Tinuola olaiya


A Woman's Worth? ? - Poem by Tinuola olaiya

You measure me out till I can’t feel my self worth..
Your derika has a mass of tissue sewn in it.
It’s not a fair deal
Your jara is a clenched fist over my plate with nothing in it..
It’s not a fair deal..
This seal that marks your being as different from mine


It’s good for the goose bad for the gander..
It’s right for you and wrong for me..
You profit from my wisdom but would rather I was dumb
I wear the pants and then the pumps
only when it pleases you
I travel the miles and carry the load.
The burden of our everyday lives..


You cover me up and burden me on,
I bear the kids and nurse them still..
You carry the lance but I the bloodied hand
You ought to be champion;
But I fight alone.


You cover me up.
I only see grays through the veils of your imprisonment..
My feet you shackle with the chains of my form..


you beat me here and kick me there..
Till I cower in a corner tight as a ball
Your words and your fist all hit without miss
I am a proof of your strenght
The fact that you are strong..


Even on the days when the sea is calm and all the storms have fallen asleep;
On the days when the crashing waves have gone away;
And all is fair and blue;
I can’t say how I want, what I want or when I want...
you turn me around
and ride on like a bull,
My pleasures are swallowed up in yours;
Buried before they are borne
My cries are unheard..
They are but muffled sighs


You look into my eyes; see my peace; and it gnaws at your despair
You see the serene place called my soul
And it tears at the stormy place called yours..


Tell me wise and strong one, If I am your help;
Shouldn’t I be made in wisdom and strenght?
for what help is help,
If it’s not better than or same as the need? ?
What answer is an answer; that does not unravel the question;
To show it’s path
It’s path from the past and it’s journey into the future? ?


For if I am called help,
Then who is wise and who is not? ?
Tell me, who is strong, and who is not? ?

Tinuola.







You measure me out till I can’t feel my self worth..
Your derika has a mass of tissue sewn in it.
It’s not a fair deal
Your jara is a clenched fist over my plate with nothing in it..
It’s not a fair deal..
This seal that marks your being as different from mine


It’s good for the goose bad for the gander..
It’s right for you and wrong for me..
You profit from my wisdom but would rather I was dumb
I wear the pants and then the pumps
only when it pleases you
I travel the miles and carry the load.
The burden of our everyday lives..


You cover me up and burden me on,
I bear the kids and nurse them still..
You carry the lance but I the bloodied hand
You ought to be champion;
But I fight alone.


You cover me up.
I only see grays through the veils of your imprisonment..
My feet you shackle with the chains of my form..


you beat me here and kick me there..
Till I cower in a corner tight as a ball
Your words and your fist all hit without miss
I am a proof of your strenght
The fact that you are strong..


Even on the days when the sea is calm and all the storms have fallen asleep;
On the days when the crashing waves have gone away;
And all is fair and blue;
I can’t say how I want, what I want or when I want...
you turn me around
and ride on like a bull,
My pleasures are swallowed up in yours;
Buried before they are borne
My cries are unheard..
They are but muffled sighs


You look into my eyes; see my peace; and it gnaws at your despair
You see the serene place called my soul
And it tears at the stormy place called yours..


Tell me wise and strong one, If I am your help;
Shouldn’t I be made in wisdom and strenght?
for what help is help,
If it’s not better than or same as the need? ?
What answer is an answer; that does not unravel the question;
To show it’s path
It’s path from the past and it’s journey into the future? ?


For if I am called help,
Then who is wise and who is not? ?
Tell me, who is strong, and who is not? ?

Tinuola.







You measure me out till I can’t feel my self worth..
Your derika has a mass of tissue sewn in it.
It’s not a fair deal
Your jara is a clenched fist over my plate with nothing in it..
It’s not a fair deal..
This seal that marks your being as different from mine


It’s good for the goose bad for the gander..
It’s right for you and wrong for me..
You profit from my wisdom but would rather I was dumb
I wear the pants and then the pumps
only when it pleases you
I travel the miles and carry the load.
The burden of our everyday lives..


You cover me up and burden me on,
I bear the kids and nurse them still..
You carry the lance but I the bloodied hand
You ought to be champion;
But I fight alone.


You cover me up.
I only see grays through the veils of your imprisonment..
My feet you shackle with the chains of my form..


you beat me here and kick me there..
Till I cower in a corner tight as a ball
Your words and your fist all hit without miss
I am a proof of your strenght
The fact that you are strong..


