What an old beautiful lady said
advices the pretty young maid.
“All those stares you’ll ever get,
that’re quite openly displayed,
they are devious, never forget.”
THE OLD BEAUTIFUL LADY SAID
ONLY A WOMAN KNOWS
Only a woman knows who she loves,
man may not say for sure if she does.
The man gets drunken when he loves,
his woman confuses him as she goes,
with same pretences as when she does.
WANT IS WASTEFUL
People want more than they get,
every relief comes with its regret.
Then waste it and still want more,
and their merriment makes it sore.
FRAILTY, THY NAME IS WOMAN
Patience is mainly for women,
pride are horses sired for men.
Ego the mannerisms of a man;
“Frailty, thy name is woman.”
IT IS COMPLICATED
We make life more complicated,
more than it is, which isn’t fated.
When we’re older we realize this;
sadly rather late for joyous ease.
TIME IS RELATIVE
Time is relative; its only worth depends,
upon what we do at it’s every passing.
Personal time follows the rate it tends,
its passage depends on needs pressing.
CHEATING BEDMATES
When a woman has sex with a man
he leaves an imprint over her mind.
It is not the same case for the man,
his is all physical and doesn’t mind.
The woman cheats for the emotion
loving her own man conditionally.
While men love with little emotion
and love a woman unconditionally.
So if he hurts her and she forgives,
he realizes value of her truest love.
When she forgets it; truly forgives,
she submits her existence to love.
But a bastard forgets this yet again,
for men cheat with bodily pleasure.
He is wired to cause a woman pain.
She cheats for emotional pleasure.
WHO RULES THE WORLD
All men think they rule the world
but a married man knows better.
He might obey nothing he is told,
but knows his place in the matter.
WHAT A WOMAN CARRIES
She carries an entire household,
and earn its praise, she isn’t told.
She carries faith and obedience,
regardless of others’ acceptance.
She carries everybody’s decision,
regardless of her specific opinion.
She carries her feminine beauty,
from within and outside her story.
She carries her many successes,
while caging ambitious excesses.
She carries her life and all others,
especially her man and his orders.
WOMAN STILL IN TROUBLE
Woman still in trouble these days
and it is not with her opposite sex.
She freed herself; gotten her ways.
Now her identity is stolen, not sex.
LOST IN CELLS
Are you like me, bias in feeling
yet quite objective in thought?
That men are superior in being
yet of superior women’s birth?
That fame of talent losses out
where nature so easily excels?
That wisdom aged in thought
lost true reasoning in its cells?
BOUNDLESS DREAMS
Dreams are boundless;
though abound endless.
Dreams are as careless,
as quite wholly fearless.
Astounding moist river,
infinite richest streams.
Forging onwards forever,
to no end peak, it seems.
🎨 Art by Pino Daeni
TILL DEATH DO US PART
Our souls fell in love,
it comes from above.
Time it would appear
had made us this pair.
We’re not cruising on
but we surely hold on,
daily playing our part
until death do us part.
JOANNA OF OLD
Unlucky women had the luxury to stay home,
but Joanna would conquer her daily milk run.
With those weighty twin dairy buckets borne
and clad in modesty, she made task a throne.
Determination and its resilience is admirable,
it overcomes all obstacles and would enable.
Images of Joanna captures all women of old,
in their arduous essential integral roles untold.
The Story
Not all women had the luxury of staying at home during the time period mentioned. Many of them were actively engaged in various jobs that required significant effort and were far from easy. One such example is Joanna, a dedicated milkwoman employed by Stoat’s Dairy in Gloucester Place, Marylebone. The year 1872 provides a glimpse into the challenging nature of her work.
Every day, Joanna would embark on her arduous journey through the bustling streets, laden with two heavy buckets of milk. The weight of the buckets would strain her arms and shoulders, making each step a laborious task. She had to navigate crowded thoroughfares, dodging pedestrians and horse-drawn carriages, while carefully balancing the precious cargo she carried.
The early mornings would find Joanna setting out from Stoat’s Dairy, a local establishment known for its high-quality dairy products. Clad in a modest and practical attire befitting her profession, she would make her way through the narrow lanes and bustling markets, her footsteps resounding on the cobbled streets.
