
Tara Minshull
He’d peered so often into her coffin-shaped heart
Ironed the delicate black veils unaware
Was it he that would become a widow or she?
Their love was as smoke divesting each lung requital
They exchanged souls with the passing of pens
Her ink staining his journals from end to end
When drowning she held him by the throat
Her beak as eviscerating as a diamond
His blood despairing amongst her tears
His pulse swallowed up in her screams
He did not want that time should pass
The hours being already too thin to breathe
He sensed long her exit but could not reconcile
In his heart the method of departure
The futility of his own hands to steady her
Was far too permanent a conclusion
The clock became an anvil
Hammering each inflection
Sparks wafting impotently
From the papal white
Of its loathsome face
The threat of forfeiture
A weapon capable of splitting
Even the most obdurate husk
His ego had being unwilling to grant
That love was not as compelling
As murder for which the outcome
Was either evident or irrelevant
He would not call her broken
To say as such might diminish
The supremacy of her talents
One might say that the earth
Was a station through which
All odysseys must briefly pass
Who could judge the distance
Of one so adept at propulsion?
The sky shall not surrender her
Having attached adroitly its hooks
He shall have to be satisfied
With the stars through which she
The quintessential heiress gleans
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I took on Bianca’s challenge which you can read about in more detail by checking out the link here
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I am not sure what compelled me to take on Ted Hughes. His work is well out of my league. I listened to this poem. You can see I used he and she as he has done. I also decided to embrace his subject material aka the suicidal wife. Hell I even tried to delve a bit into his style. I am not sure how convincing of a mimic I am. I thought about doing a fellow blogger but I am a little scared that my feeble attempts might be insulting but if anyone would like me to attempt them let me know lol