The Duchess Portrait
There she is looking so pretty
She was the duke’s wife
My thirst for her is increasing
I lust for her as I look
But can I have her just to touch the edge of her garment?
Now, he comes roaring as usual even when the palace is silent
The memory of her death is my back
My stare at the picture has done no justice to bring her back now.
Though I have done that a decade.
Did he strangle her?
The duke’s wife was very tender even to the grass.
As the Lord of caster bridge
No one will question him
The portrait gives us all
Joy to know that her death
Most be avenged by her little prince.
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Comments about this poem (The Duchess Portrait by CHIKA OGBONNA )
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Alfred Lord Tennyson
(6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(30 October 1885 – 1 November 1972)
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