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Jane M. Wallace

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The Legend Of Hannah Duprey
by Jane M. Wallace
Monday, March 19, 2007
Rated "PG" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Jane M. Wallace
•  A Child's Dream
•  They Dared
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           >> View all 23

Some people want to be legends. Some only want to write about them.

Legend says way back in a Florida swamp,
stands a three room, snake infested shack.
Alligators sleep on the front porch steps,
while possums live,on the porch out back.

Spanish moss hangs from the Cypress limbs
and everything seems stagnant and old.
The swamp is filled with creepy, crawly things
and the place stinks of algae and mold.

Frogs hop while turtles cling to fallen logs
and mosquitos are the size of bees.
At dusk, bats suddenly make their debut,
as the vultures keep watch from the trees.

Evening decends and fog comes rolling in,
as the full moon starts rising real slow.
The place vibrates with unearthly noises,
while the swamp takes on, an errie glow.

In the shack lives an ugly old woman.
Some say her name is Hannah Duprey.
Many think she has lived there forever.
Rumor says, she will not go away.

Folks say that Hannah is an evil witch
and she was cursed by a Gypsie king.
Under her spell, the king's son fell in love
and quickly gave her a wedding ring.

On a spring day, of the very next year,
when there was still no child in her womb,
she killed her husband,then ate his heart
and the swamp became his watery tomb.

The horrified king soon found the body.
There was no easing his misery.
Pointing a finger he said to Hannah,
Now and for all time, I will curse thee.

Without mercy you killed my only son,
because he could not father a child.
A babe you planned to give to Satan,
to seal a pact so wicked and vile.

Never will you again, cast a love spell.
If you try, you'll grow ugly and old.
No man will ever lie in your foul bed
and a child, your womb, won't ever hold.

Because you tried to hide my son's body,
burying him in this lonely place,
the swamp is where you will forever dwell,
never to live near the human race.

Since you have devoured my dear son's heart,
s specisl curse, I this day,do make.
For eternity, when you need to eat,
all you'll get, is the heart of a snake.

It's hard to know if this legend is true
and difficult to tell how stories start.
All I know, is while fishing in the swamp,
I found a dead snake, minus its heart.

Jane M. Wallace at Author's Den
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Reviewed by Regis Auffray 3/31/2007
A captivating poetic tale, Jane. Once again, I appreciate the images and the attention to meter and rhyme pattern (abcb). Thank you. Love and peace,

Reviewed by MaryGrace Patterson 3/19/2007
Great Job Jane.. I never did finish writing the music for this poem...........M
Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner 3/19/2007
WOW, Jane, this one is creeeeeeeeeeepy! Legends are made from tales such as this. Flows perfectly, would make a perfect ghost story 'round the ol' campfire. :)

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.

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