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Vinod Sharma


Woman


I sit wondering in the sun,
Who forged this puzzling one
With infinite poise charm and grace
And many strange and wondrous ways.

Woman called is she...

Pleasure she brings in her fold,
Joy that lasts but not long,
And gives way to pain and song
To sing to who is now a stone,
Unmoved, untouched, silent and cold.

Woman called is she...

Dazzling eyes and tender skin,
Hide the cruel brain within,
Always at work, silently, unseen,
Without remorse to wreck and kill,
Many a man of strength and will.

Woman called is she...

Like a queen she sits and sees,
A stallion come a cripple go,
Writhing in pain and misery,
Pitying the one who waits to go
To the queen of his fantasy.

Woman called is she...

With a smile she sees him die,
With a shrug she moves away,
To charm another fool that way;
No regrets, not a sigh,
Why care for those die?

Woman called is she...

Submitted: Thursday, July 19, 2012
Edited: Friday, July 20, 2012

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Wrote this three decades back.

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