She woke up with the lark
And made her way to the garden
Rubbing the sleep off her eyes, she sighed
As she threw the baby on her back
And rushed, albeit she was heavily laden
The morning dew tickling her legs hard
Oops! It’s already 12 O’clock
She rushes home with a yawn
To find her man larked in the homestead
‘Omweso’ was the game of luck
A little rest is all she hoped to earn
But his stomach grumbles are a little too loud
“Woman’!!! He shouts as if to his cook
‘Bring me some warm roasted corn
Did you forget that in this house I am the head”?
All the pain and disgust is in her look
But any delay – a slap she will earn
“‘I could leave him’, she thinks – ‘if only I can be bold’”
What would life be like if she had read a book?
Would she be stuck there as if on loan?
They said her future was not alive but dead
And she was taken away from the babbling brook
Because what is a woman but a beast of burden?
Alas! We are stuck in the ways and days of old.
Composed by @mariez
I feel overwhelming sadness after reading your poem. If writing down few words can push someone to feel such strong emotions, it means that the author is truly talented.
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Thank you so much for taking your time to appreciate my work.
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You have been curated by @yohan2on, a country representative (Uganda). We are curating using the steemcurator04 curator account to support steemians in Africa.
Keep creating good content on Steemit.
Always follow @ steemitblog for updates on steemit
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