Joanna’s determination and resilience were admirable, as she faced numerous challenges on her daily route. The unpaved and uneven roads presented additional obstacles, making her journey even more physically demanding. Rain or shine, she trudged forward, her commitment to delivering fresh milk to the residents of Gloucester Place unwavering.
As Joanna made her way from door to door, her familiar presence became a comforting sight for the local community. The residents, accustomed to her regular visits, would eagerly await her arrival, knowing that she brought sustenance to their households. Her interactions with the customers were often brief but warm, as she exchanged friendly greetings and collected empty bottles for reuse.
Joanna’s work was not without its hazards. The bustling streets posed risks, and she had to be constantly vigilant to avoid accidents. The heavy buckets she carried demanded physical strength and endurance, leaving her muscles sore and fatigued by the end of each day. Yet, Joanna persevered, driven by a sense of duty and the knowledge that her work contributed to the well-being of the community.
The image of Joanna, captured in the photograph from 1872, provides a glimpse into the lives of these hardworking women who played vital roles in society. It reminds us of the challenges they faced and the sacrifices they made to fulfill their duties. Joanna’s story represents countless others who, despite the difficulties they encountered, played an integral part in the daily lives of their communities, ensuring that essential goods reached their destinations.
DRAGON MOTHERS
Spitting fire has a ring to it
that comes with a promise.
A dragon mother spits heat,
and burns anyone with ease.
Hurting a determined lassie
weaponizes her and her jury.
The wrath of God has mercy
but that of a woman has fury.
LOVE IS EVERYTHING
Love is patient and love is kind;
doesn’t envy, it’s one of a kind.
It doesn’t boast, it isn’t proud.
Love does not dishonor others;
it isn’t self-seeking or ever loud.
It isn’t easily angered by others.
Love keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in any evil,
but rejoices with truthful tongues.
It always ever protects and is civil.
It always trusts and always hopes;
always perseveres, anyhow it goes.
1 Corinthians 13:4-8NIV
https://bible.com/bible/111/1co.13.4-7.NIV
JACKASS
Only a fool believes in now,
because everything finishes.
Then, was before, as we know
and the present only reaches
no later than before tomorrow.
Still you wake up with hope
and uncertain wishful prayer,
that this one life pulling rope;
you follow like a trained player,
won’t hang you like a silly dope.
FOLLOWER
The Cockerel that thinks
the sun rises to its crows,
knows not a pig sty stinks
and it’s for a meal it grows.
The moment you follow,
you are surely being led.
You are like your shadow
very much like the dead.
WHERE THERE IS SMOKE
Most times we feel things,
and sense them well ahead.
Many times see these things
but don’t avoid them instead.
The signs will be there for all,
like we stumble before we fall.
Doubt stammered before it spoke,
like there’s fire where there’s smoke.
HOLD ON
Holding onto you
and all time stops.
Very smell of you
fills my many cups.
Sweetness all about
sorrounds the still air.
Breathing in and out,
makes leaving to fear.
I am full but not fed.
I’m held in my breath,
that hasn’t yet paused.
You’re my living wealth.
THE PAST MAKETH
Past is never where we leave it,
it goes with us anywhere we go.
Past is the invincible scarred bit
that heals, remain and still show.
Like a past, everyone has a scar
that help make ’em who they’re.
Experience is in the difference,
for stereotypes aren’t evidence.
Those who habitually generalize
would end up telling general lies.
LOOMING
Time crawls to us, not away;
and it catches up in our way.
We’re never its chasing park;
like a Wolf it finds our track.
That time waits for none of us,
is more true than we choose.
For it does edges towards us
and always ever looming close.
I AM RIGHT ABOUT US
“I should’ve only had to say;
Should’ve only said it once.
Human court have it’s way;
on my list of sins it’ll pounce.
“But no, all will not be forgiven.
You were never seeing past it.
In your own eyes it is a given;
I’ll always be that girl, ain’t it?
“That is why the amputations;
it’s necessary to let go all trust.
Someday you’ll see the options
and see I’m so right about us.”
Inspired by @sthrnwriter
“
BREATH OF LOVE
If you’re in love now;
at this very moment,
or you’ve ever loved
but it’s just not current
Then you’re lucky my friend
because not everyone loves.
Most think so and pretend.
Like breath everyone knows,
love comes and it goes
But remains as you choose.