Even on the days when the sea is calm and all the storms have fallen asleep;
On the days when the crashing waves have gone away;
And all is fair and blue;
I can’t say how I want, what I want or when I want...
you turn me around
and ride on like a bull,
My pleasures are swallowed up in yours;
Buried before they are borne
My cries are unheard..
They are but muffled sighs


You look into my eyes; see my peace; and it gnaws at your despair
You see the serene place called my soul
And it tears at the stormy place called yours..


Tell me wise and strong one, If I am your help;
Shouldn’t I be made in wisdom and strenght?
for what help is help,
If it’s not better than or same as the need? ?
What answer is an answer; that does not unravel the question;
To show it’s path
It’s path from the past and it’s journey into the future? ?


For if I am called help,
Then who is wise and who is not? ?
Tell me, who is strong, and who is not? ?

Tinuola.







You measure me out till I can’t feel my self worth..
Your derika has a mass of tissue sewn in it.
It’s not a fair deal
Your jara is a clenched fist over my plate with nothing in it..
It’s not a fair deal..
This seal that marks your being as different from mine


It’s good for the goose bad for the gander..
It’s right for you and wrong for me..
You profit from my wisdom but would rather I was dumb
I wear the pants and then the pumps
only when it pleases you
I travel the miles and carry the load.
The burden of our everyday lives..


You cover me up and burden me on,
I bear the kids and nurse them still..
You carry the lance but I the bloodied hand
You ought to be champion;
But I fight alone.


You cover me up.
I only see grays through the veils of your imprisonment..
My feet you shackle with the chains of my form..


you beat me here and kick me there..
Till I cower in a corner tight as a ball
Your words and your fist all hit without miss
I am a proof of your strenght
The fact that you are strong..


Even on the days when the sea is calm and all the storms have fallen asleep;
On the days when the crashing waves have gone away;
And all is fair and blue;
I can’t say how I want, what I want or when I want...
you turn me around
and ride on like a bull,
My pleasures are swallowed up in yours;
Buried before they are borne
My cries are unheard..
They are but muffled sighs


You look into my eyes; see my peace; and it gnaws at your despair
You see the serene place called my soul
And it tears at the stormy place called yours..


Tell me wise and strong one, If I am your help;
Shouldn’t I be made in wisdom and strenght?
for what help is help,
If it’s not better than or same as the need? ?
What answer is an answer; that does not unravel the question;
To show it’s path
It’s path from the past and it’s journey into the future? ?


For if I am called help,
Then who is wise and who is not? ?
Tell me, who is strong, and who is not? ?

Tinuola.







You measure me out till I can’t feel my self worth..
Your derika has a mass of tissue sewn in it.
It’s not a fair deal
Your jara is a clenched fist over my plate with nothing in it..
It’s not a fair deal..
This seal that marks your being as different from mine


It’s good for the goose bad for the gander..
It’s right for you and wrong for me..
You profit from my wisdom but would rather I was dumb
I wear the pants and then the pumps
only when it pleases you
I travel the miles and carry the load.
The burden of our everyday lives..


You cover me up and burden me on,
I bear the kids and nurse them still..
You carry the lance but I the bloodied hand
You ought to be champion;
But I fight alone.


You cover me up.
I only see grays through the veils of your imprisonment..
My feet you shackle with the chains of my form..


you beat me here and kick me there..
Till I cower in a corner tight as a ball
Your words and your fist all hit without miss
I am a proof of your strenght
The fact that you are strong..


Even on the days when the sea is calm and all the storms have fallen asleep;
On the days when the crashing waves have gone away;
And all is fair and blue;
I can’t say how I want, what I want or when I want...
you turn me around
and ride on like a bull,
My pleasures are swallowed up in yours;
Buried before they are borne
My cries are unheard..
They are but muffled sighs


You look into my eyes; see my peace; and it gnaws at your despair
You see the serene place called my soul
And it tears at the stormy place called yours..


Tell me wise and strong one, If I am your help;
Shouldn’t I be made in wisdom and strenght?
for what help is help,
If it’s not better than or same as the need? ?
What answer is an answer; that does not unravel the question;
To show it’s path
It’s path from the past and it’s journey into the future? ?


For if I am called help,
Then who is wise and who is not? ?
Tell me, who is strong, and who is not? ?

Tinuola.


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, December 1, 2011



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