I go out walking on the Thames
to temper my extreme concerns
for when I met a gentleman,
he proved not gentle, then he turned
away once he had got his hand
up in the smelly fear that ran;
he got himself up in me grand
and now the curse is lost again.
Oh, lost again, my cursed blood
that proveth I have been made love
to by a scoundrel who'll not stay
and make a wife and mother of me.
Nay, he shall not a husband be
but leaves me to the river ahead
where I must make this choice instead
for how can I go on in dread
Of what is growing here below
my apron; I begin to show!
I cannot have my master know
nor can I to my mother go.
Oh, take me now, you mighty Thames,
and save me from the likes of him
who uses girls who cannot be
expected to raise a baby
Alone! I am, alone, am I!
I wring my hands and go, I cry.
I throw myself upon the banks
and rail against the upper ranks
for I am poor, yet pretty still -
which for a lass is wicked ill.
Now I must pay this dearest toll
to still the one that steals my soul.
And as my body sinks, my soul -
my soul shall rise and go to God.
Fair God who knows an Irish girl's
of little use in this cruel world,
this world that we inherit, us
that get into a mess and thus
he left the door ajar above
for maids and babes, illicit, doves.
Author notes
Annor Killarney, 18, says farewell to the world but dreams of a new era – the Thames is deep; a sweltering July evening at sunset, London, 1893
A contest entry
- a little fun with characterisation by aeolia.
500 points, ended January 5, 12 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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The rhyme is pretty darn good. It fits and it works, and I didn't even notice the rhyme until the second reading, kind of like a TS Eliot poem. And I like the direction you took this in; the Annor in my mind was more hopeful, less wronged, and you definitely made her your own.
At the end of the second stanza, it's a rhetorical question, and thus you need a question mark. But that's the only real nitpick I have for now.
"for I am poor, yet pretty still -
which for a lass is wicked ill."
How sick and true that is! Thanks for the entry & sorry for the wait in commenting.
-cv -
Oh this is too sad
So often the young are not taught of the pain and the fears of the lies they shall encounter in life and in not knowing they feel their life is over .Yet if loved and honesty reigns then they would know humanity makes mistakes young and old but beer take of obnes life for a mistake for in Gods eyes they are still his to hold so dear .Live on and see hetreasues us all and in having faith and moving forward finds those joys never were taken and the love withing you still grows move forward and raise the child and be blessed with his guidance and see by living and now knowing right from wrong you shall be the princess always and forever for the ones who take from angels they are the ones that has to stand before him and explain why they lied to get what they want then leave .
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This is a brilliant poem. You tell a very sad story, and the way you portray the characters, and what is going through the young girls mind is excellent. Good luck in the contest.
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