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Violence Woman Poems | Violence Poems About Woman

These Violence Woman poems are examples of Violence poems about Woman. These are the best examples of Violence Woman poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse |

Humanity Melts

Looking at you, they feel lust;
lust for the curves they say you flaunt.
The silver lining visible through your deep neck.
The perfect waist they say,
you show in those tightly fitting kurtis.
Those slender legs they stare at,
during the numb hours;
their humanity melts with each moment a bit more.

Looking at you, they show greed;
greed for the thighs they say you flaunt.
The belly button showing through your crop top.
The toned hips they say,
you show in those cotton leggings.
Those naked backs they search for,
with their lustful glances;
their humanity melts with each moment a bit more.

Looking at you, they trickle saliva;
saliva on your pure spots they say you flaunt.
The strap of your bra peeking out through your shoulder.
Those luscious lips they say,
you call for with those lip balms on.
The dropping dupatta they hope for,
with those greedy glares;
their humanity melts with each moment a bit more.

Looking at you, they fall over;
over the corpse of the shattered soul they say you hide.
The life of the dead emotions oozing through your eyes.
Those clichéd tears they say,
you drip out for sympathy.
The lonely longings they wish for,
in those silent deserted lanes;
their humanity melts with each moment a bit more.

Copyright © Sourabh Acharya | Year Posted 2017


Details | I do not know? |

WOMEN

Elegant creatures of nature
Roam around in the world
In search of pleasure and power
But found domination 
Under the shadow of their counter
And as ages pass by
They still remain a prisoner
Bound by the chains of
Family and younger souls

Copyright © anbes rawal | Year Posted 2015

Details | I do not know? |

RIP Virginity

Dear Sir, my innocence is gone now, no more fear 
Do you love to **** me again, I am always here. 
I wonder when you taught me how to use a pen, 
I was so into you but my ****** was in pain! 
I was crying; I was too immature to understand
I was turning only 13, I couldn't feel what happened. 
but I promise I never forget what you taught me at the end. 
I begged you to stop and looked into your eyes, 
there was a reflection of a cruel world, that’s  what I deserved!
Don't be afraid, mommy never knows what you did, 
Nobody knows that you made me bleed. 
Dear sir, my innocence is gone with all my tears,
as I had no safe place to hide myself from fears.
Nobody saw anything as your world was so blind! 
having hidden hatred inside, a virgin died. 
Dear sir, time cannot erase your memories, 
time doesn't heal all wounds, that you marked, 
yes, you took my innocence that will be always on my mind.
My innocent world was shattered by your touch
Hope no one ever has to experience such
For all the pain, all the cruelty, thank you very much!

Copyright © Farhana Akter | Year Posted 2014


Details | Clerihew |

Lynette Squeaky Fromme

Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme,
With Charles Manson did roam.
Tried to assassinate President Ford,
A prison cell was her reward.

2013

Copyright © Kim Merryman | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

DEAR DIARY

Dear Diary,
It's eleventh day of June, I'm about to celebrate my 18th birthday.
But this morning, I don't wanna go out and face the world.
I'm tired, my Dear Diary... I don't have enough strength to tell them my secrets.
It's you and I who only knew this thing, even mom's not aware of it!
I'm afraid that they may not understand, that they may be wrath or hurt me.
You knew, it's been six years now that we everyday talk about it.
And you're the only one that help me breathe when I suffocate.
Six years of unstoppable nightmare, I still recall.
It was 10:00 PM and mom has gone for a party.
Uncle Joe was left to look after the kids and me.
I woke up when I felt the wind passing through my window.
It's a cold dark night, I tried to shield myself in a blanket.
When suddenly an image of a guy entered in my room.
I closed my eyes so tight,then told myself it's a monster from the dark!
But his footsteps moved towards my bed,until a big hand grabbed my mouth.
I grasp the air then try to shout, aloud but he punched me out.
That was so hurt and caused me weak, until I surrendered to his wrist.
Though weak and helpless I felt the pain...
The deep penetration of his thorn to my flesh.
I was left broken into pieces at my very young age.
The most painful moment when someone broke my life.
A night I couldn't forget 'til today that I've grown.
And this evening, I'll be a princess in  a rose pink gown,
The crowd will sure awe while they watch me dance.
I hope I can have the courage to refuse the last hand.
The hand of my step dad who will be my last dance.
I hope I can tell the world that this guy ruined my life.
That he must pay for killing my flesh every night that mom is out!
But today, It's just you and me,  my Dear Diary.
Who knew all the secrets and the faith that I achieved.