SEX IS LIKE
Sex is like nothing else.
It is as nice as it is not;
it is reasonable no less
and useless too, of a sort.
Knowledge of it is bliss
Ignorance of it more so
Sex would largely please
It is much like breathing
Once started, no stopping
SIMPLICITY
Over time immemorial as now
people see beauty as so rare.
Searching as far as they know;
to the world’s ends and near.
But beauty is quite so common,
it’s here, there and everywhere;
in all seen, enjoyed and put on.
The beautiful is simply so near.
Painting by @Falopebrhyme
NAUGHTY SAINTHOOD
Always it is Yes she hints,
All smiles in sexy cosy winks.
So he doubles effort and sits
As her encouragement blinks.
He advances and she giggles,
She teases and he heats up.
Yet his matches remain singles
As her naked sainthood shuts up
CAGED RIB
Found my missing rib;
taken many eons ago,
from man’s first ever crib.
Named every living thing,
even she who Woo Man,
she who changes everything.
Now all time is theirs;
though life goes onwards,
I am caged to all of hers.
IT IS FOR YOU
I’ve caught the moon for you.
I will walk off the moon man,
Show him a thing or two too,
Count out his many stars too.
Watch me make all about you.
I’ll steal time, keep it for you;
Like your God, I will save you,
Show off there’s none like you.
WHY SHE HAWKS
Why does time keep ticking,
never waiting or ever stopping?
Why does the air fill our lungs,
and we live, where we belong?
Why does mother work still,
while she looks like we all feel?
Why does she walk the street,
daily giving humility a new feet?
SOMEBODY’S MOTHER
There’s patience in every wait,
and really, nothing is ever late.
With time, effort and faith,
even a mountain is a gate.
Your pained toil is gone yonder,
it’s training carried you further.
Now that the biology is over,
Earn your pride as a mother.
WARMLY 💎 GEM
When you are lovely inwards,
it doesn’t stay hidden inside.
It manage to slip outwards,
showing through every side.
The beauty that makes you,
snugly announces from within.
Your spirit lifts as it warms you,
Making you a gem from within.
WOE MAN
Place of the woman is spent;
through timely cratered vent.
She’s raging in her eruptions;
in her hair raising formations.
Still her place further reduces;
within every gain she chooses.
She’s the lesser man as before,
her sex ever breeds a new woe.
MIGHTY FLEA
And where are you off to
you little mite, busy so so?
To gather as you go through
borrowing to hide down low?
This wind that carry you
draws a ring as you sing.
For one that reigns so true
you live shorter than you bring.
Your bite is so you can live
like all who prey on fatality.
How true it is, in all who live,
That death is but a formality.
BATTLE OF THE CELLS
Who must comes first,
males or the females?
This knowledge a thirst
that quenches with cells.
If what is common birth
forms females or males;
supremacy is their myth,
caged within each’s cells.
Struggling (Wo) Man
By Ahmed Yahaya Joe
Every man has a right to live
Love is all that we have to give
Together we struggle by our will to survive
And together we fight just to stay alive
Struggling man has got to move
Struggling man no time to lose
I’m a struggling man
And I’ve got to move on
As the sun lights the day and the moon lights the night
Struggling man keeps reaching for the higher heights
So we plan for tomorrow as we live for today
Like a flower we bloom, and then later fade away
Struggling man has got to move
Struggling man no time to lose
I’m a struggling man
And I’ve got to move on…….
– Jimmy Cliff (1974)
TRUST
Trust is an egg, floating in the air,
Happy in delightful honest fair.
Safest feeling is only in the hand,
When it’s down to earth and land.
Picture from @MrsZanga
MOTHER
Happy Mothers’ Day, mothers
Mother comes along life’s miles,
Bringing time’s baggages along.
All her scars earn proud smiles,
As her priorities pile and age on
The Garden of Eden
“God did not make all men in his image. He made just one couple in his likeness and gave them the ability to procreate. It is this couple that brought forth other people and all sorts of people tend to mess up a good thing.
“I’m making a case for why good Christian folks turn out to be mean to people in need of assistance at their door steps.”
Just maybe…
“The garden of Eden and the forbidden fruit in the middle of it, in the story of Adam and Eve, is really just the bushy forest between Eve’s legs and her vagina right at the center of it.
