Black Widow

The recent widow, dressed in black, Her husband she has buried.
She hides her face with a veil, Her grieving won’t be hurried.

Her posture is a sad one, Her shoulders hang down low,
She has no strength to raise her head, And so she lets it bow.

She wears the clothes, all dressed in black, They call the widows weaves,
A certain sign for every one, To let them know she grieves.

But somewhere underneath it all, We can not see, the smile,
If any men knew, what she’d done, They would run a mile.

The husband she has buried, His life she had to end,
All his money she had spent, And No more would they lend.

The only way to end her plight, So that she could now, move on,
Was for him to kill himself one night, Leaving her all alone.

She had to find a cunning plan, An alibi, they couldn’t break,
She had to kill the man stone dead, So poison, she put in his steak.

She left him for the weekend, So by the time that she got home,
She would find the body laying there, It would be as cold as stone.

She wrote a letter, telling her, “This life I can’t defend,
And even though I love you still, My life I have to end.”

She put it in a pocket, So someone else would find,
The reason why he had to die, And what was on his mind.

She took a moment to compose, Then she began to scream,
And after she had called the police, She went into a dream.

“Why did he have to do this?” Was all that she would say,
The policeman tried to comfort her, When they took the man away.

And from that moment onward, They were the only words she said,
Then to make it look convincing, She took straight to her bed.

But as she lay there in the dark, When everyone had gone,
She started laughing to herself, At this terrible thing she’d done.

And, So the story had been sewn, They all believed the letter,
People came to visit her, So she pretended to feel better.

Then came the day they buried him, She found he was well loved,
They all sang songs to say goodbye, And released a pure white dove.

And at the party, at his wake, She started a web to weave,
To catch another husband, So she wouldn’t need to grieve.

Then she looked around the room, From under her widows veil,
To find another husband, Another victim to assail.

She saw a very quiet man, He didn’t have much to say,
He had kept on watching her, She noticed, through out the day.

She decided to wander over, To talk to this quiet man,
He said, “Hello my name is Stanley. You don’t remember who I am.”

She agreed she had no memory, But she liked him all the same,
She was sure that it would come to her, So they played a little game.

Then when it came to leaving, He kissed her on the cheek,
They agreed to see each other, Maybe once or twice a week.

After several months had passed, And Stanley now felt sure,
He went back to the widows house, And knocked upon her door.

“Oh Stanley, how wonderful,” the recovered widow said,
“ I expect, you’ve come to ask me, if now, we both can wed. “

But Stanley just looked at her, And choking back the tears,
“No, I am here to arrest you, You’ll be put away for years.”

“Do you remember who I am? Do you remember that day?”
“I’m the policeman who held your hand, when your husband they took away”

And as she looked into his eyes, He saw the light turn on,
“Yes……., I remember now, You stayed when everyone had gone.”

“Yes I heard you laughing, you laughed with all your might,”
“You laughed ’cos you had killed him, You laughed all through the night.”

“I guess I can’t deny it,” The widow began to sob,
“But what made you take so long, for you to do your job?”

“Just for a tiny moment, I thought that, I loved you,
So I hoped everyday, that it wasn’t true.”

Just then another police car came, to take the widow in,
“I almost let you get away, but the criminal must not win.”

So the moral to this story is, if you think you have a hunch,
Don’t be taken in my friend, you may end up being lunch.

Black Widow

Trace Henham

Joined November 2008

  • Artist
  • Artwork Comments 10

Artist's Description

Black Widow
Having consumed her last husband,
The Black Widow,
Sets the bait for her next meal.

Artwork Comments

  • oddpoet
  • Trace Henham
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  • Trace Henham
  • Andrew Price
  • Trace Henham
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