Christabel LaMotte

Inspired by A.S Byatt's 'Possession'

 "The curse is come upon me,"

She cried,

Now all that’s left

Is engraved on my mind

“The stones I shaped endure”.

For that curse there was no cure...

 

You wove a web of tales

And I watched in the mirror

Only ever seeing half the picture

 

I cried

On Tennyson’s Wolds

For mourning

Do not let the sun startle the sky...

 

Under the brambles you lie

And this pastoral scene

With its evergreen

And skeletal leaves.

With you, chaotic, confused, coarse

And perfected under budding gorse

Crumbling into the earth.

Reviews

[Sami Khalil]

A nice poem.
I like :
The stones I shaped endure.