Behind Any Descent Man Is A Wonderful Woman Poem by Leslie Alexis

He’s no composer of music that gain praise from men:
His fingers do not strum the cords of the guitar well.
He’s no sculptor of Davids that paradigm mankind;
At his touch marble breaks as though eggshell.

No sun sets in the horizon of his blue eyes:
The ground reflects in them all the time.
No gold is sprinkled in his savannah hair;
But tar, from falling when he tried to climb.

He’s no scholar of signs or paths of the sun;
He only supposes till he dies He’ll see it rise.
He’s no speaker of romance as if his own,
He knows not how to make truth from lies.

Lying as with other arts, he has not mastered.
His world is flat and he’ll fall off the edge
If he journeys to the furthest borders,
If he ever breaks the blood-signed pledge.

He hasn’t the wisdom to give much advice,
But this one thing he says you always choose:
When woman exchanges heart with you… Accept!
Because with her sincerity, you cannot lose.

On the woman, never try to reason her way,
In-truth, it is a task that man cannot do.
The wisest, smoothest, most nimble man,
Even if he's immortal, would never construe

Why a woman would have her toe stepped on
By a love who cannot play her any songs,
Cannot design or craft petal with his hand;
And dirt can be found that is better to look upon,

When princes fill the earth like maggots on flesh,
And many are they who would come to her call.
He’s reasoned, reasoned well, but can’t understand,
Why she’d choose the clumsiest of them all.

This man, to her his heart he’s given away
That to others he can seem heartless:
Beautiful women no longer receive his smile;
He window-shops for her wedding dress.

He acknowledges that there are some days
When his feet hurt from climbing love’s stairs,
But with options of climbing, descending or standing,
He remembers her smile and faces his fears.

A heart that descends will only climb again,
For love is its need and its only want.
Standing is not an option, so he climbs on.
He came to this decision and he’s no savant,

No master of art and no maker of songs.
He’s favorite music is the tapping feet and hum.
It reminds him of the heartbeat of she who came
And made him walk the path to the man he’d become.

Copyright © 2010 Leslie Alexis