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Gene Williamson

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Lady Scapegrace
by Gene Williamson
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Gene Williamson
•  befofe the big bang--what?
•  wordplay
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•  Alone at the Windy Beach
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           >> View all 258

Her short sad life in 34 lines.

She was born to wealth; nobody noticed.
She grew up unattended;
nobody bothered to speak her name.

She identified with Edith Sitwell,
thought herself a hideous changeling
left on the doorstep by fairies,

believed her manor to be haunted.

She emerged a dark, mischievous woman,
reckless in social amenities,
her only companion an imaginary sister
with whom she quarreled.

Adrift in the absurdity of a Beckett play,
she aged in isolation, surrounded
by weathered books, in a moldy
Gothic bastion overlooking the dunes.

Reading was a passion, a religion; surprisingly,
she preferred English poets of the Romantic period.
Her favorite Wordsworth line: Little we see
in Nature is ours
. She thought

anything written after Keats a waste of time.
We are, cried this doyenne of neglected
literature, overwhelmed by lamplight compositions
accumulated each year in print.

By day she walked the beach cursing the gulls.
By night she accommodated her moody bats.

She moved through the world crabwise, fearful
of confronting herself in the shadows that lay ahead.

Concealed under a towering black hat,
she was a captious hag, ever finding fault
with the indifferent people around her,
her recondite opinions tinged with schadenfreude,
taking malicious pleasure in the misfortunes
of others.
Her misdeeds, alas, were
dependent upon a series of misapprehensions
built on misconceptions.

She took sick; nobody sent flowers.
Her final sunset shed a melancholic effulgence
on the ancient spires of her anonymity.
 
 
 
 
© Gene Williamson

 

 

 

 

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Reviewed by Victoria's Poetry & Voices of Muse 5/4/2008
Good Morning Gene,
Now I am smiling at the very very clever details of this dark romantic & very poetic poematization! Bravisimo!!
I am very curious about her myself, oh how ingenious this poem is!!
"She identified with Edith Sitwell,
thought herself a hideous changeling
left on the doorstep by fairies,
believed her manor to be haunted."

She emerged a dark, mischievous woman,
reckless in social amenities,
her only companion an imaginary sister
with whom she quarreled."

I am imagining the quarrels!!
Embraced ~ Embrassé
Vickie
Reviewed by OnepoetGem *the Poetic Rapper 5/3/2008
great verse describing my mean old mother n law Gene, enjoyed this, thanks for the friendly visit
Reviewed by Debra Kraft 5/2/2008
I just love the final line: "Her final sunset shed a melancholic effulgence / on the ancient spires of her anonymity."
Reviewed by Chantilly Lace (Reader) 5/2/2008
Excellent writing dear man...have a wonderful and safe day...Hugs
Reviewed by Karen Palumbo 5/1/2008
Excellently written to keep one's interest, a tale of inspiration, yet disillusionment, well done...

Be always safe,
Karen
Reviewed by blue soplain 5/1/2008
..the 6th strophe. .. . so concisely contrasted and full. ..of sights and sounds and allegories of shadowlands and . . .. very eloquent yet still exacting. ..
classic
ness



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