A Poem for A Tired, Married Woman

I spent all day preparing; I wanted things to be just right; .

I baked, I prepped and I dusted; I wasn’t looking for a fight

But in through the door he came, moody as best I could tell

Why do I even bother? This evening was going to be pure Hell.

But I had dinner ready, as I always do at five.

He sat down and started eating. He barely knows I’m alive

I prepared myself for what’s to come, the insults and the mean stuff

I desperately wanted out of this marriage, please God I’ve had enough

But I knew I couldn’t leave, at least not for a while

I’d have to stay and get a good one in…God, THAT would make me smile

So just like clockwork, the ragging began…I knew just what he’d say

He started in on my casserole. He said it tasted like hay

Next, he said my biscuits were too hard and that they tasted “fake”

He said they were greasy and heavy, too…not like “his momma” used to make

Then, my coffee was mocked and so was my gravy; he even hated my peas

He spat them out and started to gag and said “This is crap! Take this, PLEASE!!”

So, I removed his plate and the insults still came. He made fun of way I clean.

He said, “This house is filthy. My mom would disapprove. Now that lady was a queen!!”

His mom, his sainted mother…that’s all I’ve ever heard.

But I just sat there letting him talk, I’d have the very last word.

“You don’t do this, you don’t do that. You sure as hell can’t make a decent stew!!”

“You can’t cook and you can’t clean, not like my momma used to do!”

Well, THAT was the last straw, I was livid and hurt. This man was certainly no prize.

I stood there, I got so mad; tears filled my big brown eyes.

My mind was spinning, my brain was on fire and my rage was building, too

So, I turned and smacked the shit out of him……

Just like his Momma used to do..



(THE MORAL OF THIS STORY: Stupid, needy women seek out stupid men who need needy women. It often leads to a marriage men in hell.  Why is this the case?   Why not.   Water always seeks it’s own level.

Both genders need to wise up.

On more thing; the much shorter, original version of this poem was sent to me via e-mail and I, of course, dicked with it. I have no idea who the original author is, otherwise I’d give her…or him…proper credit)


  1. I loved the last couple of lines, really what he deserved. It is a sad thing when a poem such as this does actually reflect the lives of so many in the world today. In defense of men, being one myself, I must point out the male in the poem was not a Man. He was an over grown immature jerk, pretending to be a man, simply because of size and age. It takes much more than size and age to make you a man. Hopefully males such as described here will one day realize that. At the same time I hope the Ladies will begin to see the difference and not put up with these jerks.

  2. i don’t get it…i’m going to make my wife get back in the kitchen and go ask my momma what this is all about…

  3. This is why I own a dog –

    He’s always happy to see me. He will eat anything I give him. And I can just stick him in the bathroom if he makes me angry.

    I have taught my boyfriend to sit, stay, and beg, but I’m still working on house training.

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