Frankenstein Poem by Victor Cruickshank

Frankenstein



Oh what is the news that you now bring
Is it of joy or sorrow?
And now that you have made it here
Can you return in peace?
Although the news with which you bring is not of joy
Why bother come with it at all
It is the death of my own brother
My own William Frankenstein
The waters were placid;
All around was calm, the palaces of nature,
But my own blood during rain or shine
Will never return to me now
Oh at least he'll see mother again and tell her how we miss her
Who killed my boy, my brother, my blood, which killed my dear William
Could he be (Dear God) the killer of my dear brother?

I created him for good not bad
I wanted to teach him to live
But when he wanted to grab me
He scared me and made me ran away
I wondered which way he'd gone but came he not from anywhere
I searched and searched till I knew he couldn't be found
When I saw him at the riverside
I realized he'd killed my brother
I was scared of him, what has he learned, and he could kill? Oh am I safe with him
On that mountain where we met I knew i was in danger
Kill me now! Kill me now! I shouted, why make me suffer in vain

I want a wife he said to me. Give me one or care for me
Never I said, 'Will a wretch like you ever be made again'
He looked at me and I pitied him I promised to make him a wife
And that night after I thought i knew I will make more harm than good
But for many to suffer and die, Oh No!
I will suffer and die alone.
So I told him about my decision but he did not listen “I will be with you on your wedding-night” said He.
Why me? I want you not as my Wedding-guest!
A wedding-guest kills not the groom or bride, the reason why he comes
OH Gracious God, forgive my soul and take me when he comes this night

But nearer and nearer the night drew and there was no sign of him
Something shuttered outside the cabin and I went to check it out
A shout I heard from the cabin oh why? My dear Elizabeth!
Why did he kill her, was it not me that he planned to kill?
And now I remain miserable amongst all men
And now Elizabeth, Henry, Justine and William all died by my hands
And dear Father who died out of sadness I wish Ernest the best in life
Oh poor Justine framed for the murder of William
And dear Clerval, I wish not talk about
My friend and brother who was killed, killed silently
And now I pursue this monster, this villain, this wretch
To take away what I had given him, the life within the body
Even though my time is due, I hope you will kill that wretch for me
I beg to leave now, go to my mother and beloved dead ones
I trust that you will kill this wretch for me
Listen not to him for he is the best talker.

Wednesday, August 20, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: death of a friend,passion,death
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