Woman And Man Poem by Vidya Pandarinath

The filled clay pot on her head,
Balanced, she paced up the coarse hill,
Swaying free her left hand
Rhythmic with an unseen band,
Careful not even a drop to spill,
Up to the top with the end dead;
The greeting fresh powerful breeze
Refreshed her tired spirit
With a sly blooming smile
And feel contented the while
That she had the merit
Disproving her onlookers mind- freeze -
All full prowess is an asset
Of man, making him great
And accomplished for any task;
But now no one to ask,
Muttered to himself straight
' For a woman's patience and power - outlet '
' Man is but a feeble match '
Any work undeterred, she can better dispatch