The Curse Of Mary Shelly Poem by Ted Sheridan
The Curse Of Mary Shelly
It is a dig to be remembered
Dark thick and wet in reality
The grave difference in texture
Between life and death
Soft white pillowed silky fabrics
Entombed
In a cold hard metallic and concrete vault
Marked by a stone and a numbered plot
Where embalmed dreams and thoughts
Once so alive and filled with vigor
Escape through the mouths of worms
To be heard by only the dead ears
Attuned to the sound of silent prayers
Red roses dried in a bouquet of growing fingernails
Folded across the pleats of white satin
Concealing the naked body of the virgin
Sacrificed for love
Death of the old ways, has taken on a new love in Lady Frankenstein
And no one could love her more than me...
great poem indeed... you have extraordinarily captured the relevant facts...
Wonderfully done, I like the feel of this and that you actually placed her book into the poem is wonderful. She would of loved this.
The contrast in rich imagery has an almost sensuous feel to it - a powerfully reflective piece. Rgds, Ivan
For those who have only seen the movie version and not read the book, Frankenstein arose not from a bolt of lightning but from the 'dreams and thoughts/Once so alive and filled with vigor' of Mary Shelly. You have used Poe-like macabre images to give her the encore she deserves. I applaude you both. Tom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/18/2024 3:53:04 AM # 1.0.0.1119
The contrast is thoroughly imbued with true feelings.. great!