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Attempt the Impossible Task!


Broken Angels cannot fly...
There are angels in our lives
Daughters, sisters and our wives
Special women who delight
In our pleasure, day or night
Broken Angels

Much of what I write is in defense of women,
BUT their most effective defense is self defense.

Women are at their most vulnerable when they are alone with someone and their safety depends entirely upon the mental stability and good will of that person.

Unfortunately, many dangerous individuals are very good at disguising their true natures and coaxing some unsuspecting young lady into a
 love affair, perhaps even gaining her hand in marriage before the truth comes out.

Then they can only pray that there is still someplace safe that they can run to!

The first poem is as I originally wrote it.
It was a spontaneous creation while I was communicating via a web site's bulletin board.  Afterwards  I realized that I had all the elements
of a traditional sonnet in the Shakespearian form except for the ababcdcdefefgg rhyme scheme.



We can find our Angel's faces
In some unexpected places!

(This is a true photo - no computer tricks!  This ring was my fiancee's gift to me after I had insisted that she NOT spend the money upon a similar gold ring.  My unexpected reward was being able to capture her reflection and this photo before she had it inscribed to me!)
The Photo was taken in a public market in Krasnodar, Russia - February, 2000

Picture This (I think you can...)

 

And so he pretends to be your lover

'Til his subliminal rage takes over.

Anger and resentment builds, blinding him,

His anger is bright and his wits are dimmed.

He blames you for his own ineptitude,

Resorting to brutal acts and language crude,

And suddenly you become his victim,

Used, battered, abused and accused by him,

You protest and he becomes more irate

He says women lie and he's filled with hate

Where you needed love, the back of his hand

Is what you get, so run while you still can!

You do not dare follow where he has led,

For if you cannot run, you'll wind up dead!

******************************* 

Rearranged in the Shakespearean Sonnet form...

 

And so he pretends to be your lover,

But blames you for his own ineptitude,

'Til his subliminal rage takes over,

Resorting to brutal acts and language crude,

 

You protest and he becomes more irate

Anger and resentment builds, blinding him,

He says women lie and he's filled with hate

And suddenly you become his victim,

 

Used, battered, abused and accused by him,

You do not dare follow where he has led,

His anger is bright and his wits are dimmed

And if you cannot run, you'll wind up dead!

 

Where you needed love, the back of his hand

Is what you get, so run while you still can!

 


Karl Stuart Kline (
4/18/08) (4/19/08)
The poem might be changed, but the message bears repeating!

>^.Karl!