Poem: Porphyria’s Point of View

An adaptation of “Porphyria’s Lover” by Robert Browning

Ev’ry morning I rose to wake

The lover whose heart I had yearned to take

Forever, it had seemed, I had gone fishing

For the strings of his heart, wanting, wishing.

Finally, finally! My cheeks, my hair

Won him over to my complexion fair.

Yet perhaps he leaned much too far,

A mark on his conscious, his mind, a scar.

I meant no harm, a little girl was I,

Unaware to the damage behind the eye.

So that night, that night, when rain roared high

I fled to warmth from the breaking sky

Into his arms I fled, sitting by the fire

Strung my garments of wet into a heap of a mire

Fixed the flames,

Laid down to rest.

I loved him, loved him so, spread my flaxen hair

About and fro, his eyes pierced into mine, eyelashes thick and full of care.

Yet before I knew it my hair was gathered

And I saw in his eyes a hint of madness

Just a hint, as I was startled to see such a reading

And felt a lace thrice round my breathing.

A weight pulled mine eyes closing shut, my fingertips frail and shaking much

Dear love, dear love, how had I known

How had I known but not found

The solution, before you and I both fell

Deep into this dark pit of a well

Now your breath huffs over mine, stilled,

Your warmblood races against mine still,

As the life leaves my lips

I know not why but beg of you a kiss.