PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

For all the merits of being pure,

They are no use if you are,

Entangled in a women’s web,

That strains the heart and wracks the head,

To look for hopeful resolution,

From ear-aches causing large contusions,

And hoping that one may still the wrath,

Of a drunken tart that is just too much.



Yes sure, I know I am not pristine,

And my life is not totally clean,

But believe me it really does not help,

With a serve or lump from the drunken wench,

That makes me ask myself again,

How can I support this continued pain,

From this women who just makes my life,

At times a seemingly fruitless plight?



I really do not know what to do,

To make my life begin anew,

For the moment I lie wrapped in a web,

Waiting ‘til the spinner needs be fed,

I struggle, wriggle, try to escape,

But alas, I think it be too late,

For she has come and when she goes,

I will then of mortality know.



©R.H.Elliott 2002