unheard oceans sound,
Where the unseen islands sleep,--
Outward bound.
Following towards the silent west
O'er the horizon's curved rim,--
Or to islands of the blest,
--He with me and I with him--
Outward bound.
Nothing but a speck we seem
In the waste of waters round,
Floating, floating like a dream,--
Outward bound.
But within that tiny speck
Two brave hearts with one accord
Past all tumult, grief, and wreck,
Look up calm,--and praise the Lord,--
Outward bound.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Nightfall
Once upon these rocks
Sat a maiden glowing
Hair tossing wildly
In the wind, just flowing
But lights grew dimmer
With the sun that's setting
The sky turned greyish
And night started falling.
Never was a night so dreary
As before, it had been dreamy
When the angels refrained looking
At the maiden sadly weeping.
Yes, upon those rocks
A maiden, eyes glowing
Burning much redder
Than the sun that's setting
Waits for the darkness
Now completely falling.
.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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Who is a wife?
Who is a wife?
Who can be a virtuous wife?
Who is a wife?
Who can stand the strife
To be a wife?
There is a woman
And there is a wife
Any one can be a woman
But not any one can be a wife
A wife will stand for her pride
A woman will always want a ride
A wife will say
“we ‘ll have a say”
A woman will say
“I ‘ld have a say”
A wife will say
“WE bought you those”
A woman will say
“Mom bought you those”
A wife would say
“We share the bills”
A woman would say
“I share the bills”
A wife cooks what “we” like
A woman cooks what “I” like.
A wife loves unconditionally
A woman loves conditionally
A wife always stands by…
A woman sometimes stands by…
A wife thinks about “us”
A woman thinks about “me”
A wife supports the plans
A woman plans the supports
A wife keeps the relationship
A woman snubs the relationship
A WIFE IS OPPOSITE OF A WOMAN
Who then is a wife?
Amidst all my strife
I‘ve found a darling wife
You too can, if you also tried.
poem by Jr. J.Lakie Kollie
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An Invite, to Eternity
Wilt thou go with me, sweet maid,
Say, maiden, wilt thou go with me
Through the valley-depths of shade,
Of night and dark obscurity;
Where the path has lost its way,
Where the sun forgets the day,
Where there's nor life nor light to see,
Sweet maiden, wilt thou go with me!
Where stones will turn to flooding streams,
Where plains will rise like ocean waves,
Where life will fade like visioned dreams
And mountains darken into caves,
Say, maiden, wilt thou go with me
Through this sad non-identity,
Where parents live and are forgot,
And sisters live and know us not!
Say, maiden; wilt thou go with me
In this strange death of life to be,
To live in death and be the same,
Without this life or home or name,
At once to be and not to be -
That was and is not -yet to see
Things pass like shadows, and the sky
Above, below, around us lie?
poem by John Clare
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A Countryman's Wooing
THE MAIDEN.
How fell sage Helen? through a swain like thee.
DAPHNIS.
Nay the true Helen's just now kissing me.
THE MAIDEN.
Satyr, ne'er boast: 'what's idler than a kiss?'
DAPHNIS.
Yet in such pleasant idling there is bliss.
THE MAIDEN.
I'll wash my mouth: where go thy kisses then?
DAPHNIS.
Wash, and return it-to be kissed again.
THE MAIDEN.
Go kiss your oxen, and not unwed maids.
DAPHNIS.
Ne'er boast; for beauty is a dream that fades.
THE MAIDEN.
Past grapes are grapes: dead roses keep their smell.
DAPHNIS.
Come to yon olives: I have a tale to tell.
THE MAIDEN.
Not I: you fooled me with smooth words before.
DAPHNIS.
Come to yon elms, and hear me pipe once more.
THE MAIDEN.
Pipe to yourself: your piping makes me cry.
DAPHNIS.
A maid, and flout the Paphian? Fie, oh fie!
THE MAIDEN.
She's naught to me, if Artemis' favour last.
DAPHNIS.
Hush, ere she smite you and entrap you fast.
THE MAIDEN.
And let her smite me, trap me as she will!
DAPHNIS.
Your Artemis shall be your saviour still?
THE MAIDEN.
Unhand me! What, again? I'll tear your lip.
DAPHNIS.
Can you, could damsel e'er, give Love the slip?
THE MAIDEN.
You are his bondslave, but not I by Pan!
DAPHNIS.
I doubt he'll give thee to a worser man.
THE MAIDEN.
Many have wooed me, but I fancied none.
DAPHNIS.
Till among many came the destined one.
THE MAIDEN.
Wedlock is woe. Dear lad, what can I do?
DAPHNIS.
Woe it is not, but joy and dancing too.
THE MAIDEN.
Wives dread their husbands: so I've heard it said.
DAPHNIS.
Nay, they rule o'er them. What does woman dread?
THE MAIDEN.
Then children-Eileithya's dart is keen.