“Satan told Eve about her vagina, which she had no clue existed before he told her about it. Then Eve revealed its bounties to Adam, who naturally allowed her to lead him against the wishes of the almighty.
“All that talk of fruit and trees is quite nonsensical and was crafted to hide the true identity of the very first crime of sexual intercourse.
“That may sound like the most absurd interpretation you have ever heard. It will like feel you with rage or amusement with the crafty twist in the interpretation of the tale of Adam and Eve’s disobedience.
“On the contrary, it is quite logical. How else would anyone explain the sudden need for the first couple to cover their nakedness?”
WEDDED WITS
You will love this COPIED Story
A woman went shopping. At the cash counter, she opened her purse to pay.
The cashier noticed a TV remote in her purse.
He could not control his curiosity and asked
“Do you always carry your TV remote with you?”
She replied “No, not always, but my husband refused to accompany me shopping today because of football match, so I took the remote.”
Moral: Accompany and support your wife in her hobbies….
The story continues…
The cashier laughed and then returned all the items that lady had purchased.
Shocked at this act, she asked the cashier what he was doing.
He said, “Your husband has blocked your credit card.”
MORAL: Always respect the hobbies of your husband.
Story continues….
Wife took out her husband’s credit card from purse and swiped it. Unfortunately he didn’t block his own card.
Moral: Don’t underestimate the power and wisdom of your WIFE..
Story continues…
After swiping, the machine indicated, ‘ENTER THE PIN SENT TO YOUR MOBILE PHONE’
Moral: When a man tends to lose, the machine is smart enough to save him!
Story continues….
She smiled to herself and reached out for the mobile which rang in her purse.
It was her husband’s phone showing the forwarded SMS.
She had taken it with the remote control so he doesn’t call her during her shopping.
She bought her items and returned home happily.
Moral: Don’t underestimate a desperate woman!
Story continues….
On getting home, his car was gone.
A note was pasted on the door
“Couldn’t find the remote. Gone out with the boys to watch the premiership match. Will be home late. Call me on my phone if you need something”.
Damn… He left with the house key too.
*Moral: Don’t try to control your husband.
You will always lose.
Happy International Women’s Day. ❤
Celebrating all the women here. Y’all are the definition of strength, true love and sacrifice. Stay strong and blessed.
Happy International Women’s Day. ❤
THE REASON MOST MEN MARRY
Most grown men were previously of the opinion that they should always have the major say in their romantic relationships. They realized too late that they had succumbed to female charms unconsciously. Like most people they discovered they aren’t built outwardly as they are inwardly. They lead themselves on with the false hope that they could blunt the sharpness that heralds the things they covet the most, like most women so pitifully do. Majority of men love the attributes of the women they end up with, not the women and that is their undoing.
Women aren’t on the same level playing field with men. A woman yields for the man to thrust himself into her life. When she momentarily refuses to yield and he persists forcibly, that is defined as rape. When she is coerced into giving in unwillingly, it hurts hers and she ensures it would practically displease him too in the long run. The woman wants favours and still wants equality, leaving her man with the vague decisions of what are actually his strengths, choices, rights and his initiated ideas. His admonitions and inclinations are shredded with all the belated unexpected outpouring that follows the subsequent sense of abandonment dimly registering in his complicated thoughts, when she gets her way as always.
Yet she will still hurl varied insults at his person, distorting and trampling facts. When the fragrance of the truth is confronted, it will always smell quite feminine. There are no legal statutes governing the woman’s natural strength sapping and ego violating antecedents, that always ends with a fuming fretted man.
Strenght of a Woman
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/383812
http://authl.it/B00SLXADGY
https://www.createspace.com/5252496
http://okadabooks.com/book/about/8963
MARRIAGE IS THE WOMAN’S
Women can not but accept that they make a marriage work. The nature of the man is too proud, independent and selfish to make all the compromises a marriage needs to work. In the most traditional setting the onus is on the woman to do all the work for a marriage. She would think that she couldn’t do much of it without the male’s maintained cooperation, but really most men never had actually cooperated from the onset.
