Wuthering Heights - A PoemHer ghostly presence still haunts his dreams,Wuthering Heights - A Poem11 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
the central force behind his schemes.
Each decision is carefully planned,
maneuvered by her cold, dead hand.
The seeds she planted long ago
have only now begun to grow;
they germinate slowly at first,
sprouting with an unquenched thirst.
Some nights he still hears her voice,
unsure if it’s insanity’s choice;
Across the arid wasteland calling,
as the stinging sleet is falling;
toward the lowlands of the dead
wherein ancestors’ ghosts with hollow eyes
search amidst endless sullen skies,
their ice cold fingers pierce the skin,
in an attempt to reach the soul within.
Barren air is filled with Ravens’ cries
and forsaken lovers mournful sighs.
He’ll call his Catherine from her cold,
attenuated, barren moorland road.
Back to Wuthering Heights, bringing her home,
no more gnarled paths shall she roam.
Out along the frozen moor
wherein deep snow falls and northern winds roar,
Catherine’s spirit passes through th
Wuthering Heights Chapter"Master Hindley was in a frightful state after the Lintons left, having consumed over much wine during the evening but he persevered in giving me useless chores to occupy myself with so I thought it best to remove all traces of Miss Cathy having spoken to Heathcliff that evening it might have caused unnecessary hysterics." Mrs. Dean explained, surrendering a beaten and much used copy of the Bible. Though not religious myself, I could barely suppress my judgement on the witch who had the audacity to scribble over the Scriptures, no doubt led to it by that villain Heathcliff, I thought privately. Mrs. Dean motioned for the book and began to decipher a flowing lady's hand written there:Wuthering Heights Chapter3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
'Heathcliff and I have escaped from Hindley's vulture eyes and found some books and a small piece of charcoal from the burnt out fire; I have spent these last few minutes instructing H. how to inscribe his own name. Fancy that! How he has forgotten already, I cannot hope to know. I