DAPHNIS.
But the deliverer, Artemis, is your queen.
THE MAIDEN.
And bearing children all our grace destroys.
DAPHNIS.
Bear them and shine more lustrous in your boys.
THE MAIDEN.
Should I say yea, what dower awaits me then?
DAPHNIS.
Thine are my cattle, thine this glade and glen.
THE MAIDEN.
Swear not to wed, then leave me in my woe?
DAPHNIS.
Not I by Pan, though thou should'st bid me go.
THE MAIDEN.
And shall a cot be mine, with farm and fold!
DAPHNIS.
Thy cot's half-built, fair wethers range this wold.
THE MAIDEN.
What, what to my old father must I say?
DAPHNIS.
Soon as he hears my name he'll not say nay.
THE MAIDEN.
Speak it: by e'en a name we're oft beguiled.
DAPHNIS.
I'm Daphnis, Lycid's and Nomaea's child.
THE MAIDEN.
Well-born indeed: and not less so am I.
DAPHNIS.
I know-Menalcas' daughter may look high.
THE MAIDEN.
That grove, where stands your sheepfold, shew me please.
DAPHNIS.
Nay look, how green, how tall my cypress-trees.
THE MAIDEN.
Graze, goats: I go to learn the herdsman's trade.
DAPHNIS.
Feed, bulls: I shew my copses to my maid.
THE MAIDEN.
Satyr, what mean you? You presume o'ermuch.
DAPHNIS.
This waist is round, and pleasant to the touch.
THE MAIDEN.
By Pan, I'm like to swoon! Unhand me pray!
DAPHNIS.
Why be so timorous? Pretty coward, stay.
THE MAIDEN.
This bank is wet: you've soiled my pretty gown.
DAPHNIS.
See, a soft fleece to guard it I put down.
THE MAIDEN.
And you've purloined my sash. What can this mean?
DAPHNIS.
This sash I'll offer to the Paphian queen.
THE MAIDEN.
Stay, miscreant-some one comes-I heard a noise.
DAPHNIS.
'Tis but the green trees whispering of our joys.
THE MAIDEN.
You've torn my plaidie, and I am half unclad.
DAPHNIS.
Anon I'll give thee a yet ampler plaid.
THE MAIDEN.
Generous just now, you'll one day grudge me bread.
DAPHNIS.
Ah! for thy sake my life-blood I could shed.
THE MAIDEN.
Artemis, forgive! Thy eremite breaks her vow.
DAPHNIS.
Love, and Love's mother, claim a calf and cow.
THE MAIDEN.
A woman I depart, my girlhood o'er.
DAPHNIS.
Be wife, be mother; but a girl no more.
Thus interchanging whispered talk the pair,
Their faces all aglow, long lingered there.
At length the hour arrived when they must part.
With downcast eyes, but sunshine in her heart,
She went to tend her flock; while Daphnis ran
Back to his herded bulls, a happy man.
poem by Theocritus
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Maiden June.....
Within midst of time n' bloom,
Being with the fair Maiden June,
Whinst of bells of unity rings,
An' the voice of young love sings,
There at mid-point fullness year,
An' Mays' flowers overseer,
I being at mid-point of life,
Shalt take of thee, as a wife,
For with each mornin' shalt there be,
Rise of Loves' intensity,
Finds of rest on grassy knoll,
An' with beach of sands, we shalt stroll,
As red-breast an' sparrow fills air
An' the warming of skin so fair,
Whilst attire shalt be next of nil,
Of this I shalt take my fill,
Fair Maiden June, let us join,
An' of season not disappoint,
Nor of season waste not a day,
Of said time of fun n' play,
Maiden June, With thee I shalt dance,
Thou art thy summers' romance,
Take heed to this simple truth,
Thou doth impart eternal youth......
poem by Geoff Warden
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Pan liveth
They told me once that Pan was dead,
And so, in sooth, I thought him;
For vainly where the streamlets led
Through flowery meads I sought him--
Nor in his dewy pasture bed
Nor in the grove I caught him.
"Tell me," 'twas so my clamor ran--
"Tell me, oh, where is Pan?"
But, once, as on my pipe I played
A requiem sad and tender,
Lo, thither came a shepherd-maid--
Full comely she and slender!
I were indeed a churlish blade
With wailings to offend 'er--
For, surely, wooing's sweeter than
A mourning over Pan!
So, presently, whiles I did scan
That shepherd-maiden pretty,
And heard her accents, I began
To pipe a cheerful ditty;
And so, betimes, forgot old Pan
Whose death had waked my pity;
So--so did Love undo the man
Who sought and pined for Pan!
He was not dead! I found him there--
The Pan that I was after!
Caught in that maiden's tangling hair,
Drunk with her song and laughter!
I doubt if there be otherwhere
A merrier god or dafter--
Nay, nor a mortal kindlier than
Is this same dear old Pan!
