talmor Talmadge Morath

A take on Robert Browning’s poem, “Porphyria’s Lover,” where the one in mention, Porphyria, gets to show her side of a complex love story.

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The rain set early in to-night,

The pale moon smiling from above,

It shone its light so white and bright,

Illuminating crows to doves;

I looked on with visions of love.

I glide in, see my lover slumped,

Engrossed with the sight at the door,

Speaking no words his throat was lumped,

Ignoring me as I was fore;

Forlorn thoughts enveloped his core.

Thus, I set to making them nil,

My soiled clothes set at the entrance

To the cottage, warmth yet to fill,

We sat so close yet in a sense,

Between us a barrier fence.

I put his arm about my waist,

His fingertips were cold as steel,

The iron touch within my taste,

It was a sense I’d yet to feel;

Not better described than surreal.

I murmured how I loved him – I,

To dissipate his smell of wretch,

A tear rolled down, past both his eyes,

They began to swell – oblong, stretched;

For the bone of love, he did fetch.

It was but a moment, I thought

Of myself with the limp of veil,

Was this a thing that my heart sought?

My emotions began to flail;

On the ocean of hope I sail.

Be sure I looked down at his face,

In adoration, we shared gaze,

Yes! For he too this was the case,

I’d always thought his mind a maze,

Now, my worry replaced with laze.

This moment was ours, ours to share,

Perfectly pure and good: I found

He had begun to stroke my hair,

About my neck, he wound and wound,

I tried and failed to make a sound.

Unbearable was the pain felt,

Not that of a physical kind,

A flower without sun, I welt,

And my heart begins to rewind;

My teeth eroded as they grind.

Where was my love found easily,

Before this horrid act of crime?

I find that he’s put ease to me,

His actions so perfectly timed;

The fall will e’er follow the climb.

The panes of truth are found shattered,

The bones of love are found broken,

The remains, my hope, found battered,

The feelings of hate awoken

Without a single word spoken.

My own? I guessed not how but why,

I hear the caw of moonlit bird

Flying through the depths of night sky,

To the gates of death, he had lured,

And yet God has not said a word!

23 Mayıs 2022 02:59:39 0 Rapor Yerleştirmek Hikayeyi takip edin

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