Woe Poem by Okoronkwo Jonathan Jackson

Made from man and to man brought,
That he may appreciate and
Like the others name. But;
At the sight cried he, what a woe!

The best that gets the society going,
To man's fall in history came this doom-
Bone of my bones thou art; Yet
Still to imagine-ever remaining a woe.

To humanity destruction unleasheth,
In strength the world taketh higher-
Flesh of flesh to man,
Striving always to a woe.

That I be salvaged from this perilous adventure
Of an unending impetuosity-
Shattered and battered, persevering in the agony,
With hopes full, enduring the woe.

In celibacy the woe glareth in alluring feature.
In potency, the appraisal of thee unto man is testified. For
No one leaveth without a feel of thy touch always-
Either to get subjected or die fighting the woe.

Thy intoxication stronger than the claret,
Throwing to stupor thy beholder.
Little in mind bears the stupidity-
For joy it giveth, yet remains a woe.

What then is it that keepeth the man,
The success from the woe bearing, Or
The failure from the woe, hanging and pushing on? Yet
We know-This is all about Woman.