It is clear that the more independent the woman seeks to be and the more independence she attains over time and exercises in her personalized wishes in a marriage and in life in general, the more the marital proverbially boat rocks, hit the rocks and sinks. Then only the woman really loses out because the marriage institution best personifies her. The man would only instantly lose the joys of the woman’s attributes, all those many attachments that were always only really beneficial to him. The woman loses the marriage she was wooed into. It will hurt the man’s pride, take away the brightness in the pleasures he enjoys for the while. Then his face would beam, his eyes gleam with delight and his lips blossom into the fresh smile of yet another blissful union. Women mostly seek face value like their much belittled gender, racial and regional orientation expects of them.
Truly black women are practically more racists in their preferences. Though they are very hospitable and more selfless, they are collectively personal and quite tribal, and trivial in their general choices; preferring outward values above all others. The twisting effect of religion doesn’t change this trend as much as culture has affected it over time, it actually worsens it. Civilization merely inserted a dent in the trend but not altered in fully. A whooping resounding domineering majority of religious people aren’t adult converts but are actually circumstantially religious by some original orientation. Thus it has never been the quest of religious people to seek the rightfulness of another faith ahead of theirs. They are always schooled in the desires of their immediate needs and desire to put other faith’s principle on a logical pedestal. To remotely glorify different teachings is not even entertained.
They would ordinarily consider all others faiths quite inferior to theirs and oddly that poorly or wrongly conceives subjective ideologies but not guide any sacred insight like theirs would. In this line of thought they linger in, their need of it engulfs their bias reasoning, which is to belong firmly and remain so in their tight fitting world of faithful make-belief. Their near misses are actually searches and they are never real losers in the end, but endless winners that out number their victories. It is in these all too familiar marriages that the lingering incompatibility of each separate union comes true and freedom from that inner human loneliness couples look for is ever elusive, endlessly so. Freedom from humanly imposed regulations is the spelled out thought that holds them captive with its one tracked biasness. Then as the birds of marital prey are spotted and stopped from perching over human heads, they stay out of reach and fly over head with their very own intensions in mind and never that of another. The presence of freedom has the propensity to be quite harmful eventually too, just as does the absence of it. The case in favour of true freedom is that it allows choice, and choice makes the man. It is the main difference in humanity’s tangible essence over its adopted civility.
WILL YOU MARRY ME?
These intimate songs we sing
Blend aged dreams into a ring
That weds our gendered stew
In matrimonial oneness not new.
Strenght of a woman
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/383812
http://authl.it/B00SLXADGY
https://www.createspace.com/5252496
http://okadabooks.com/book/about/8963
The Poet in the Poem
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/451309
http://authl.it/B00SLWGOMM
https://www.createspace.com/5195332
SATURDAY POETRY SERIES PRESENTS: ELIZABETH O’CONNELL-THOMPSON — As It Ought to Be
INVITATION ONLY By Elizabeth O’Connell-Thompson When they come knocking, I take them by the hand that had been a fist moments before and show them something beautiful— a black creek in the woods, a doe’s skull in the field. I lead them just far enough away that they can still see the house, but not […]
via SATURDAY POETRY SERIES PRESENTS: ELIZABETH O’CONNELL-THOMPSON — As It Ought to Be
Time Spirals — MairImages.ca Blog
…Our lives cover Such a tiny span Of this time’s Endless coil…
Settle — Eyes + Words
Written by Jacob Ibrag She wanted more than he could give her. He asked her to meet him half way. ‘Never, I refuse to settle.’ Walking past her peripheral, he turned back one last time and tried to remember every single detail of their night. Black dress with red trim. ‘Pink lips that I’ll never kiss again.’ Photographer Unknown
CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT
The settings might differ from one case to another but generally speaking women are really like birds when hurt. They fall off the so many trees of their painful romantic memories and just any well placed fellow can pick up their flightless form, hold them, toss them, strip and grill them the way he wants before devouring them to his heart’s desire.
It is feminine’s most natural need to be loved always. It is the most vulnerable nature of a woman, one she does not really succeed in doing anything about. On the part of the man, he can only hope that he can belittle the strength of the woman by making it appear less the issue in his pretence that it is. The strength of the woman is always that very visible influence she has, but the man never appreciates and respect but habitually needs. The might of the naturally endowed woman is ironically most telling in the young lady, still growing and inexperienced, than in the much older, already experienced women. As soon as a girl first experiences the subtle gains in the influential might of her unique feminine attributes and realizes that she could literally downsize, cut and render worthless, to near non-existent, any age difference between her and much older lustful men with a little effort, she instantly ages further than them and momentarily own their emotions, repeatedly.
