158. Peep behind the works of man,

SONNET 158

By JH Sayyar
Peep behind the works of man,
A woman sits behind the array,
Control all moments of hurricane
To guide the mass to the right way
I call you a never-ending power,
Men’s foible I call you Oh! Fair,
Men’s foibles the scent of flower,
But every weakness demands care.
To his own woman everyone slave,
Controls the actions of men’s mind,
None can avoid it coward or brave,
To a pretty woman we are not kind

Listen, hands go to mouth not to ear,
I do call it a woman; man’s inner fear