A Poem for Miss Strong
March 17, 2015
Built like a box, strong as an ox, knows how to work with his hands,
Tough as rocks from his dome to his socks—such describes the “typical” man.
We men take pride in our ruggedness, might, and reliability,
Which is our excuse why we get our nerves wracked by strong women, you see.
When we cross an independent gal, our minds admittedly snap.
We’re so used to damsels in distress that the notion we find hard to wrap
Our fragile minds around, which thus leads to us questioning
Our own security, masculinity, and, in short, sense of being.
We thus get our dander up and try to be better than these ladies,
Only to fail and fail again and curl up crying like babies.
Folks call that idiotic and painfully insecure,
Saying we should be thankful for such gals, so self-reliant yet demure.
After all, they help the world as we know it go ‘round
From the skyscrapers of Tokyo westward to Sitka Sound,
For don’t you think things would be dull if it were only men
Running everything nowadays just like way back when—
If men owned all the businesses and held each office of power
With women as their secretaries making just eight bucks an hour
Or staying at home tending to their kids and doing chores all day?
Honestly, with the way this world works, would that fly today,
Considering just how fast-paced and driven this world has been
In recent decades, day by day, leading up to the shape it’s now in?
Where’s the practicality in that, I ask, pray tell?
How will that model guarantee this world doesn’t go to Hell,
Especially with stress and other crap claiming life after life—
Not only of women, but men as well? What about all that strife?
Besides, with Earth’s population large as it is overall,
Even on just a national scale, wouldn’t you think, should mankind fall,
That womankind would step up and help regain control
Rather than cower in the corner and slink out the door,
Allowing what’s left of society to crumble into dust?
Wouldn’t that be a slap in the face, even to men like us?
Don’t you think we deserve women who compliment our lot
Rather than the same old caretakers, assistants and sexpots,
All forged in the same factory, no ambitions of their own,
All assembled on the same conveyor belt, mere mindless drones?
Such isn’t the kind of woman who personally stirs my soul.
Rather, ‘tis she who’s not afraid to buckle up and take control
When the going gets rough and things get tough and require guts and skill.
That’s the kind of woman who gives my hardened heart a thrill—
The kind who doesn’t need a man, but deserves one anyway
And might even take a liking to one like me one day…
Or at least I can hope, depending on how I can stay
Secure in my own humility, should Miss Strong come my way,
For yes, we men need to be needed. That I won’t deny,
But I’ll be damned if I let an independent gal pass me by
All ‘cause I wreak of petty insecurities like many others.
I want equality ‘tween the sexes. Forget the damsels, brother!
As for all you Miss Strongs out there, please forgive my fellow man
For acting all jealous of you simply because you can
Do so much without their help. It’s all just intimidation—
Nothing personal against you. They’re just fearful of their station,
And should you each want and find a man to share life with, hey—
There are plenty of us who respect your lot. Feel free to come our way.
Author Pages: Smashwords.com