written: May 12,2014
Entry to: Anne Currin's Dear Diary Poetry Contest



Copyright © Aiyah de Torres | Year Posted 2014

Details | Epic |

A Woman And Her Pair of Shoes

this is a story of a woman.
work hard for the living.
used to work in the evening.
her face is filled with glitters.
inside the cave of dragons and beasts...

she is my beloved childhood friend.
she made a letter one day we met.
to let the people know 'bout herself.
she left it my wallet one morning,
and this is what she's telling....

she was only 15 when she left our town.
try to experience a life she dreamed about.
she dreams to change her life somehow.
but trouble had came and wreck her life.
thought this man can save her from the dark.

but the wheel of fortune did not fave her.
she was thrown inside the carcel.
she became famous in a world of fools.
dancing alone with a pair of shoes.
naked and wounded, her soul is abused.

too many years passed,
our roads had crossed.
I saw her picture in front of a door.
her hair has colors,her face is old.
I went to witness what a world she holds.

so many people are watching over,
their eyes are glimmer and craving.
I look up and see what's amuse them.
A question risen up in my head.
why is she dancing with just a pair of shoes?

that night seemed long, we drove away.
we felt each moment, our soul had mate.
I've drowned in a passion I dreamed to own.
I wake up that morn, I'm all alone.
holding a letter she wrote all night long.


this is the story of a woman,
wearing just a pair of shoes.
she is not different from you.
she is a princess of her dad.
she's an angel, she must be love.




Written by: Aiyah De Torres
Entry for WOMEN ONLY Poetry Contest

** 4th Place Winner**

Copyright © Aiyah de Torres | Year Posted 2014

Details | Epic |

Fertile Crescent, iii

Fertile Crescent
and Vestigial Conscience

The sun overshadowing my morality
my self- righteousness eclipsed

Where early mans' dawn is, 
Our sun over my left *should* threaten to tinge me if
I pontificate platitudes that fail to connect us to
full stomachs for our children, solid comfort during our elders’ aging and respite needs
 
That McChrystal was sacrificed at the altar
the way Abraham (*pause) to show faith
O yea, my ancient ancestors from Ireland
Maybe they had roots in Celtic lore
Heralding Beowulf’s heroics
And maybe they had someone in some way connected to 
 various seafaring warring factions!
 
Tyranny and takeover spark hatred
vitriolic
blinding rage, like
action- oriented swarming killer bees~
Vestigial, then, is it - our
primordial consciousness?

Weeping flows, but flash floods cannot compare, 
and the burn of fury that hot lava
NO! of liquid molten, from the deepest depths of Earth's core - 
even that cannot compare 
to the condemnation
my foe must assume.
 
With this pen I secure my conduit to the divine, 
My unpretentious foothold here from my pedestal, 
denouncing injustice! 
My spears are fueled
 
Fertile Crescent
Ghosts of pharaohs
Branded timeless in stone
Reigning order
Condemning the vilified,
as it is published by
The Royal Geographical Society:
Syria as the Gateway between East and West
Leonard Woolley
The Geographical Journal
Vol. 107, No. 5/6 (May - Jun., 1946), pp. 179-190)
And why shouldn’t this be so?
 
Beowulf, an earliest epic
Of Old English
How proud and agile to be able
To confer your legacy in written format
Onto your generations and incursions ~
 
Daughters of the American Revolution, 
weren't you early colonists settling in Maryland?
Wasn't The Crown's high noon tea wrought with hypocrisy?

I was wrong when I supposed 
McCongress ordered striking the King's son
off the Dollar Menu, To Go, 
when they showed up at the
Drive-Thru window
 
Morocco & France have tensions
today that sprouted around this very topic, you know.
Everyone has to pay attention to who the special children are, 
from the special castes - it is written and taught in
children's international fairytales 
written by nations collectively-
cultures present their insides
in their telling of morals embellished
inside gripping tales
to their children,
use of cultural symbols and
delectable terms,  the signs all 
lead directly to the diaper room. 
But for this poet, it was the Irish potato famine
forbidding entry into libertine culture.

