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Madness
January 25, 2015
I dreamt of madness in the night,
of Hamlet and his rictus skulls,
grins like Cheshires on their faces —
of Ophelia and her dancing flowers,
strange truths within her fantasies.
I saw a man remove the dirt
upon his lover's grave.
Whether she be Catherine,
I could not tell, yet who
but Heathcliff would ever dare?
You may say you don't
want to go among mad people,
but ah! Wouldn't you have to be
mad by half – two-quarters at the least –
to dream of us at all?
© Allison H., Vancouver, WA
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This article has 1 comment.
OliviaBaldacci BRONZE said...
on Feb. 3 2015 at 4:44 pm
I really like this poem, the rhythm of your writing is really good and unique.
Just something I thought up when thinking about Wuthering Heights and the madness evident in Catherine and Heathcliff, which also made me think of Hamlet.