Beside me, as my pipe I play,
My shepherdess is lying,
While here and there her lambkins stray
As sunny hours go flying;
They look like me--those lambs--they say,
And that I'm not denying!
And for that sturdy, romping clan,
All glory be to Pan!
Pan is not dead, O sweetheart mine!
It is to hear his voices
In every note and every line
Wherein the heart rejoices!
He liveth in that sacred shrine
That Love's first, holiest choice is!
So pipe, my pipe, while still you can,
Sweet songs in praise of Pan!
poem by Eugene Field
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Men On Islands
CAN it be that never more
Men will grow on Islands?
Ithaka and Eriskey,
Iceland and Tahiti!
Must the engines he has forged
Raven so for spaces
That the Islands dwindle down,
Dwindle down!
Pots that shelve the tap-root's growth?
Must it be that never more
Men will flower on Islands?
Crete and Corsica, Mitylene,
Aran and lona!
poem by Padraic Colum
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One Morning In May
One morning, one morning, one morning in may
I spied a young couple, they were making their way
One was a maiden so bright and so fair
And the other was a soldier and a brave volunteer
Good morning, good morning, good morning said he
And where are you going my pretty lady
Im goig out a walkin on the banks of the sea
Just to see the waters gliding hear the nightingale sing
Now they had not been standing but a minute or two
And out of his knapsack a fiddle he drew
And the tune that he played made the valleys all ring
Oh hark cried the maiden hear the nightingale sing
Oh maiden fair maiden tis time to give oer
Oh no kind soldier please play one tune more
For Id rather hear your fiddle at the touch of one string
Than to see the waters gliding hear the nightingale sing
Oh soldier kind soldier will you marry me
Oh no pretty maiden that never shall be
Ive a wife in london and children twice three
Two wives and the armys too many for me
Well Ill go back to london and Ill stay there for a year
Its often that Ill think of you my little dear
And if ever I return it will be in the spring
Just to see the waters gliding hear the nightingale sing
To see the waters gliding hear the nightingale sing
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Women In Islam
How do women fit into islam? What is their fate?
This has been the subject of many a debate
‘for the believing men and women, is a great reward’
this is from surah al azaab, the words of our Lord
it can be seen from reading the holy Quran
that a woman has some privilege over a man
praying is exempted during menstruation
here islam gives women consideration
a woman after marriage becomes a wife
for nine long months she carries new life
during childbirth she is exempted to fast
islam is against the burying of girls in the past
they can pray at the mosque or even at home
they may marry or divorce, its their choice, their own
after marriage she can retain her old maiden name
and is rewarded for treating all her offspring the same
once they are married they should live pious lives
‘and the best men are those who are best to their wives’
islam shows equality my sisters and brothers
don’t forget paradise lies at the feet of your mothers
women in the UK had property rights from 1938
this right was given by islam,14 centuries to date
in the UK, women could vote from 1918
this was stated 1400 years ago in islam our deen
women can work and lead a happily married life
but shouldn’t neglect her role as mother and wife
a woman for her child’s upbringing, deserves her credit
islam also gives a woman the right to inherit
a woman’s status in islam, we should never neglect
in islam they are favoured and deserve their respect
poem by Readnow 1978
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A Summer's Night
THE night is dewy as a maiden's mouth,
The skies are bright as are a maiden's eyes,
Soft as a maiden's breath the wind that flies
Up from the perfumed bosom of the South.
Like sentinels, the pines stand in the park;
And hither hastening, like rakes that roam,
With lamps to light their wayward footsteps home,
The fireflies come stagg'ring down the dark.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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In Golden Gate Park. for Jim and thanks to Lawrence
The older couple who've set down
their folding chairs, a blanket, lunchbox
not too far from the old Lincoln
inhabit three islands of peace
which by the time we're their age
we'll know perhaps to envy:
his peace, and hers, and theirs:
neither got high grades, but
they're wise enough to know
after all those years together
those three islands; watch them with discretion
and join them if you can across the years;
in that third island which is won
from two islands neatly cropped.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Thief Of Hearts
He’s real good looking and dresses real slick
He’s an older man looking for a pretty young chick
He tells everyone he’s single and new in town
Don’t believe the pretty words, he’s been around
He tell you he’s not married and so lonely now
With you it was love at first sight, doesn’t know how
He will promise you the moon and pledge his love for life
He will forget to tell you, back home he has a wife
Flowers and candy, so romantic he will be
He might even serenade you and get down on one knee
He makes frequent trips back to his hometown
He’ll say to see the kids, can’t let them down
He won’t be around for a holiday or birthday
Can’t let his wife know that he will betray
She thinks she’s got a wonderful marriage to him
She doesn’t know he came home only on a whim
He’s a thief of hearts, you will be his prey
He won’t be there when you need him anyway
You’ll be his plaything when he has time to burn
He’ll be with his wife and kids with the money he earns!
poem by Donna Nimmo
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