Copyright © Jen Franks | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

The Parolee

By Angeline Star

The ad stated that
the prospective employee 
should have the ability
to prepare and serve food samples 
using small appliances such as 
microwaves, fryers, skillets, coffee makers 
and knives.

He had a background
with knives.

Copyright © Angeline Star | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |

My Soul Has Been Damned

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)

Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

I fear people

I fear people 
 People who are wearing colorful masks
 Hiding poisoned daggers in their casks 

I'm afraid of people 
 Whom over their head
 Carry the banner of benediction
 Then again at night 
 carry salt to rub on my abrasions 

I am afraid of people 
 Out of their mouths comes mesmerizing words
 An ax is what they are holding behind their swords
 Do you think they won’t break my trusting core?

I'm afraid of people 
 They lie and call it knowledge, 
 do evil and declare it courage.
 Their eyes filled with lust so foul

I am really afraid of these people
 I am so afraid that I crouch and hide in the cellar 
 People’s shadows are dancing on the wall 
 And I tremble and curl myself in a ball

I know it well
 I have to go and buy myself a disguise
 Plus a dagger dipped in malice 
 Shouldn’t I forget to secure a heart of stone 
 Tomorrow I will got to become one of these folks!

Copyright © Rahy Hy | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |

I want to write


I want to write
This time of that cold night
when I heard my mother cry
When I saw her lie
Flat on her belly
Her back bare and scaly
Her eyes swollen
Her right stolen
By one she called husband.

I saw the tears
I saw her fears
she sobbed between the whips
she tightly bit her lips
And tightened her hips
to swallow the pain
just for her stay.

I want to write
this time of that night
that night without stars
when I saw the scars
On her back
the scars stuck
made a permanent mark
on her back.

I want to write
I want to write
This time of my mother
write her as a victim
tortured by male chauvinism.
write her as a strong woman
Who challenged the stress of a man
Mama who raised us
built us
Made us.

so rise mama and shine
All will be fine
Mama rise and shine
All will be fine
RISE MAMA AND SHINE.
All will be fine.

Copyright © Griffins Ndhine | Year Posted 2015

Details | Dramatic Verse |

Forgiveness

I forgave you once, for your behavior
I forgave you twice, for your actions
all the while you're stabbing my heart with a butcher knife
      with Every Strike!
I take a bow
Lord, let me live somehow!
I promise, I'll leave him tomorrow!
I beg and I plead for my life
    As my nose bleeds blood onto the floor
You strike me again and call me a whore!
I can't take it, I gasp for breath as you try to 
    Choke me to death
Something breaks the trance, a knock at the door
"Stay here you evil witch" you whisper as you fling my head to the side
I moan, and I cry, wonder~how could I end up with this type of guy
I shudder when I hear the door slam shut
cuz I know you'll only be nice for a while,
you'll walk around with that pretty smile,
You'll give me hugs, kisses, cuddles and great sex
You'll cook for me, clean the house, take me out
Everyday you're ripping my stitches out
 because I forgive you time and time again
  And your actions Never Change
       You're not a nice man.
And you don't deserve me at my best or at my worst.
You don't deserve my forgiveness;
   so you're getting my curse
2-18-15 for Forgiveness Poetry Contest.

Copyright © Butterfly Mantra | Year Posted 2015

Details | Epic |

Demons in Her Head

She's a seductive Merlot,
wears pearls like a lady
slurps oysters like a sailor
swears like a banshee when
 she can't have  her own say,
tiny bit of sugar, lot of spice
not the type of girl you 
bring home to mother,
doesn't give a bird flip, 
she's tangoed with lions
won't ever be possessed,
she can outrun you
hit a grand slam right
between your eyes,
a fiery dragon and
kitten all in one, 
her daddy used to have 
his way with her, 
can never win her heart
it was tarnished
 many moons ago,
wherefrom demons
    crawled into her bed



Copyright © Paloma P | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Drawing a Line

For Hayley Nutland, a homeless girl who apprehended a man who mugged an elderly lady in my home town

The word on the street is that Hayley done good
A considerable feat for the girl from the wood
She caught him, she taught him, that crime doesn’t pay
She sought him, she fought him, he got put away
There are good folk and bad folk, it’s not always clear
Some folk have a toke, and drink buckets of beer
But at mugging and stabbing, this girl draws a line
She witnessed the grabbing, gave chase, and done fine
So think twice when you say that someone is a zero
Today, doff your hat, because Hayley’s a hero

by Gail


Copyright © Gail Foster | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

JUSTICE ON BROKEN HANDS

She is dancing like a fairy with her long-sequenced gown,

Her long, curly hair swaying as she moves around.

