Nero CaroZiv


To A Woman Like You - Poem by Nero CaroZiv

To a woman like you experience might have told me
That all must love you once they catch a glimpse of you
For there is no measure to one’s pleasure invoked from your view
Yet such treasure as you does not come without a plea

And surely experience of my age might have taught
That your firmest assurances are naught
But being placed all your charms and vulnerability before me
Age failed me, all I forgot except adoring thee

For sure the numbers of replacements are vast
All eager to fulfill your urgent as trivial tasks
I have never been an advocator of quantity
When it comes to friends, in the contrary, of quality

But why shall I be stern to the haughty
By all means and good intends let me bless them all
The dwarf, the round and the tall
Guarding you from your friends never has been my duty


Nor shall I draw your attention
To a noble madam with a daughter in a mansion
Both pretty with shiny feathers and lush falls from head
Trying to lure and corral fresh young blood to the Madam’s husband bed

A woman of thousands enticements fair and fond deceiver
How prompt are we like naive striplings to believe her
How throb the pulse, how chock the throat
Little we know it is all show of naught

The manly weakness that fails me when I view
The eye that roll in glossy haze I knew
Or sparkles black, or mildly throws
A piercing beam from under hazel brows


How quick I applaud and credit every oath
When I hear your plight the willing troth
Amorously I hope it will take us around the globe
When, Lo! She changes all like stones rolling down slop

A woman fickle like you, her nature is so false
Her character full of frauds, a beauty with so many flaws
Yet I never reach apprehension or satiety
With such complex of beauty and fallacious variety

I shall be glad to say farewell to you deceitful maid
It is in vain and fruitless to regret
Nor hope nor memory yield their aid
But pride may guide me and strengthen me to forget

I shall seek other endeavors and joys
Yet to think nowadays, would drive my soul to chaotic madness
Even in careless throngs in thoughtless empty noise
I can conquer only half of my bosom’s sadness

copy rights 2010


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Poem Submitted: Sunday, August 15, 2010



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