Sonnet 367

Born of false rib is woman, spiteful,
Mean, where often scornful jealousy abounds;
Mawkish and manipulative, guileful,
While teared success in victimhood is found;
Triumph denied — why sure by world oppressed!
Piqued to be judged by beauty’s breath alone,
Yet then to don hypocrisy’s finest dress
And paint a face to mock a happy clown.
Duplicity of heart to weave wild schemes
Where poison, lies and bitchery do dwell,
Then drifting off in princess coddled dreams
Where regal frowns can conjure living hell;
Yet as you read, you roll your eyes again,
As I in cursive scrive by truth your name.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s