On frigid nights along the moonlit way
when the trees have a propensity to sway
their dreadful crooked branches shaking
comes the vengeful mistress bent on slaking
a thirst to find her deceitful paramour
who once threw her with abrupt clamor
down a ravine for refusing to bend
to his wish of their relationship to rend
and return to his wife who knew naught
but bludgeoned him to death when caught;
Finding his headstone, the spectre cackles
sounding of a chattering, ill-omened grackle.


Author: redgladiola

Creative writer happily predisposed to flights of fancy. You can find my poetry and short prose at

6 thoughts on “Vengeance”

  1. This poem is a devastating slice of imagined truth. It seems to put aside all pose and leaning. It comes out of the world; shows us the world. Great lines, terrific development, and irrefutable mood.

  2. I love this and I agree with one of your other commenters …this really is very much in the style of Poe who happens to be one of my all time favorite poets. Very well done.

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