Jonathan ROBIN

Freshman - 544 Points (22 September / London)

It's Time For Rhyme To Help Poor Male To Understand Why Women Lead The Way! - Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Man thinks 'I AM because I, man, do rule'
woman links through 'sharing tools' one school
is based on networks, t'other, baseless would
irk, jerk work's nets, ease seize, she sees Time's fool!

She minds her peace, he gives her piece of mind.
Unkind he stays, strays often, should she mind?
She's paradise, he's dice parade between
knots he ties [w]hitch she must then unwind.

She works her shift, he shifts his work to her.
He, shiftless, shifty, silky shifts swift spurs.
He preys on her where she for him would pray,
Her pay he'd tax where she relax prefers.

She cares for kids, where he kids, cares to rest
before some sport - while she supports the rest,
works both from nine to five and five to nine.
He sports bright ties - light ties prefers the best!

She looks ahead while he, as head, looks on
good looks - which in her book is more than wrong,
regretting grass seems greener through the fence,
defence of dreams is sold short, for a song.

He wields the axe, while she bears forty whacks,
He thinks he wears the trousers though he slacks,
He waxes wroth his ‘needs', she kneeds the wax
fills cracks, unshackles, builds long lasting shacks.

He cares to live, she ever lives to care.
He won't forgive, she gives for sharing where
he wars till doom's tomb, she will bloom, bear fruit.
He spi[t]es for wayfare, she, sprite, lights way fair!

Louse fields house work, though spouse must work the fields.
She feels the pinch, though he both pinches, feels.
She earns her keep yet he her earnings keeps,
She yields nett count, while he, he counts gross yields!

She swears to honour, cherish and obey,
while he of harem dreams, as Pasha, Bey,
his plots earn worthless plot of earth one day
when parthenogenisis comes to stay.

If SHE could autoreproduce or clone,
If SHE the race continued all alone,
what trace would HE retain who, vain, sees end
as master, losing face, owns lying prone?

If HE, who least believes, seems set in stone,
who most receives, grieves, leaves atone,
Mona Lisa sentence might suspend,
sparing rib that cuts her to the bone.

Poet's Notes about The Poem

See Rubaiyat of Invention and Innovation

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Poem Submitted: Monday, January 21, 2013

Poem Edited: Tuesday, January 22, 2013

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