The prompt for Sunday Scribblings is MOMENT MARY LINCOLN AT FORD'S THEATER
She sat there, loving, petulant, unwise,
by him whose giant shadow through the age
would cast its knobby shape on history's page.
She smoothed her gown, her modish beaded prize
and leaned against him, but demurred aloud,
"What will they think?" "Why nothing," he replied.
Sad prisoner of herself, her boundaries set
at margins of her days, yet her command
could compass his great heart, whose unreined power
had freed the burdened slave; he brooded yet
over the bleeding rift that cleft his land.
Her plump ringed hand held his a final hour.
Phyllis Sterling Smith
15 comments:
Darkly romantic. Somber. Historic.
beautiful words from a beautiful lady...you will love him for all eternity.
It is a tragically beautiful moment to be with and hold a person at their dying, comfort for both of you.
lovely words, well crafted and full of emotion. it was darkly romatic
The worst prison is the one inside your head..gentle and at the same time powerful verse..
Beautifully crafted romantic poem.
So tender. What beautiful words.
Well done, and quite moving...
moving, tender and passionate
Sad prisoner of herself, her boundaries set
at margins of her days, yet her command
could compass his great heart,
Perfect description. And perfect portrayal of a woman spending her last moments with her man yet not knowing it
Nothing cloying or sweet in this yet oh so romantic
Of course I picture Sally Field...
I know the endless loop we play in our heads after losing somebody to sudden violent death. I can't imagine it being a spouse
Sad prisoner of herself, her boundaries set
at margins of her days, yet her command
could compass his great heart,
Perfect description. And perfect portrayal of a woman spending her last moments with her man yet not knowing it
Nothing cloying or sweet in this yet oh so romantic
Of course I picture Sally Field...
I know the endless loop we play in our heads after losing somebody to sudden violent death. I can't imagine it being a spouse
eternal flame of love will continue to burn.
tragically romantic
This is so well done. Mary Lincoln was a sad, demented creature, but the love those two shared shines through this piece.
So poignant and well done.
Madeleine Begun Kane
A most excellent poem with a wonderful perspective! History recorded the rest of the tale.
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