Wife Violence Poems | Violence Poems About Wife
These Wife Violence poems are examples of Violence poems about Wife. These are the best examples of Wife Violence poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
So much emphasis is placed today on the role of the wife
She is to be pure, pristine, just, hardworking
She is to imbibe all who surround her with faith
She needs to be able to know everything without ever asking
She is to be the woman behind her husband
The one who would make of him a gem
To be a wife, is surely a complicated state
Acted out badly, one can even be a contraband!
But what of the duties of a man,
Is he as important as the woman
To be a husband requires one only to work and bring money
To care not whether the home is, without him, in harmony
Husbands are in heaven whose wives scold not
Husbands have rights, rights to use words of spite
Rights to beat, rights to abuse
Rights even to cheat, to hurt and bruise
When the woman speaks out, or scolds such a man
She becomes something seen by some as a legend
Seen by others as un-womanly
Whatever, she knows how to protect herself through her duty
What of those men whose wives scold not
Should they be brought back to the pot
To be cooked and simmered
To be brought to the right path
Feminists, equal rights, equal opportunities
Women's places no more being in the kitchen
Husbands, change your mentalities
We, women, we are frail and easily broken!
Through and through though more to do-
A thousand thoughts to misconstrue!
Too long I've waited, too sad and sedated
To live a lie I declare is true...
And so it seems that in my dreams
I bathe myself in Moonlight beams
That light the night, turn black to white
And will slit my throat at any means!
I put my hands around my wife's throat and I squeezed.
What disturbs me is that when she died, I was pleased.
When it came to having morals, I used to believe that I had some.
But every time I look in the mirror, I'm horrified to see what I've become.
My wife was so mean and she loved to provoke.
Life became intolerable every time she spoke.
She told me over and over how ugly and stupid that I am.
I snapped and killed her and now my soul has been damned.
I want to go to the Cops but they would lock me up for life, I would never again be free.
But that's only if I would get lucky, it's more likely that I would receive the death penalty.
When it came to my problems, she was the source.
If I hadn't snapped, I might have considered divorce.
As each day passed, that witch became even colder.
I'll spend the rest of my days looking over my shoulder.
She was a horrible Human Being and she loved to annoy me.
I'll never stop fearing that the Cops are closing in and that will eventually destroy me.
(This is a fictional poem)