ESSAY ON WOE-MAN

My take on An essay on Man by Alexander Pope

Look within thyself, in your dream

You will hear a woman scream;

The shrill voice of her, like a knife,

Can be of your mother, sister or wife,

Yes, listen close, and you will know,

She lives in winter, and eats the snow,

What is she saying, would you care to wonder,

The chivalry to smile even as she surrender,

Oh! No, she may be a close box of magic,

But, she had witnessed deeds very tragic,

From the moment she got wise, to the moment she will die,

A dread ‘companies her soul, she even don’t know why,

The fear is of the unknown, the uncertain fate,

She only knew at all; what is her true state,

She is a ‘he’ with the woes and worries of the she,

She is the man, no man can ever possibly be.

Her misery vast, like the sky and those stars,

May be they are from Venus & men are from Mars,

But we all know, Venus is more close to the sun,

And Mars may be bloodied, but never feels that burn,

She lives all her life, for the sake of the souls,

She smile in tears, playing her complicated roles,

Born from herself, she is the ultimate mother,

And mother equals God, so do not bother

To solve this riddle, the glorified jest,

Let the soul judge the truth, when in peace men rest.

For these are chaos of the abused, who rose half just to fall,

As thorns of passion pierced the confused souls of them all,

So with staggering steps the stoical ‘she’ did stray,

Crossing life as if came across a wrong way,

She thinks too little yet thinks she thought much,

Delighted with erred reasoning, her ignorance is such

She hangs between; in doubt to love or love more,

Whether in act or rest her love will be there for sure,

Such is the mind, body and soul of the lady,

But sometime these skeptic human act rude and darkly,

But leave,

Placed on the isthmus between death and life giver,

On the middle state of God and mortal where any man would shiver,

Yet mother god smiles in bloody tears,

Giving birth to great men and beast;

These knowing souls moving in weird gears

Cannot be properly understood, or studied, atleast.

Yes, the hand holding the pen belongs to an ignorant man,

But like every man, he too is a woman's son

May be one day, same time, in another life span,

I’ll be granted and will understand the blessing/curse of being a woman.

 

 

Author's Note

Do comment whatever you feel like

Reviews

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Well if you want to hear whatever I felt like after reading this then....
It's an absolute splendid work...you know you've written down something brave for female and I need to be happy as am also one of them!
I've never been through any of Alexander Pope's writing but still if your inspired writing is so good then that must be great...
Lines that you used was each a tribute to the womankind I felt...and the special and specific greatly like thought you expressed at the last was amazing being of you...Great read...thanks for sharing☺!