Anne Brontë

Thornton, West Riding of Yorkshire, England
Anne Brontë
Thornton, West Riding of Yorkshire, England
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A Voice From The Dungeon

Rating: 2.8
I'm buried now; I've done with life;
I've done with hate, revenge and strife;
I've done with joy, and hope and love
And all the bustling world above.
Long have I dwelt forgotten here
In pining woe and dull despair;
This place of solitude and gloom
Must be my dungeon and my tomb.

No hope, no pleasure can I find:
I am grown weary of my mind;
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Carl Roussell 30 March 2018
Perhaps the poet creates their own dreams by putting words to paper. A grouping of words that will let the writer, and maybe the reader, find a different reality for a few moments.
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Lyn Paul 30 March 2018
So captivating and beautiful to read. Must of been heartbreaking to wake from this dream.
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Kevin Patrick 30 March 2018
A life of sorrow and sadness wrapped in quite desperation, this feels like she knows her time is coming fast and is writing a will of her dreams and fears for the world to read. She articulates her psyche with great understanding that even close to two hundred years later it still resonates. A perfect work.
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Susan Williams 30 March 2018
That first long verse leaves no room for misunderstanding. The person talking is done with life. There are dreams, however, that release her from her prison, that make her feel joy again.... but they fade and she is back where she is stuck and the dungeon is darker and more devoid of hope than before. This poem has layer upon layer. Utterly great writing.
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Kumarmani Mahakul 30 March 2018
That world - that when I wake and see Those dreary phantoms fade and flee, Even in my dungeon I can smile, And taste of joy a little while..........impressive expression. Beautiful poem shared.
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Ravi Kopra 30 March 2018
A Hindi/Urdu translation here - https: //
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Ayesha Cullen 30 March 2018
This is one of the beautifully written poems ever!
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Paul Brookes 30 March 2018
The youngest Bronte sister and the one we no little of A great writer and died too young Love her work
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Bernard F. Asuncion 30 March 2018
Such a great write... enjoyed reading??????
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Alas! Alas! That cursed scream Aroused me from my heavenly dream; I looked around in wild despair, I called them, but they were not there; The father and the child are gone, And I must live and die alone. Anne Bronte's poem tugs at your heart strings. A sad poem.
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