The Gypsy Temptress
She, the exotic beauty
Lay wrapped in crimson silk
And Smiles seductively
The sweet fragrance of her expensive perfume
Hangs in the air, thick as velvet
My husband saunters over
Smug that he caught her
She is a secretive lover
To get to her is like catching smoke
She is wild, untameable and will never be broken
She lets my husband think he found her first
Thats how she works her twisted Black Magic
She sits up and gives him a long kiss
And he falls to her feet
Totally at her mercy
She is my husbands obsession
His dark secret
She, the Gypsy Temptress
poem by Waltzing Mouse
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Related quotes
The Real Wife
Teaches her children to love and serve God always
Honors her husband and loves him sacrificially
Engages in learning activities that promote holiness in her
marriage
Redeems and restores her husband when he falls out of grace
Expects her husband to be her teacher, leader, mentor and
counselor
Acknowledges her husband's' foibles but never use them to
belittle him
Loves her husbands and treat him as the king of her earthly
kingdom
Wins her husband's affection and friendship with her 'savoir
faire et vivre'
Initiates special activities that please her husband and boosts
his confidence
Forgives her husbands with no intention to regurgitate past
offenses
Excels in matters of the soul and heart and excite her husbands
with holy living
poem by Mona Joseph
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You're living in paradise
I'm getting tired of hearing your silly complaints.
You're angry because your husband isn't a saint.
Your husband forgets and leaves the toilet seat up and you think this isn't very nice.
You think you have it bad but you're really living in paradise.
Your husband has a few flaws but in my eyes he's great.
When I tell you about some other husbands, he'll be a man who you 'll appreciate.
I've seen husbands who beat and raped their wives and some husbands who even threatened them with guns.
And you complain about the superficial things your husband has done.
Close to where I live, a man killed his wife and then set her on fire.
Be thankful that your life isn't so dire.
These poor women's lives have been completely destroyed.
And you have the nerve to complain because your husband goes out once a week with the boys.
Before you complain about your husband again, maybe you should think twice.
You think you have it bad but you're really living in paradise.
poem by Randy Johnson
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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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Stream of Gaiety Vavroovahana Patra
Wife’s sweet conversation is an ocean of merriement;
Is a brook of enchantment.
In despair husband is happy with her consolation;
Kisses, congratulates, frees tension.
Husband derives profound peace with embracement;
She is tranquil as the distant firmament.
Her innocence allures day and night;
She is an ever flowing rivulet of delight.
Wife is a Heavenly Beauty;
In solitude provides delight.
Is the Queen of the night;
The kiss is a stream of gaiety.
Wife plays with passion;
Is the creator of creation.
Is a good advisor;
Is the sweet lovely mother.
Wife’s vermillion is the symbol of chastity;
In husband’s eyes she is a Deith.
On Earth she is a peerless Beauty;
In husbands lap lives with delight.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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The Sin
I found him looking into my eyes
I blushed & smiled
But no romance can ever fall upon
I married the best man
I found myself falling for him
No he isnt my husband
He is the dark stranger
who came right out of my dreams
I stayed away from trouble
Stayed away from him..
It shouldn't hurt me but it did
Whereever I went My Heart
My Broken heart sought for him
Longed to love
To be loved
It wasn't long before - I
surrendered myself
Body Heart and Soul - To
this man of my dreams
The best daughter ever- She
sinned & hurt us through
How did she manage to sin - When
Her husband loves her through
Always thought she was perfect
Too good to be true - Maybe
he used black magic - To
swipe her off her feet
For my daughter is not the one
To loose us to the devil - I
will fight till I die to
make sure my daughter never
lives with the devilish man
I love him - I plead
Just let me go
I will never be happy
Living so far away
Now that I ve seen love
Now that I ve seen passion
How do I let it go
When I see that I can be Happy
Like never ever before
Let me go people
Let me go to my man
Let me free
Let me love & be loved
By the man of my dreams....
Woman Vavroovahana Patra
Woman is a Ganga on Earth;
Is a rivulet of mirth.
Ganga mingles with Ocean enthusiastically;
Derives salvation delightfully.
Husband’s kiss, embracement is woman’s delight;
With peace she surrenders on the feet of Almighty.
The sweet souls derive peace and pleasure;
Are lovely creatures in the lap of Nature.
The new creation smiles delightfully;
Both praise God peacefully.
Woman is a Creator;
Is lovely family’s operator.
Women’s chastity, bravery dazzles in history in golden letters;
They inspire the nation providing pleasure.
Woman is a wonderful creature;
Tranquilises the weary lover.
Woman is respected in the society;
Is a paragon of Beauty.
Her love allures day and night;
Prays for husband on the feet of Almighty.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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At Bay
Wife
Reach out your arms, and hold me close and fast.
Tell me there are no memories of your past
That mar this love of ours, so great, so vast.
Husband
Some truths are cheapened when too oft averred.
Does not the deed speak louder than the word?
(dear God, that old dream woke again and stirred.)
Wife
As you love me, you never loved before?
Though oft you say it, say it yet once more.
My heart is jealous of those days of yore.
Husband
Sweet wife, dear comrade, mother of my child,
My life is yours by memory undefiled.
(it stirs again, that passion brief and wild.)
Wife
You never knew a happier hour than this?
We two alone, our hearts surcharged with bliss,
Nor other kisses, sweet as my own kiss?
Husband
I was a thirsty field, long parched with drouth;
You were the warm rain, blowing from the south.
(But, ah, the crimson madness of her mouth!)
