Post Mortem

My brother sits on mother’s shelf
In sombre hues of grey
Like flower plucked and soon to fade
But captured for a day

The wringing hands and ceaseless tears
One week stretched out for many years
But jealous fortune would not yield
and Jacob died a month today

My brother was a perfect joy
born on the 4th of May
His face was like an angel’s doll
in almost every way
But now in silver gelatin
His lifeless eyes are glazed
The image captures nothing of
his spirit, bright and gay

But rather seems there is a glint
of predjudice in place
of love and trust that was his way
I fear to look, I fear to stay
Is it only my unsettled mind
in truth I cannot say

I heard the servants muttering
“That picture gives me chills
I’ll no more stay in this ‘ere house
I’m leaving, so I will”

The clock moves not, the shadows creep
Our mother no more cares to speak
But sits in front of brother’s shelf
And mutters madly to herself
Now no-one in this house will sleep
Till Jacob goes away.


Garth Horsfield

Post Mortem by

I was creeping myself out looking at Victorian post mortem photography, the fashion of taking pictures of dead loved ones… I scribbled this gothic poem and creeped myself out even more thinking about it. I’ll have to do an art piece to match it one day.

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Tags

gothic, mortem, poem, post, victorian

Comments

  • Paul Compton
    Paul Comptonabout 4 years ago

    The first line is chilling and the ending more so. I adore Victorian memento mori photographs. Very haunting stuff, Garth.

  • Ta Paul… like I said, I kind of creeped myself out with that vision.

    – Garth Horsfield

  • nannamanson
    nannamansonabout 4 years ago

    I love your poem. Nothing creeps me out 8-) I happen to really like post mortem photography and have a collection. This site has more than I have ever seen – check it out –
    www.thanatos.net

  • Oh thanks for the tip nannamanson. I get an odd feeling looking at those old pics and seeing the harshness of people’s lives in their worn faces. It’s all very gothic, in the true sense of the word.

    – Garth Horsfield

  • TLeeHoney
    TLeeHoneyabout 4 years ago

    very Edgar Allen Poe in its timing, Garth … creepy yet poetic – the last stanza is chillingly succinct ;o)

  • Thanks TLee. I don’t write very much, but now and then I get the urge to break out some candles and gloom myself out :)

    – Garth Horsfield

  • TLeeHoney
    TLeeHoneyabout 4 years ago
    Heheh! I love indulging in those moments – rusty, dripping pipes, chilled air and steaming bath, dark but for the quick flickering of candles shadowing catherdral ceilings… oops, sorry delightfully glooming m’self out!!!! Love it! ……
  • hehehe

    – Garth Horsfield

  • jomash
    jomashabout 4 years ago

    Great insight into the deepest pain.

  • ModernMythology
    ModernMythologyalmost 2 years ago

    You have such empathy.

  • Iris  R
    Iris Ralmost 2 years ago

    I love what you did with this. It is kind of creepy but it also shows feelings, true feelings of what is felt upon a loved one’s death. I agree with the others, very Edgar Allen Poe.
    Iris