Monday, March 12, 2012

Palely Loitering

supplied the prompt


The townsfolk look at me askance,
Avoiding, when they get the chance,
Someone odd and solitary,
Who used to be so bright and merry.
Ah yes! So deep is my depression,
I'll ease my soul with my confession........
Ann and I were so in love,
Swearing by all the stars above
That we would love for evermore,
Each year more and more and more.
The townsfolk watched us as we strolled,
Each with a loving hand to hold,
Stars in our eyes and full of joy,
A local girl with a local boy.
At last our wedding-day was set,
And everybody that we met
Wished us well in heartfelt phrases,
And we enjoyed approving gazes.
The day before we two were wed
Ann was alive, though now she's dead.
In the woods we took a stroll, 
Heart to heart and soul to soul.
Suddenly, in a leafy dell,
We came upon the old village well,
Quite disguised and overgrown;
A passer-by would not have known
That it was deep and black and wide!
Certainly not my little bride!
'Let's make a wish!' cried Ann with glee,
Suddenly pulling away from me.
'Come on!' she called, all sweet and bright!
Then she tripped and fell.......into endless night.
My powers of speech deserted me.
The townsfolk searched for her ceaselessly!
The wedding breakfast remained uneaten;
I was broken, bowed and beaten.
Time went by; I could not admit
That I had been the cause of it.
I should have held her hand more tightly;
I was accused, and, I felt, rightly.
Her death remained a mystery
But not to me, but not to me.
When the moon is at its brightest,
Big and round and at its whitest,
All alone in my private hell
I pay a visit to the hidden well.
And I do the only thing I can......
I lean and say 'I'm sorry, Ann.'


'Inevitable separation'
Gives the lie to the very word.
No lovers are truly inseparable;
The idea is absurd.
How ever closely-knit you are
To the one that you adore,
There are clearly many, many times
When one walks out the door.
The desire not to be separate
Is another thing again;
To be so utterly dependent
That each parting gives one pain.
One can, I suppose, be conjoined in thought,
And some have learned the art;
To be 'together' mentally,
Though physically apart.
The other side of the coin
Is less pleasant than one would wish!
To be apart though together........
That's a very different kettle of fish!


Helen said...

As always, beautifully composed!

Berowne said...

As usual, a fine, well-written tale created in iambic tetrameter. Remarkable...

Wayne Pitchko said...

nicely done...thanks for this

Carrie Van Horn said...

You certainly are a crafter of words RR!!! Amazing writing as always!

Silent Otto said...

Perhaps she left him for another woman , ? , eventually he will mend his naught ways! . Great poem