Woman of Stone

I saw her first by the apple tree

Where she picked the ripe red fruit,

Her auburn hair in a twisted coil

And a crinoline to suit,

I saw her eyes as she turned to me

Two azure pools, afloat;

But they didn’t hazard a glance at me,

Not even a single glance at me,

She didn’t venture a glance at me

As my song died in my throat!

 

I lost control of my heart that day

I could neither eat nor drink,

Though I felt my substance fade away

I was too confused to think,

And a fever took me, by and by,

I took to my bed, a week,

But she never came to visit me,

Not even a thought to visit me,

I’d have given the earth to visit me

While my spirit lay so bleak!

 

She had a million suitors then

And she turned them all away,

They said that the grass was dry and sere

In the meadow, where she lay,

She made it known she was quite content

In life, to be left alone,

She hadn’t the need for men, she said,

Not even one special man, she said,

‘I’d rather be left for dead,’ she said;

They called her: ‘Woman of Stone!’

 

She taunted and teased, quite merciless,

She treated men with contempt,

She’d flutter her painted eyelashes

In the Halls of the Regiment,

And many an Officer fell for her

In his red and his golden braid,

‘I never did like a uniform,

Too bad, you’re wearing a uniform!’

She’d turn her back on a uniform

And she’d smile as she walked away.

 

They said she’d been left at the altar

When she was barely seventeen,

She’d chosen a young subaltern, who

Renewed his vows to the Queen,

His regiment marched away that day

To the fields at Waterloo,

He carried his musket high with pride

Then tramped in mud through the countryside,

His blood was scattered both far and wide

When the battle was finally through!

 

I started attending the balls where she

Was teasing and taunting still,

I never was much of a dancer, but

I can foot a mean quadrille;

I tried my best to ignore her there,

Danced gaily round with a friend,

Whenever we’d meet, I’d turn away,

Look anywhere else, but not betray

The hints in her eyes or her body’s sway,

And I’d leave before the end!

 

The number of balls was endless when

The soldiers came marching home,

They feted the Duke of Wellington

For beating the Frenchies own;

And still I tried to avoid her there

This Caroline Ainslie Stack,

She’d follow me round the ballroom then,

A dancing card and a thrust out pen

But I wouldn’t sign, again and again,

Her eyes turned slowly black.

 

She caught me up in the village street,

She backed me against a wall,

Then said: ‘It’s not a man but a mouse

Won’t dance with me at the ball!’

I shrugged and murmured, and took my leave

She followed me all the way home;

I tried to remember the things I said

That night, it rattles on through my head,

I found her lying across my bed

Without a stitch of her own!

 

We married, back in the spring this year,

Caroline’s starting to show,

She holds my arm on the way to church

And she greets with a warm ‘Hello!’

I’ve never told how I fell in love,

How she cut me, clear to the bone,

But on evenings here, as warm as this

I can taste of my woman’s magic kiss,

And she tells me: ‘Dear, we live in bliss!’

She does - my Woman of Stone!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[cynthiabuhainbaello]

Wow- what a love story! I marvel at your excellent skills and language expertise in narrative poetry and they are a treasure to read. Each piece you have written so far have been short stories written brilliantly on poetic form - which takes time and diligence to do! Thanks for sharing your marvelous work here for us to read and enjoy!

[julespinkyd]

Woman of Stone has to be my favorite since i been here so far. For some reason I think of "The Bells". I really enjoyed this one.

[Amila Jay]

A very remarkable write. I enjoyed every line of it. Beautiful poem :))

[Dayran]

I might have gone my entire adult life without coming across love's game of cat and mouse, the way your poem brought it out again. Like a tango across the Australian landscape, it pushes and tears with its nails in a silent glare, until it comes to the customary back-against-the-wall where in a eyeball to eyeball encounter, it speaks its first words of want.

It was my pleasure to have read and reviewed it. A great retelling of a passion that only seeks to conquer and will not submit.

[Otsana]

Firstly I must state that you have an amazing talent! I enjoyed every minute of this wonderful piece of art, the lines flowed so easily, it was like magic. The story in itself kept me engaged and wanting to read on which not every writer can do. The 'women of stone' is to me every single women I know who has been hurt, but it only takes one man to break that hard exterior which we put on to protect ourselves. Amazing work, I loved reading it.

[A Wanderer of Dreams]

That was such a sweet poem! I can understand why a woman would project that she was "made of stone." She appears this way so that she may carefully choose a man who can tend kindly to her heart. I was drawn into the natural flow of our lines once again. Thanks for the read!

[*** Hey Jude***]

WoW, it has been to long since I visited you page. Your gift, and obvious growth through out the years shows in this work of art. It reads with almost a melodic flow that effortlessly pulls me from line to line with anticipation of what is to come. You are an amazing writer, as well as an inspiration to many! Thank you for sharing your gift! ~ Jude :-)

[Valentine]

I love when you bring us Great Britians history in your writing..a gem..loved it and the ending..love Kathie

[SINDE]

Coming from you, I'd say this is different in a very interesting way. I flowed with it all the way and I was in it. You are a great writer. Thank you for the twist. Now that's prowess.

[Tate Morgan]

lol Oh how i can relate.So true is this of the other sex and of us as well.We want what we cant have Like a dog chasing a truck I doubt most of us knew what to do when we caught it