Wife
You would not, if you could, go down life’s track
For just one little moment and bring back
Some vanished rapture that you miss or lack?
Husband
I am content. You are my life, my all.
(One burning hour, but one, could I recall;
God, how men lie when driven to the wall!)
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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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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News Report
Only one person survived the attack,
when three black men with machineguns
killed the farmer, screaming loudly: “come here you bitch, ”
bursting into the house, kicking her, stripping her clothes off
and they acted as if totally insane.
On the floor she was tied up tightly
where they raped her, shouting: “you Boor whore.”
In the hospital she cried without end,
could hardly face reporters for the interview,
are without her possessions, husband and country and feels dirty.
She will never forget the black rapists,
even when praying to God,
as long as the killers still are alive,
there’s something burning in her like festering wounds
and only a grave is left to the honour of her husband,
in thoughts she is again swept away,
it feels as if every black man is watching her,
nothing can be trade for the life of her husband,
she strongly considers selling the farm,
are without her possessions, husband and country and feels dirty.
In her thoughts she lives through it again
with fear for a sexual disease or sores,
at night suddenly get awake shivering,
out of superstition even avoids ladders,
sometimes falls asleep in her pink underwear,
hear branches rustle, a dove cooing,
it feels as if someone wants to silence her,
she wants to hide from the whole world,
totally apathetic feeds the cattle green fodder,
are without her possessions,
husband and country and feels dirty.
l’Envoi
but the community is deeply moved by her,
they want to capture and abduct the criminals,
believe that terrorists are lurking on farms,
but she doesn’t want to mention this matter again,
are without her possessions, husband and country and feels dirty.
poem by Gert Strydom
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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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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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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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Dream: Agatha Christie's Tennis Match
Agatha Christie wrote 6 novels
under an assumed name. In one
of them her character has a dream
that she is playing tennis alone
opposite her husband and his
secret lover. Agatha Chrstie's
first husband was unfaithful to her.
She divorced him and found happiness
with another. Perhaps the dream
helped her to act more quickly to
end the unhappy yoking.
poem by O. Anna Niemus
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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
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The Hostage
Lady: hallo
Kidnapper:
Lady weve just kidnapped your husband
Have $800,000 ready by tomorrow night
And lady no police
Or youll never see your husband alive again
Lady: hallo
I remember standing there so petrified
My hand frozen to the phone
As a strangers words that caught in my ears
And chilled me to the bone
Some dark tragedy had come right home to me
Theyd kidnapped my man and his life was in their hands
He was a hostage, a hostage
His life was at the mercy of their hands
He was a hostage, a hostage
His life depending on their gold demands
Lady: hallo
Kidnapper:
Lady, heres your husband through
To warn not to play any games
Husband:
Hi honey listen Im okay
Just make sure you do whatever they tell you
And whatever you do dont go to the police!
Well I couldnt raise that kinda money fast
So I was left no other choice
So I called the police and they came in fast
Saying leave it up to us
Just do as they told
The ransoms in this bag
Well watch over you
And well have your husband back too
He was a hostage, a hostage
His life was at the mercy of their hands
He was a hostage, a hostage
His life depending on their gold demands
Lady: hallo
Kidnapper:
Listen very carefully lady
Drive out to the abandoned shack on highway 16
Throw the package of money out the window and keep driving
And remember lady no police!
Well my heart was heavy as I made that drive
I was sure something was wrong
I soon found the shack
I threw out the bag and I just kept driving on
Then the shots rang out and turned my car about
On the ground one lay but the other had gotten away
He was a hostage, a hostage
His life was at the mercy of their hands
He was a hostage, a hostage
His life depending on their gold demands
Lady:
Well they found my husband a few days later
Yes, the funerals tomorrow
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Husband Where Are You?
Can you feel the music play? I think about you everyday, husband of mine where are you?
I see you arms around me as, your growing love surrounds me, can you feel it to, husband where are you?
There music in my heart, I don’t know just where to start, the universe has told me my love about you. Husband of mine, when we meet our eye’s won’t turn and our hearts will forever yearn, letting us know we are for each other.
I waited all so long, met the one’s that were all wrong, husband of mine I know your coming for me.
I see your eye’s! I see you smiling! When we make love it all our hearts yearning.
Husband of mine, please come for me I know it time for us to meet, I can even smell the smells around you.. We read the same books yeah, the sprit of the universe surrounds me, the sprit of the universe surrounds you.
The day we meet you will say, I waited day after day, for the softness of your beauty.
Husband of mine you finally found me, Husband of mine your love surrounds me.
poem by Ivy Saldana
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Ollie McGee
Have you seen walking through the village
A man with downcast eyes and haggard face?
That is my husband who, by secret cruelty
never to be told, robbed me of my youth and my beauty;
Till at last, wrinkled and with yellow teeth,
And with broken pride and shameful humility,
I sank into the grave.
But what think you gnaws at my husband's heart?
The face of what I was, the face of what he made me!
These are driving him to the place where I lie.
In death, therefore, I am avenged.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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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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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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You're Beauty's Magic
YOU'RE BEAUTY'S MAGIC
Melvin Banggollay
Your beauty has the magic
That can heal even the sick
With a charm than can warm
and keep me away from harm.
Your smile has the fragrance
of a rose even from a distance
With an aroma that can enchant
anyone that desires to glance.
You do have an angelic face
Wearing sweet smiles that erase
boredom of anyone that gaze
Your beauty that truly amaze.
poem by Melvin Banggollay
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