Writing

Poetry Reading: The Lonely Bride

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I wrote this sestina along time ago in poetry class. Sestinas need to have the same six words at the end of the verse lines, repeated again and again in different orders. This poem was inspired by numerous fiction pieces, using the words – bride, rain, gown, sea, sorrow and blood. I hope you guys like it.

 

The Lonely Bride

 

Alone at the altar above the cliff tops, sits the lonely bride.

Her veil has been torn, her body soaked, she sits in the rain.

The satin shoes on her feet are caked in mud. Her gown,

In tatters. Below her we hear the crash of waves upon the rough sea.

Tears upon her cheeks glisten against pale skin, proof of her sorrow.

Beside her lies the lifeless groom, his chest stained with blood.

 

The wound too severe to save, her hands now spattered with blood.

Her hair all dishevelled, she no longer looks like a bride.

Widowed before marriage, she longs for comfort in her sorrow.

Now hammering down, all that can be heard is torrential rain.

Bouquet thrown into the depths below, it’s tossed about the wild sea.

Bitterly she wipes her hands on the exquisite gown.

 

What was once a delicate ivory is now a vermillion gown.

Hunted for his crimes, the groom lies in a pool of his blood.

Enlisted into piracy, he commandeered ships across the Irish Sea.

The pirate retired at a young age, to marry his darling bride.

Thunder and lightning bolts strike the sky along with heavy rain.

Her heart split in two, the girl sobs and airs her sorrow.

 

The atmosphere is filled with the sound of torment and sorrow.

Angry and useless, she tears at the tight and constricting gown.

Her frustration turns to tears, that mingle on her face with rain.

The bullet wound fired straight at his heart, still seeps blood.

Alone in her anguish, cries the lonely bride.

The waves rush in and hit the rocks, then return back to sea.

 

The waves call to the bride from the cold and merciless sea.

The pain makes it hard to go on, the unrelenting sorrow.

Merely a young girl, she was formerly a glowing bride.

Dressed in her mother’s attire: it’s now a ripped, soiled gown,

Covered in scarlet streaks of a dead lover’s blood.

The red bleeds down the dress, drenched by the rain.

 

The girl shivers, freezing from the icy rain.

No less cold, she is drawn to the solace of the sea.

Down there would cleanse the girl of her misery and blood.

No longer would she feel trapped in never ending sorrow.

Clinging to her slim body, the cold and heavy gown.

Decided upon her fate, she would no longer be a bride.

The girl stares at the blood, washed away by the rain.

The bride steps out to the cliff edge, and falls into the sea.

People come to aid and see with sorrow, in the sea floats the gown.

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