More than equal Story poem for M'lady Lucianne
The Moated Grange beside the lake
stands empty now and desolate.
The Marchioness burnt at the stake
long years ago a gruesome fate.
She ruled the countryside by fear
for she possessed the evil eye.
The locals do not venture near.
No man is brave enough to buy.
Developers have thought to try
Prospect of profits uppermost.
But they withdraw I wonder why
perhaps they fear her angry ghost
The grange is left to slow decay.
The Ivy on its grey stone walls
grows thicker every passing day
and will until the last stone falls.
Few men in living memory
have dared defy the curse she placed.
Upon her house and property.
A curse that cannot be erased.
By prating priest or exorcists
The witches will defies them still.
Years come and go but she persists
No exorcist can match her skill
She was defiant unto death
there was no way she would repent.
Pronounced her curse with her last breath
and swore it would be permanent.
Though long slow centuries have passed
her dying words have proven true.
A foolish legend from the past?
The local folk swear that it’s true.
Was the Machioness a witch?
There’s only tainted evidence
or just an overbearing bitch.
Who went too far and caused offence?
No man shall own that which was mine.
Thus swore the dying Marchioness.
She was most careful to define
the male sex in her bitterness.
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Added by Poetry Lover
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