I see not beauty at thy face
You loved the flute of the wind
So it blew thy face away
To no where honorable but the market
Without shame, you even dance there
Have you drunk of the wine
From the cup that makes men mad too?
Woman, where is thy womanhood?
Mother, where is thy motherhood?
I see not beauty at thy face any longer
You must have kissed a mad man, I guess
Well you trade with them at the market square now
Soon you may weave the leaves for your dress
You locked your ears
From naggings and gnashing of teeth
You plucked off your eyes
Yes, that their tears may not reach you
But what is your scheme?
How long shall you keep a cabinet of monkeys?
And let your dear be like the donkeys
Pray, tell,
For this is sacrilege, acute sacrilege
And a theatrical play of folly.
But the stage is not yours
Only a mere player you are
And you dance your skirt up to our face
Three long steps and you retire with one
But woman, ‘tis not your show
Not a one man’s show, not even a woman’s
Take thy veil and cover up
You must exit the stage now
Lest the wind blows, and when it does
It shall blow open your underskirt
Poem by Godspower Oboido
