Morning after morning, days run by
You hear him whistle all day long
Tunes of wrestling songs of his youth
When he was the champion of men
Afternoon after afternoon, he snores
Sleeping on the mat in the veranda
Waiting for friends to come from work
To gamble with draft and oyoyo games
Evening after evening, he drinks
Akpeteshi and gin mixed with roots
Then turns around to ask for food
From me, one he calls weaker sex
I bring home from farm, cassava and yam
With baby on my back, I cook and pound
At night, he pumps into my stomach
He dares call me weak, useless husband
Comments
YOU LET HIM DO SO U R WEAK AREN'T YOU BUT IT PLEASES UUUUUUUU
Then turns around to ask for food
From me, one he calls .......weaker sex
COZ U GIVE HIM.............................
At night, he pumps into my stomach
He dares call me weak, useless husband...........
I DISAGREE TOTALLY..............
PLEASE RETHINK
HE GIVES YOU
WHAT YOU HAVEN'T
YET U NEED
HE SATISFIES YOUR GREED
Well...
that is between the couple and from the side we choose to support, Now, you've provided the alternative voice and the quarrel goes on. Yet, the chalice is only a receptacle, not the consumer of content, so where is the greed? Thank you for stopping by and best wishes.
T REX
Welcome back! It is so good to see you.
And to read your poetry once again, I was wondering when you would return!
As usual, I find this poem very good. And I had to laugh, for if anyone had doubt about where you live, this depiction of a layabout husband removes all doubt! lol.
Very good poem, and very good to have you back with us, T.
a good layabout...
sadly, here men like this are increasing in numbers, partly out of laziness as well as economic situation, unemployment and unrest. Thank you, it took me time come back and I am happy to be here, best wishes.
tr