Angels are watching her over the moonlit shadow.

Closed eyes,indulging the melody of playing  tunes. 

A cavalry came in and run her off  on  his horse.

Laid her down to a bed of petals and thorns..---

The shadow started to cruise and moan like a beast.

The heaven cries and mourns for a fate she'd faced.

Her limbs are broken and  can barely stand  on  feet.

And the music keeps on playing, swaying her hair in the wind.

A tiny drop of water wake  her up from an endless nightmare.

The surge stopped moaning and the dawn break his voice.---

Watching a stranger in a very deep sleep,plan was formed in mind.

Vengeance is on her hands,a blazing anger will next explode.

Looking back is  a  breathless and bleeding soul.--


She is wearing her torn long-sequenced gown , stood up strong.

Rain fall down  and washed blood off her hands.

The music keeps playing, the wind blows and pain has gone.



*AiyaH De Torres
WITH THESE HANDS Free Poetry Contest
12/18/2013
Visual 5

Copyright © Aiyah de Torres | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatern |

Guilt

Helpless a girl can do anything
She have the ability to do something
People may think, she always fine
No reason to think that she won't any guilt

Copyright © Mohammad Hafiz | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse |

The Woman in Lace

Leather covered hands 
And a masked face
Onto the surface he lands 
In his sight, a woman in lace

His intentions quite disturbing 
To rip her limb from limb
To the side lamp she does cling 
With a flicker the light became dim 

As a red fluid gushes to the floor
From a stab wound it does fall
Her screams right from her core
As he carried her through the hall

The man hadn't muttered one word
Looked as though his lips were bound 
The thought of escape was absurd 
The woman in lace was never to be found

Copyright © Elain Mangelsdorf | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain |

Happily Broken

Put on the smile no one knows is a mask
Don't think of the questions no one bothers to ask
Take pride in your scars though you bare them alone
Dance, even though you cry when you're at home alone

Smile through your pain and the times that you've bled
Laugh at the demons that march through your head
Never take back the words that you've already spoken
Embrace the fact that you're happily broken

Copyright © An Anomaly | Year Posted 2016

Details | Blank verse |

unreported violence

 Unreported Violence in Vilamoura 

The couple was nicely suntanned, but the woman had 
a black eye, he was very courteous to her tried to hold 
her hand, but she didn´t want to and his face reddened
angrily, so she let him hold her hand. Both were nicely 
dressed on their way to a restaurant; no doubt when 
meeting friends a droll story would be told how she got 
that eye. Polite laughter. Men would believe the story, 
women would exchange glances because in the eyes of 
the hapless woman they saw the truth. They would find 
out- women talk- when they went to the ladies to 
powder their noses. The unlucky one would beg them 
not to say a word. “ He loves me, but has a bad temper; 
and when I nag him he slaps me, it is really my fault for 
not understanding him better. He was so sorry for giving 
me a black eye last night that he cried, promised not to 
hit me anymore.”  

Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

A widow's Chant

Throw me into the streets

And let me eat the dust of the earth

Sound the dreams and strip me with your shifty eyes

Till I lose my mind

 

Shave me bald

And scrap my pubics with broken bottles

Make slaves of my children

Till they become scum of the earth

 

Sing dirges for me while I live

And invite death to dine with me

Starve me,

Till my bony frame scares vultures away


Call me mother of witchery

And burn me at the stake

Let the smoke rise into the skies

Till widowhood is no more

Copyright © Woelinam Dziewornu-Norvor | Year Posted 2015

Details | Haiku |

Haiku

Met end to free us
We are bound everywhere in relations
Disgusted and disappointed we leave.

Copyright © bawa talwar | Year Posted 2017

Details | Dramatic Verse |

STOP WOMAN ABUSE

STOP WOMEN ABUSE

A man saw a beautiful woman 
Dressed in white cloths 
She was going to church
He called her, pretty come to me please
She was well taught by her parents,
And she came close to him. 

He said, I love you precious.
She laughed, ha-ha! Looking at his heart.
He said again, I love you sweetheart.
She laughed, ha-ha! I hear your sweet words. 

