A blaring, windy, spring eve
Was when I had first saw
Before I was just too naive
Before the winter thaw
A woman so pale her lips could curse
Of bloodied red glow
And beyond her was an ebony hurse
Upon the winter snow
A dress like wind, and hair like fire
Through a gust they both were blown
Around the misty arched spire
Which was her home, hers to own
Her death was known by almost all
The cliff had been her fate
Down, and down did she fall
Unto a stony slate
In her death, though it was peace
A cry so troubled in tears
Heard by every man and beast
Remembered through the many years
The legend mourned, for she was feirce
A woman of love and friendly smiles
Her heart so pure no weapon could peirce
No poison could twist, from any vial
Lost, not soul-less does she roam
She is a friendly mild host
Looking just before her home
Waiting for the Dawn Of Ghost
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125,020 Literary Works • 672,861 Reviews
Alright. I love story poems, and this was a wonderfully haunted one where something dramatic happens. So I like the basic idea. But as a piece of writing it needs a lot of work. The sentences don't make much sense, or they repeat themselves, or they're not grammatically correct. There were some misspellings and the title/last line made absolutely no sense to me. Story-telling poems have a long history with this rhyme scheme, and I think it works very well with this poem, but right now the rhymes often sound forced and the rhythm's off. I don't know what else to say other than spend a few more hours on it going over each stanza individually and improving it. But the poem has potential, and I would love to see a revised version. Keep writing! It's getting there!
-BFG