She grows not in age but in the more worldly rewarding craft of simply being a human being, that sole complex entity that personifies both men and women in the naturally naïve, emotionally weak but capably strong nature of humanity.
STRENGTH OF A WOMAN
Where is the bird that hatched this egg?
Flying above the world, up so very high.
And the monkey the farmer wouldn’t beg?
Laughing up a branch, he threatens not near.
Will they ever marry their ideas, so very big?
As always they steal, flock, eat and do share.
Flying above the world, up so very High,
The bird still returns down to hatch its egg.
Laughing away harmless threats if not near,
The monkey’s hunger for the farm will beg.
Their ideas created their world and it is clear,
That strength of the woman gave marriage a leg.
Strength of a Woman
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/383812
http://authl.it/B00SLXADGY
https://www.createspace.com/5252496
http://okadabooks.com/book/about/8963
The Poet in the Poem
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/451309
http://authl.it/B00SLWGOMM
https://www.createspace.com/5195332
Exotic Female Tennis
(Excerpts from ‘Sporting Chance’ in ‘Everyone hates the English’)
Vijay had always been quite fond of lawn tennis and he played it sparingly sometimes. Only he was helplessly useless with the racquet in his favorite right hand and even worse with the netted large batting instrument in his naturally less dexterous left hand. His aged tennis instructor would encourage him with poetry.
“I guess if you stick around long enough, nothing ever is but always was.”
Vijay was just horrible with his hands and had always wondered what good is human ingenuity if people had no fingers? Vijay was good with his legs, but then maybe he just had good football instructors and terrible ones for tennis. Vijay never saw the old man win a single game and had since concluded the old man had only managed to be a top seeded player in a grand slam tourney, when the game of tennis was played with eloquent words. But Vijay reserved his fondest interest for female tennis and there were loads of reasons for this. Chief amongst these are firstly, the girls’ rallies lasted longer, making scored points longer in coming. That however is the only technical reason for his preference, though he claims there are other technical reasons, all his other reasons were quite feminine ones. These include the cute umbrella shaped skirts the ladies wore when they played tennis.
As the female tennis server descends from a ballerina toed posture, the lift of her skirt exposes robustly fleshy or firm slim exotic thighs with is swerve, shuffle and swing. This presents the pleasant brief view that makes even keener spectators of most male followers of female tennis. At momentarily inactive rest periods, live spectators get to rest their stiff necks from the prolonged following of the furry small ball across the center net, from player to player. Yet male spectator wolfishly enjoy watching the resting players, sitting in their low stages like actresses, as they mop their skimpy clad bodies with thick towels at some green coloured pool side, seemingly oblivious that they are still a viewing delight for the casual on-lookers.
Then there is the buzz of watching the girls stretch out fully to return difficult low line-edged balls, to save a point. The regular flash of their finely tightened buttocks, which is a generous meaty picture beneath those umbrella shaped skirts doing more of a good job in covering their bellies and lower backs than they do anything lower. Vijay’s ultimate high are the moans, groans and shrill screaming, such that with ears plugged, shut eyed or reading an adult magazine as the ladies play, the sound effect would pass for the next door pervert loudly watching X-rated channels. With little imagination, the athleticism of the playing ladies could easily revert to a high stage performance, with handled vertical fixed stainless pole instead of racquets and with half drunk hooting men, swinging crisp money notes at the entertaining girls, encouragingly them to whack some furry balls.
EVERYONE HATES THE ENGLISH (LC67V)
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/559891
http://authl.it/B011JMAIYA
https://www.createspace.com/5650770
http://okadabooks.com/book/about/9867
FRIENDLY FOES: Another must read
A World of Sentiments
Strangest explosion rocks the Karachi international airport just as a massive deployment of US marines arrived the busy airport. Stories of the victims and their relatives, responders and their purpose, perpetrators and their reasons, unfolds a tale of current resolutions based on old conceptions. The narrative tells of the most diverse colorful global characters surrounded with a good mix of friends and foes.
