Abayatei whipped my buttocks
Saying I did not fasten my door with locks
After I agreed to dance to the tunes of his passion
And he caught me in a flirting action
He stretched his tail and stressed my failure
…saying I wanted to taint his tenure
But the beatings turned into a heating
And the heating turned into a coiting
One his wife chanced upon

She shouted like an unbroken horse
And showed us who was boss
The whole village surrounded us and hooted
Shock making sure our posture was rooted
Then tongues which previously hushed rumours celebrated
Asking for stones from their friends for being vindicated
The sympathies of the people was what his wife stood upon

She faked her cries and puffed
Pretending to be having an asthma attack
She faked her tears and coughed
Others pretending to be having her back
Swords of judgement cut me like a weed
But men looked at Abayatei like a seed
A seed worthy of planting
And so his wife ranted on

How I turned into the bitch to be called a witch
…needing to taste a ditch
Still beats me
When I was pushed to feel the heat as his fury fee
Without knowing him as a taken he
He chased me into a panting
Before I agreed to his love wanting
But the woman must be the witch who bewitched
…even when reality is switched
Still, I have none to bank on

And so I am leaving this village
Where my face is painted worse than sewage
I am leaving this village
Where my presence gives Abayatei’s shadow dignified advantage
I am leaving this village
So I can start a new page
Woe betides a man with a restless tail
Who approaches wanting to, my ship, sail
Afa Djato will hear him wail
Mount Kilmanjaro will hear him fail
Even the Red Sea will see him drown
If society has carved for the man a crown
…as an infidel, the woman must have a plan
And if possible, a gun
And by Asubone, I won’t, for this same fault in the future, wail
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 3, 2021

By amoafowaa

Just a simple Ghanaian trying to find the best in our society. I may be fun, I may be interesting, I may be funny, I may even be foolish or intelligent, but it is all based on the mood in which you find yourself. I believe our minds make us who we are. Know that, pain, no matter its 'unbearability', is transient. Unburden or delight yourself for a while in my writings please. And all corrections, advice and opinions are welcome. Know that you are the king, queen or royal on this blog. :)

4 replies on “THE MALE CROWN”

This is a beautifully sad narrative poem, voicing one of the plights of women; being blamed for having erotic relationships with men whose restless libidinal thirst and lust for endless journeys into tombs of inexhaustible honey will not allow them to leave any skirt untouched, and who would coerce or force or whip women with thorns of threats just to make them (women) open the gates to their paradises.

In the narrative poem, the persona, who is now like a broken glass or a withering flower, is embittered, resentful, and filled with fury of furious fire for being misjudged and being mistreated. She swears to relentlessly unleash the bitterness of her fury on any man that comes her way with the intent of rowing her canoe.

In the first stanza, the persona narrates how the man, Abayatei, who is symbolic of promiscuous men, coerced her into accepting his amorous proposal, using the woman’s freedom to be with the man she wanted to be with, especially as Abayatei is married, as the foundation of blame and her fault.
This situation is not uncommon. Many married men get into relationships with other women but those women are querried and sometimes abused like in the case of the persona in this poem. Their offense is being with another man, who perhaps is going to be their husband. Abayatei, like the many men, blames the persona and uses the opportunity to begin to lower the curtains of her waist.

And this continues until Abayatei’s wife’s eyes grip one of such scenes of sweet repugnance; a scene that could throw one into a deep pit of intense seethe. This is seen in the second stanza.

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