THE MADDENING

[serenepoetress]

It was by chance I spied them
beneath the willow fronds.
My sweetheart and another
entangled by the pond.

My stare was held in disbelief
with each vow he did forsake.
Their shameless bouts of laughter
caused my fragile world to quake.

He looked into her wicked eyes,
then stroked her strands of gold,
which thrust a dagger in my heart
as I felt my blood run cold.

They drank of one another
as if to quench a thirst.
Forbidden lips of passion
against each other pursed.

Sorrow turned to anger.
Anger sought revenge.
Against the two betrayers,
my lover and best friend.

Their afternoon liaison
had cut me to the bone.
They made me play the fool,
which I could not condone.

Numb, I stood there weeping
as they mocked my misery.
Unable to turn my eyes away
as though compelled to see.

Sunlight danced across her face.
Gentle winds caressed his hair.
It grieved me so to realize
he thought her far more fair.

It seemed to last forever,
their rendezvous of sin.
Yet neither knew I heard
their plan to meet again.

The image of their union
atop the grass so green
cast my soul in darkness
as I crept away unseen.

Abandoned by true slumber,
I endured a restless night.
Lying beside a stranger
to whom I owed my plight.

I waited there in silence
the morning of their tryst.
Hidden in the shadows
until they merged in bliss.

Shattered by this spectacle,
I found it hard to breathe.
Deceived by those I trusted,
I vowed to make them bleed.

Stealthily I approached them.
My presence still unknown.
Poison surging through my veins;
my resolve as stern as stone.

I screamed in bitter consequence,
“Behold the liar and his whore!”
Both of whom were startled,
fearing what I had in store.

I said, “Fix your gaze upon her.
Look deeply in her eyes.
The touch that made you tremble
has sealed your own demise!”

Towards her then I shouted,
"Your flesh is all aquiver!
Tell me truly, is it lust
or fear that makes you shiver?”

The barrel of my weapon
ached to have the final say.
Unleashed, they felt my fury
as blushing pink turned gray.

The grip of terror bound them.
How they gasped for ev'ry breath.
Crimson stained the meadow
as both were claimed by death.

It happened many years ago.
That day sustains me in my cell.
Judge and jury thought me mad,
which suits me very well.

Nightfall is the only time
I dare not gloat or boast.
For that is when they haunt me,
my dead lover and friend's ghost.

Copyright 2004
Laura Mae Oldham-Brownell

[SilverEyes]

That was intense. The rhytm is hypnotic and that piece was impossible to stop reading. You do wonderful work.

[bloodredtears]

wow...that was ....amazing....the rhythm was so great...a tragic, angry story...great job!

[richie]

exceelent, wonderful Imargery and flow, would go well as performance poetry [have you tried that]
good work richie.

[Mikhael]

hey, awesome. that was beautiful, though long. i was daunted at first when i noticed how long it was, but it's ok because you kept my attention. i especially liked the second to last stanza; it gave the character a lot of.... character.... personality. and also the fourth to last. it almost makes me think maybe something meant her to kill them, something dark and red with horns and a pitchfork... so much for subtlety. good job with this. you tell the story very well without a lot of unnecessary weeping and moaning, the two poetic staples which are almost never managed gracefully. that you can is something to be proud of.

[leash]

extraordinary and captivating work. you managed to easily keep my attention the whole way through(a very difficult task since i cant pay attention to anything more than a few lines at a time.)

excellent read. thank you for sharing with us.