Poem: Oh, That I Were a Man

Oh, that I were a man and could be
A thinker of great things, I could see
The universe in existential glory,
History in form of linear story,
Politics in terms of how to vote,
Passion and upon whom I should dote.
I could sit hours away with only Brandy
Thinking of what tool would be handy
To mend a shoe, though worn in appearance,
Allowing my toes much room for clearance.
I would smoke cigars - and enjoy the taste,
I would never think about my waist
When portioning the meat on my plate
Or whether the evening had grown too late.
When taking a stroll around the garden
I could allow my mind some pardon
And place its troubled thoughts to rest
Thinking of nothing - my, that would be best.

If only my mind could see a line
From start to finish with some time
Left over to smoke, drink and eat
Without the reminder of my feet
Itching to finish sewing,
Or aid my rose bed growing,
Or awaiting a tender touch,
To prove I am loved much.

Instead, I cannot help but feel,
And feel I must, for it is how I deal,
With matters ranging from the mundane
To thoughts on the brink of the insane,
All tangled in a web of doubt -
For I cannot pick one out
And place it on the page for solving –
The thought keeps on dissolving.
And while I ponder some new drama
The men have donned their armour
And have set to work the beast,
The reward – a midnight feast.