My heart says, adorable words 
King, majesty, lord
I can see your sword, 
I have one last word to say, I love you too.
He was so happy,  
He saw the moon,
 And stars around a day. 
   
One year later, she had a boy 
She called him bodyguard
The one who would guard her soon
His husband was always in high dudgeon
No one could stop him 
He killed her by no aim

The boy grew up 
His dad rot in prison 
He had the word to tell the world
Stop woman abuse around the world.

Copyright © Alfonso II Warally Chris | Year Posted 2017

Details | Dramatic monologue |

Malicious Eulogy

   Dry rotted benches all splintered and frail. 
Transparent spirits fill the isles and the air. 
   In the old decrepit church they try to stay seated,
while the Malicious Eulogy is hellaciously completed.
   Out in the graveyard down below, the Demons arise.
The howls of anger, the growls of damnation,
pierce the dark night like deadly cries.
   As they rise from their tombs, the earth starts to split. 
The ground shreds apart like a deep fiery pit. 
   They enter the church, the spirits gather round. 
For they are the Bastards to the God of the Underground. 
   Their hideous faces stare upon the evil crowd. 
The spirits stay silent, they dare not make a sound. 
   One by one they approach the Black Altar, 
bowing before the horned image of their Father. 
   Behind them stands a pillar carefully balancing her coffin. 
Her body lies still, her soul knows not what's coming. 
   As the fiends turn to surround her death bed, 
each one places a sprig of Nightshade neatly around her head. 
   They feel her naked body, her skin's so pale and cold. 
Her virgin soul is what they crave, to them it's as precious as gold. 
   The funeral is over, no one even cried. 
The ceremony begins, Satan's about to take his Bride. 
   His sons proudly look on as the gates of Hell open wide. 
Satan rises to her coffin, his sons go to his side. 
   He gazes at her beauty, to him it's such a shame, 
but his hunger for her virginity defeats him, he's really not to blame. 
   He covers like a cloud of darkness as lightning strikes the church. 
Her soul has left her body, yet her body the Demons will search. 
   One son tore her heart out, another ripped off her head. 
They all feasted on her flesh, their hungers are finally fed. 
   The maiden stands next to her groom with an evil grin on her face, 
Satan smiles back at her, certain the body and soul cannot be traced. 
   The Demons are done feeding now as their mouths drip with blood. 
The ritual is over now for she has united as one. 
   Her soul is his to flourish on for all eternity, 
and it all started with one Malicious Eulogy.

Copyright © Heather Russell | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |

The Shield Maiden

Fierce is she with flowing mane
No stranger to feel or witness pain

Fast she stands with shield in hand
Defender of her sacred lands

And full prepared to bring an end
To any who would dare offend

With shaft of glistening, speeding light
Fired from bow with deadly sight

The Maiden stands tall and proud
Battle Roar long and loud

Before the charge to the front
Shield at the fore to bare the brunt

Hard she strives through the fight
Blade swung hard with all her might

To fell the invader of her land
Return them hence to the sand

Her shield swings high, her parry low
Mastering the battles flow

Copyright © Duncan Treasure | Year Posted 2017

Details | Couplet |

An axed waffle

There's no waffle axed 
by someone flaccid.

Volodymyr Knyr
2017

Copyright © Volodymyr Knyr | Year Posted 2017

Details | Cowboy |

The Scarlet Hussy, Part III

...McClors rode up, and smiled quite thin,
He said,”Woman, get away from him!
You come with me now, and it will suffice.
You play more of these games, and you’ll get the knife.”

“See I’m in no mood for dumb girlish stunts—”
A blast roared out, and McClors gave a grunt.
From the back of his horse the villain did flop,
His chest torn apart from a load of buckshot.

Adam he turned while all sat there stunned,
And found the three lackies with his scatter-gun.
The horses they stomped, the lackies they blustered
Stupidly bunched in one great, big cluster.

The other barrel it was already cocked,
And Adams laid waste to the thugs with one shot!
Two died right quick, and the third man moaned,
Trapped underneath his dead mangled roan.

Adams stalked up, stared down at the man,
He said,”Listen up now, or forever be damned.
It seems strange to say it, amdist this strife,
But I’ve decided  to make this woman will my wife.”

