The Dungeon

From the Minappartamento

In the middle of the night,

We walked the old Piazza

Lit by just a single light,

I could see the Madonnina

Where she overlooked Milan,

But then mia Carrenina

Shivered, so I took her hand.

 

We were headed for the Church

Santa Maria, in the gloom,

That held the first segreta prigione,

The torture room,

It was down below the basement

And forbidden every day,

By the Friar, Alessandro

Who kept sending us away.

 

Carrenina was determined

She had seen the manuscripts,

Telling of Contessa Roma

Last seen heading to its depths,

With her lover, Count Lorenzo

To be questioned there in chains

For the sins of fornication

And adultery, were the claims.

 

They were never seen again, and the

Franciscans would not tell,

In a secret inquisition

They sped wayward souls to hell,

But my Carrenina hungered

To complete her family tree,

It had ended there with Roma,

Rousing curiosity.

 

The Church door lock was ancient

And it snapped with just a twist,

So we ventured through the shadows

Found the door we’d almost missed,

Then we stepped down to the basement

Had to break two other locks,

That revealed another staircase

That was made of limestone blocks.

 

The air was damp and musty

There was mildew on the wall,

But the instruments of torture

Rusted there, around the hall,

There the rack and the strappado

Were like monsters from the past,

But the Judas Cradle caught the eye

Of Carrenina last.

 

There were awful iron cages where

The bones were still intact,

Looking hopelessly below them

As their wives and sons were racked,

But we finally turned slowly

To inspect the furthest wall,

When Carrenina cried on out;

We read, and were appalled.

 

The mildew scraped away to read

Lorenzo, on one stone,

Beside it, one said Roma

And the silence down there groaned,

For we knew that we had found them,

That the Franciscans had lied,

They had bricked them up behind that wall

While they were still alive.

 

There were hammers by the bootikens

That lay all stained in blood,

There were chisels for some torture

Staked in blocks of spattered wood,

So I seized them and attacked the wall,

‘By God, we’ll set them free,’

I said to Carrenina as she

Wept, and clung to me.

 

The mortar had turned sandy so

It powdered with each clout,

And loosened up Lorenzo’s block,

I slowly edged it out,

He lay within a coffin space

His head the closest view,

But on his side, his arm thrust in,

A space they’d left them to.

 

One stone between their coffins

Left a hole between each space,

Enough for him to reach on through,

Hold hands, or touch her face,

But when the Roma block was moved

We saw the state of things,

Lorenzo’s hand was round her throat

Still girt with ducal rings.

 

He’d strangled her, his mi amore,

To still her pain and fears,

When death was stalking both of them

Walled up, and she in tears,

We moved his hand to clasp on hers

Though centuries passed them by,

But as we turned to leave that place

I swear, I heard them sigh!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Relic]

As Quinnfinn remarked: Shades of Edgar Allan, and I agree. Your ability to develop such a good story with words that compliment and describe the scene is professional and done with craftsmanship. Tate Morgan recommended I read your work. I've had the pleasure of reading some of it in the past and I've reviewed a few times (probably under my other name of Palewriter which has been closed), including a review given on another site.

According to Tate on his poem--Peaches, you use a 8. 7. syllable count and I can see that being utilized here. I'm still trying to learn about meter myself and have recently revised some poems though my understanding was always to count the stressed syllables and not just the syllables themselves. It appears I still have more to learn but I've found that statement very helpful.

Your rhymes (perfect?) are very impressive as well and flow so smoothly. I also enjoyed the words like miniapartmento and bootikens. I'm glad Tate recommended your work and I look forward to reading more again. Excellent work.

[quinfinn]

this is mesmerizing! i actually found myself descending to that dungeon complex with the characters and your colloquialism made the atmosphere so much more effective and real. my God man! shades of Edgar Allen! this is brilliant, utterly brilliant!

[Enid Blake]

Very atmospheric, and very enjoyable!

[David Scott]

I'm just stting here shaking my head and smiling at the power and flow of this poem David! Like sitting on the back of a deep river and feeling it move downstream with back currents that by some magic of the physical lwas flow upstream as well...
A very enjoyable read and the artistry you presented sang out each stroke of your pen!
I can not say enough how much I enjoyed this.