Friday, March 17, 2017

JH Sayyar's Sonnets

158
Peep behind the greater works of man,
A winsome woman sits behind the array,
Controlling all moments of the hurricane,
To guide the miss-guiders to the right way,
Woman I call you a never-ending power,
All small men’s foible I call you Oh! Fair,
The weakness of men the scent of flower,
But every weakness demands a lot care.
Ah! To his own woman everyone is slave,
That controls the actions of men’s mind,
None can avoid it the coward or the brave,
But to the pretty woman we are not kind

Listen the hands go to mouth not to ear,
I do call it a woman and nothing my dear.