The white lady

THE WHITE LADY

The white lady 

of the shalimar estate

is young, but her tale

very fragile and old

She haunts the moors

'Cause there she stays

She kills the tresspassers

in her gruesome ways

I'd rather die a natural death

than being cut open

by her sharp fingernails

that are crude and brazen

The White Lady 

regards everyone like

they'd caused her grief

Because the way she died

She never received relief

Her husband poisoned her

'Cause he fell for someone else

And she'd never leave him

And he counted the days

Until he became crazy enough

as his lust went unfulfilled

He told everyone his wife's a witch

And her everyone mercilessly killed

And thus she roams the moors

as she'll never salvage salvation

The hate inside her has raised so much

it can cause catastrophic demolition

Author's Note

Again again experiment. Please leave comments. Please, Please, Please...

Reviews

[Emma]

This is a good poem. Definitely fits in with the horror you were going for, especially liked (well not liked but thought had impact) was the fingernail murdering description and if you wanted to emphasise the grotesqueness of the murders you could have described it in more detail: you could literally do a whole poem just on that and how the skin peals away and the blood starting to ooze out and the sounds etc. I don't know it's not really my style.
There is a poem I'm studying at the moment called the Lammas Hireling by Ian Duhig which is actually about witch folklore but I thought that might interest you.
Hope my comments were useful
Emma x