Mystery and Crime Poetry posted June 3, 2019


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A mystery poem with a lesson

Framed

by Pamusart

I gasped that day upon the stage,
when we were young so long ago.
Was not deserving of your rage.
Your spittle hit me on the go.
An actor through and through you were;
a man who broke the ladies' hearts.
Emotions soon became a blur.
I still recited all my parts.

I fell for you like other girls;
not knowing how love should have felt.
And, so your handsome face and curls
soon etched my notch into your belt.
I saw the crimson spray aloft;
the blood exploding from your neck.
I thought the knife was just a prop.
My life, from then, became a wreck.

Detectives came to question me.
I soon was cuffed and put in jail.
The only prints were mine, you see.
The judge rejected any bail.
I've been in prison half my life,
and, often sit and wonder who.
I settle mainly on his wife.
So many lies, her lips would spew.

She's often in the sheriff's bed.
His beatings forced me to confess.
They both are happy now they're wed.
Revenge becomes my constant quest.
My loyal son is twenty three.
He visits me from time to time.
I think he'll do this deed for me,
and kill the couple for their crime.

I can't be proud of how I think,
or what I plan to make him do.
The poisoned waters that I drink
turns guts into fermented stew.
They'll perish in a white hot fire;
die, screaming at the gates of Hell.
The cost I'll pay for this desire
will leave me empty in my shell.

And, what of him, my only child?
I know he doesn't worship me.
I know he's been a little wild.
But, still, he roams outside and free.
No vengeance can be worth his soul.
I see that calm's the only way.
My peaceful mind can take a stroll
inside this cell most ev'ry day.

One day, he brought his little boy,
who looked like him when he was small.
He posed an action figure toy;
ironic that it's just a doll.
I see the boy inside the man.
His father's looking very proud.
My grandson's got a nice deep tan.
His skin stands out among the crowd.

I could not be much happier;
forgetting 'bout the crooked two.
My life is once again a blur.
Contentment, now, becomes my due.



Recognized


I told you that one of my final poems on this site would be about crime. But, there is also a lesson. It does no good to live in hate and long for vengeance. We must all concentrate on the good in our lives. We�¢??ll be much happier that way.

Thank you for reading my poem.

I found the photo on the internet.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.


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