For we know it is with relief
That such a woman would eventually sigh
Rather than cry
When he thankfully said goodbye
For whether or not
He let her down and told her a lie
The waste of her precious time
Would one day have to come to a stop
Whilst he ran around and deserted her
The question is not how did she feel
Nor how much did he hurt her
But of her time, blood, sweat and tears,
Exactly how much did the Mr. Steal ?
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Author:
Nile Blue (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 1st, 2022 05:38
- Comment from author about the poem: As extremist right wingers around the world seem set on stealthily sweeping away women’s choice and voice, amidst this continues to exist the theft of their time, not just by the (ignored) patriarchal shadow economy, but by the ignorant so-called ‘partners’ with whom they make the unfortunate mistake of partnering with - a man who was still (merely) a ‘boy’ next door - or someone else - who took off with her life, sense of self and so much more . Perhaps like the Duke Bluebeards of Béla Bartok’s opera Bluebeard’s Castle - men who build what looks like a glorious castle around women only to hide or keep the key from them to the room that contains their more inglorious side - or perhaps like the men who steal women’s ‘seal skins’ (their creative souls) of which Clarissa Pinkola Estés tells us more in her book ‘Women Who Run With The Wolves’. That ‘not all men are like this’ we are tired of hearing. If not all men are like this then which type of men are both advocating and passing these arcane laws to further restrict the already restricted lives of women? Perhaps this is an ode to the false promises made by the Rick Astley’s of this world. Those focus only melodically on how a woman might feel yet fail to realise or acknowledge how much they (whilst they run around and desert her) - actually steal.
- Category: Unclassified
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