There is David Holden, the English Doctor who loves humanity more than his origins. His idea of getting use to scarcity in the midst of plenty paid off in his later years as a charitable medical doctor with the United Nations, WHO and Red Cross, while working with refugees all around the world.
Abdul Kazaar Ali is Doctor Holden’s opportunistic aged patient who lives out his perception of Muslim norms like he desires. In Karachi, bearded old men must daily demand the honourable respect only reserved for them after death. Only the living can tell the honour bestowed on them and the dead, the judgment they spent a life-time waiting for. Abdul Kazzar wanted his reward on earth and his son; Umar Ali, held much promise after he ran off to England and started working in London to learn the lucrative wisdom of the English.
Aaamu and her mother Rael are Kenyans with Somalian origins. They live by their wits as their circumstances allow. Ladies always come first in typical English fashion and Rael Amu is obsessed with being first but there are very few things in which a young Muslim maiden gets to be first in. Rael passed on her obsession to her daughter and gave her all the tools she needs to be first.
Then there is Fatima, who is smart enough to outwit her sexuality but too human to resist normalcy. From a tender age Fatima figured out that she only got a better deal when she isn’t identified as Arab or Muslim. In America the distinction between the two is inconsequential. Fatima only had to behave ideally in the care of her uncle, Suleiman.
Suleiman’s wife is a delightful gentle half-literate girl named Khadija. She is younger than Fatima and imported from Yemen especially for marriage. Khadija came to Suleiman untarnished by western ways and speaking some English, just enough. Partially caged-in, according to Suleiman’s mildly liberal interpretations of Islamic rites, who ensured Khadija isn’t more exposed than her elbows. But Khadija discovered a lot more than Suleiman cared for.
Ruth is the young Israeli genius whose Jewish father; Avi Jonah, gave her a lot more than just his name. She was born in Tel Aviv and grew up there into a strong healthy industrious lady. Ruth had a pleasant childhood, unlike her controvertial nation’s. All through history every true super power took its turn in bullying the proud Jews.
Avi Jonah is more Hebrew than he is Jewish, that comes across in his lessons to Ruth and her siblings. It is the Hebrews forte to be proficient in history and like everybody else, their history is always opinionated.
Lee is Ruth’s Chinese boyfriend and school-mate in London, who is trying out his fantasies alongside his opinions. Lee didn’t talk much and hated talking about himself to anyone, Ruth was the only exception. Lee spent most of his leisure time, while growing up in main land China, learning what most enlightened minds in the world had to say about things. His brilliant mind was full of information about diverse cultures from every part of the world.
Professor Henry Benjamin is Lee’s octogenarian landlord, a world renown, multiple award winning, retired academician with many reputable publications to his credit. The steady presence of Lee and his equally excellent girlfriend was a big plus for the aged man with a very weak heart.
Then there is Sean Samuel, the Irish-American reporter with a huge reputation he constantly seeks to live up to, like his proud American nation. Sean wasn’t ever much of a fighter, with his uncles’ tough reputation he never had cause to prove he is a descendant of an Irish gangster from Dublin who migrated to New York city to continue being a crook.
A MUST READ
FRIENDLY FOES
A World of Sentiments
https://www.createspace.com/6131298
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MARRIED MEN FOR SINGLE GIRLS
To some young single girl, married men are ever comfortably understandable, matured and polite in their fair and unforced disposition. However the wanton desires of these young girls never warns them that the intentions of these much older men does not always look as fair as they are always pretentiously justified to be, in their deceptively natured maturity. The woman’s all-embracing monstrous natural need to be overwhelmed by a man, who aim to get the better of her, justifies her consanguineous attachment to her eternal older brother, the man.
The honourable older married man always has the most desire to be secretive in such relationships. While the younger single girl would likely show some pride in her bigger achievement, the setting would hurt him with an odd sort of feeling afresh with old emotions of being an unworthy person. His older and more honourable world would notice his failures, even if it identifies with his expression of it. When he is certainly found out and has to confront his critics, the older married man could simply hold his head high and be proud of his shameful freedom while the world he has conditioned will fall silent snugly, presumable out of interfering in his business, as the public end up secretly more embarrassed than he ought to be.
WILL YOU MARRY ME?
These intimate songs we sing
Blend aged dreams into a ring
That weds our gendered stew
In matrimonial oneness not new.
The Poet in the Poem
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