The Sea
The sea, becalmed – a placid, tranquil lake,
But vast – a mirror stretched from land to sky,
Reflecting both – a giant, languid eye...
The sea, now rippled by a rising breeze –
A woman, wakened by her lover's tease,
Aroused, with moon reflected in the tide...
The sea, in fury – thrashing in the throes
Of passions roused – and thrusting for release,
By spasms rocked – towards her bless-ed ease...
sjanah@aol.com
2012 November 5th, Mon.
Brooklyn
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Woman
A woman's told that she's
the weaker sex,
For she can be the size of
half a man;
Yet all, a man can do, a
woman can.
And she gives birth, as
only she can do,
In nature grounded, tied
to sea and moon,
Connected to the earth, as
man is not.
As boats may sail upon an
ocean wide,
So men may float upon the
surging tide
Of woman, roused to
tempest in her deep.
And as a woman may, to
some appear,
So, to sailors, does the
ocean seem.
What lends us life, can
also that redeem...
As Durga
rides the lion, slays the demon,
And Kali
strides on Shiva, so does woman
Conquer man, when she
connects with earth.
And men must turn to gods
residing high,
On mountain top or
watching from the sky,
As they are torn by fear
and by desire...
And when the women copy
now the men,
And so wear pants, while
men do not wear skirts,
They only copy weakness –
that which hurts.
For man is insecure and
torn from earth.
The weaker sex is he,
who's not at ease.
So men make war – as
women wait for peace.
sjanah@aol.com
2012 November 6th, Tue.
2012 November 6th, Tue.
Brooklyn
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