Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Bad Poetry

This is a bad poem I wrote a while ago when I thought there was not a chance I would outlive ms.


Hush, old woman;

You gave me your body,

Your lashes when curly;

Your cheek when smooth,

Hush, old woman,

It is no longer early.

Hush, Hush, old woman;

You gave me your troth,

When I lied, when I lay

In the depth of my sin;

Hush, old woman,

On wake’s wedding day.

Hush now, woman;

You gave me my babies,

Tendered in pain;

Bawling, squalling, noisome brats;

Hush, but woman,

All anon gone again.

Hush old woman;

You gave me your youth,

Wasted wakefulness,

Breath, time; My wickedness;

Hush, old woman,

It is done, long-tooth.

Hush, old woman;

You gave me your tear,

Fear, and pure ivor’ prayer;

I lay in a ghost of your pain;

Hush! Hush woman,

Not now long, He deign.

Hush, Hush! Hush, old woman;

You give me a black dress,

White face to the sky;

Fain whisper your incense

To Purgatory;

It is over; And may be for ill,

But accomplished: lowly test;

Now hush, old woman,

And go to your rest.

No comments:

About Me

My photo
I'd be a blackguard and a cad, if I weren't so ineffectual. The less said "About Me", the better.