Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,
and you have scorned me. Now you have to pay
for all those aching nights my arms have mourned
your touch, your smell, the pillow where you lay
and whispered words of love. Those golden lies
that kept me hypnotized, made me a slave
to loving you. I see through your disguise .
Be done with love. It’s vengeance now I crave.
Taxus baccata, common graveyard tree.
A meal must be prepared no time to waste.
With added herbs and spices, let there be
no hint of bitterness to mar the taste.
Though wrath consumes, I keep a tranquil face.
Tonight, False Heart, you’ll sleep in death’s embrace.
© Patricia Curtis, 2011
Reviews
This is magnificent. I think anyone who has been deceived in love has this fantasy at least for a moment. I certainly identified with the beleaguered woman plotting her lover’s death. I love the interior rhyme, the rhythm and structure. It’s a chef-d’oeuvre.
Thomas Horton
Patti, remind me never to get on your bad side. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” is one of my favorite lines and provides the perfect introduction to this ‘toxic’ rant. Though I have been fortunate not to have experienced deceit in love, I know many who have and who would relate to this. You have executed (pardon the pun) this sonnet with beautiful rhythm, rhyme and meter. It is truly one to hold onto.
Oh, and in the end, it made me smile. Always a good sign when I read a new poem…
Mark Vincent