in the face of gathering dusk

another version of my poem "howl"

in the face of gathering dusk

and the chill of diminishing time,

I find that I want to rail and rant

at the god who proved to be a rank misogynist.

as men grow older, silver appears

on their temples as a graceful hint,

and friendly laugh lines gather

at the corners of their eyes.

they have dignity, they have pride.

and to whom, I cry, did that same god

grant free will?  certainly not the woman.

no, she, he chose to curse.

gravity sucks at our vitality.

we suffer thinning hair, baggy eyes,

doubling chins, widow’s humps,

sagging breasts and horrid whiskers

that must be plucked.

I have read the gentle advice

given by men:

accept your ageing gracefully;

don’t paint your face garishly

or wear a young girl’s clothes.

I do not wear time easily.

it burdens me

and embitters me.

we were raised to believe in Prince Charming

and Tinkerbelle and true love,

when in truth, what lay before us

was dirty dishes, disappointment,

tragedy and monotony.

woman has been relegated

to an inferior rank

since the dawn of time.

and god’s cruel joke

keeps the wound raw.

 

 

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i have seen many women who have aged much better than the men they were with...but i guess it is always scary to think of not growing old gracefully...and we do wonder if it is God's cruel joke and he just laughs at our vanity.

your poetry is so engaging...

your themes are about the everyday fears and joys...and you make them so poetic in delivery.

[annie lee]

Thank you so much for your kind words.