The lady in Raynham Hall
Came down from the lair
Of the hungry shadows
That feed on tangled passions.
Her misty figure tall and gaunt
Descended the wide staircase,
Her feet not ever raising
The lingering dust of ages.
A furtive camera clicked,
Her flowing gown revealed
But hers only is the grief:
A prisoner in time's wheel.
The lady in Raynham Hall
Walks all alone again
Her endless promenade
Through labyrinths of time.
None but a cold glass eye did pry
Into her lonely strife.
Her lips seemed to utter a silent plea
And the world looked on in disbelief.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I SEE HER! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! NO, not on this page. i see her every time i walk in our cow pasture at night, during a full moon. we don't have a cow pasture btw. i liked reading the poem, though it is a bit poetic for my simple taste. yeah, quite artsy! i'll get this 'into' the JULY ALMOST-ALL-MALE showcase soon. my new format for accessing poems in my/our showcases is explained before the list of this month's poems, all of which are meant to be by 'males', except one poem by Lyn Paul. bri :) below, i suspect ol' Stuart meant love with me. who could expect her to! ? and Rod had to come back with a SILLY response to Stu's silly comment. :)
Uh, don't know.... I thought Stu's comment was witty (mine was DECIDEDLY silly!) .