Blessed with a mad husband

Blessed with a mad husband 

He trumpets

And he shouts,

His quarrels

His confidence and

 His doubts

Her beloved husband

Drooling and drunk

Then to rid the house

Of his stench

She would seek a skunk

His bubbling face

His bone shaking breath

She would conceive

Slowly at times

Feel his forehead gently

To check on his health

But he’d shout

Shout even harder at her

Love is not a symphony

He knows

His hands are all

That moves to show love

Wherever he goes

He drinks

To forget the things

The ones he could not be

Then drinks some more

To conceal the reality

Too blurred to see

He brags

To her, all about

What he has done

She listens and “humms”

Knowing,

There are none

She was blessed!

Blessed with this

Mad husband long ago

Two children on the account

Whose eyes still sparkling

Their father, vigor

He has no guilt

Of not being able

To put up smiles

On his children and his wife

A drunkard he is,

Submerged are his actions

Submerged is his life.