“So I’ll let you live, and run back to the town,
And tell all the people the way things are now.
This woman right here none shall disrespect,
And if I see you back here, I’ll stretch your damn neck!”

The lackie he stumbled and faltered away
Miriam had no words, nothing she could say.
Adam nodded.  “I’d accept your offer,
But I think there’s a better one that I can proffer.”

“If you don’t mind a killer for a husband,
Than you and I will go to Reverend Dan,
Cause I still have a few good kith and good kin
Who wouldn’t approve of us living in sin.”

And so they went down, and so they were wed
And raced to his home, barely making it to the bed.
The mayor later stopped by, still half-rattled with fear,
And said “ ’twas all self-defense!  It’s perfectly clear.”

Now Kline he lucked out with his newfound bride,
She gave him seven kids, their joy and their pride.
And as they years went  by, their pasts they did fade,
Both found some peace in the life they had made.

Though still some townsfolk whispered of her,
But said nothing aloud to avoid Adam’s anger.
From that day at the ranch, till death came in time
She was known simply as: Misses Miriam Kline.

Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2017

Details | Cowboy |

The Scarlet Hussy, Part I

Miriam O’Flynn worked as a fancy lady,
That was not what she had once planned to be.
Orphaned in a crash, at the young age of nine
She learned to do what she must to survive.

She plied her wanton trade at Jacob McClors,
A saloon owned by a man fond of whores,
And wore her red hair all pined up and fussy,
So the townsfolk nick-named her: The Scarlet Hussy.

The cared not for her, they called her perverse,
Turned their nick-name from a joke to a curse.
And even the husbands, with whom she had lain,
Pointed and told all their kids,”Stay away!”

And Jacob McClors often took his pleasure,
He worked his girls hard, no time for leisure.
And if his liquor and whores weren’t enough,
Word is he was thieving, and stealing quite much.

Only one man in town had not come to her
Rancher Adam Kline, who lived at the curve
Of the fast, rocky river outside of the town,
On a plot of range-land, he had settled down.

She’d see him now and then, buying supplies,
And imaged she saw non-judgmental eyes
But she supposed that she was just fantasizing
On the fact that good Kline always gave her a grin.

But McClorshad ambition, and grew in reknown,
And soon had the run of the whole dang town.
When the Marshall died strangely, one winter night
They all knew McClors did it, and was ready to fight

With any who challenged, so the mayor backed away
And the good people just tried to keep clear of the fray
McClors, he grew crueler, avoiding the kiss
Taking his pleasure on his girls with both fists.

On day Miriam fled, battered and bruised
And the good rancher Kline, she quickly pursued.
She found him alone, working his small herd,
And he saw the young woman, desperate and injured....

CONTINUES IN PART II

Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2017

Details | Cowboy |

The Scarlet Hussy, Part II

...“I need your help Adam,”she frantically said.
“If no one will help, I soon will be dead.
I know you barely know me, we’ve not even a lay
But please here me out, let me have my say.”

“McClors is a killer, he’ll kill us all soon
To save myself, this is what I will do:
If you will protect me from McClor’s mad rage
You’ll have your fill of me, each and every day.”

“I’ll cook and I’ll clean, I will keep you house,
I’ll do anything that you’d get from a spouse.
I’ll bear all your children, many or few,
You don’t know the things I can do for you.”

“It may not be the stuff born of dreams,
But I’m not some dumb girl, young and naïve.
Please protect me now and you’ll always find
A welcoming woman to stand by your side.”

Adam shook his head, and offered a frown,
Saying,”You’re better off just fleeing town.
You think I’m a hero, from the stories grand,
But I tell you now, I am not that man.”

“Some would say that I am no better then McClors
For the things that’s I’ve done in the years before,
On long months’ march in far southern climes,
Where bloodshed and death a man’s soul did grind.”

“And more years on the plains, dodging the blows
And the arrows shot, by cunning, red foes.
I have brought death to many…and fear
That’s why I keep to myself way out here.”

She said,”Whatever you’ve done, I understand.
I come not looking for a perfect man.
I offer no more than what you can see,
The willingness of a mere Scarlett Hussy—”

Just then the sounds of fast hooves arose,
And horses flew in, out of a nearby grove.
Jaocb McClors and three lackies did ride,
And Adams he said,”My horse, get behind!”...

CONCLUDES IN PART III

Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2017