A Woman Decried...

I won't say anything about this poem but merely ask you to read and decipher it by yourself.

I

As the whip struck its mark, she cried, 

As the ropes wrung her neck, the to-be bride, 

As the ferocious thorns prickled her, quaintly, 

She, stifled, writhing in deathly pain, 

Never did she speak, even faintly,

Nor could she be mute, even feign,

Alas! The ensnared bird, never to be free…

II

‘As I watched on, she cried’, said the girl, 

Savage questions, for the pious pearl, 

Two nimble fingers, sharp eyes, too many, 

‘Eh? Look here; have you ever talked to any boy?

Do you know how to do this, that, any?’

The boy, sitting beside, nodded, ridden of every joy,

As disgust sunk in, as they thought of that woman’s fate…

III

The girl muttered, ‘Oh! Echoes of that sight perturb me,

Evil men laughing at her sensible antics, over tea,

Wily women prodding her every bone, gleefully,

As she, her face covered with an ignoramus veil,

Desperate to please them, trying zealously

At every word spoken, the woman did quail’

As the girl watched on in splendid silence…

IV

As the girl poured out her heart’s pain, guilt-stricken, 

Stupefied, the boy cocked his head and listened, 

‘I was there and yet, I couldn't do anything of use, 

Neither any angry retort nor a word of protest, 

I was as irrelevant as that woman, possibly the next recluse, 

All I could do was to look disgusted, at best, 

But, of what use? Of what use was I?

V

I, a woman of my own right, happy and proud, 

To such denigration, I had bowed, 

Of what use are my credentials, when I am mute?

Not able to save a woman, standing on the brink,

To help escape a life of evils acute,

Of course, I was a woman and thus ‘Don’t think’

I had killed the woman in me…

VI

But what if, the woman herself didn't rebel, 

Trying to live a life in hell’

The girl wiped away her tears, her face resolute,

She couldn't make a difference, yet,

Could she leave that woman, alone and destitute?

But, what could she do, a woman, other than fret?

Could she possibly rise, as a woman evolved?

VII

The boy broke his silence at last, 

Grumbling and mumbling, he asked, 

‘Of what use, is a woman, I ask, 

If she can’t speak for herself, 

She should have taken everyone to task, 

Rather than being a trembling elf!

But, tell me, didn't the man speak anything?’

Alas! The Man, eager to meet his bitter half, 

Amounted to none, merely laughing at every gaffe…

Author's Note

This is my first draft of this poem, hence, I welcome all positive and negative feedback.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

The story in the poem. Well-written and cold. I liked the way you took the reader to bad places and you asked questions. You did very well with this tale. Thank you for sharing the outstanding poetry.
Coyote

[Neeraj V Murali]

Ah! Thank you so much! :)

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome.

[Sami Khalil]

No clue on which woman is decried but there are a lot of that happening in our world. You could be talking about Mother Nature too. I like the sad tone of this poem...Thank you for sharing with us...:)...............

[Neeraj V Murali]

Thanks! :)