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Here's the deal, folks... This is the 1st THIRD of this quite lengthy poem. Due to Poetry Soup's file-size limitations, this piece had to be posted in 3 parts. What a pain! Anyway, the 2nd and 3rd THIRDS can be accessed, of course, by going to - "Poems by Mark Stellinga" - on the Soup. So sorry for the inconvenience... Thanks for reading it, it's a fun piece and definitely worth the effort - The only story stranger than the way I came to own it, is that of how its insides were maintained. The home is my inheritance…and for the past three centuries…only firstborn sons had ever reigned. But… as my father’s father-in-law’s father-in-law’s father-in-law’s father-in-law’s father would never sire a son - to govern o’er the manor when he died - And his decree would dictate that as - “master of the manor”- nothing but a male could there reside… When my cousin - thrice removed - discovered, while attempting to fill the voids within our “family tree”, Facts that seemed to indicate to her the next in line to “Brackenthorple Manor” now - was me, And sent a note explaining that - if what she’d learned was accurate - based on what the family links had claimed - I was now the rightful heir -- (despite diluted blood, and how - because of marriage - I was named… I phoned my mother right away to ask the reason why she’d never spoken out on my accord! She said, “I figured somewhere down the line an aunt or great aunt or great-great aunt or great-great-great aunt or great-great-great-great aunt had surely spawned a son to be the Lord. “But, son, I hope it’s true that - since your great, great, great, great granddad passed away - the manor now remains “Masterless”….and you - today - are now the only male with Brackenthorple blood within his veins! “It would be bizarre if only daughters have been born. I know that I’m at least the twenty-fifth. I’ll have to come and visit you. I’ve read a lot about it…particularly about the famous myth.” “What myth is that?” I quizzed my mom. To which she would reply, “The one about the maid who keeps it clean. Though dead for many years, of course, they say she lives there still, though very rarely heard, and never seen! “Her name is Margaret Hearthwood. Simply, ‘Maggie,’ to her friends. Her first job as a maid was for the Earl. It’s said from 1569 to 1885, the family never hired another girl, “And yet…within but hours after recent the gala balls…the house was always tidy once again. And - even though it’s empty now - if what I’ve heard is true…it’s never seen a messy day since then! “Purportedly - for all these years - Maggie’s loving care is what the Brackenthorple house has known. And if the legend’s factual…as strange as it may seem…this - Maggie Hearthwood’s living there alone!” I told my mom, sarcastically, “I’ll give your ‘best’ to Maggie,” then laughed and said, “I’m leaving right away.” Then phoned the distant relative who’d made the great discovery, and told her, “Thanks…you’ve really made my day.” She said the Lord who’d lived there last had prudently established -- for caring for the manor’s needs -- a trust… And therefore, both the structure and the grounds were well maintained…but every time she’d gone inside to dust She’d found the house immaculate…with everything in place…and naught for her to do from stem to stern! She also said the trust had chosen her to hold the key…and, if and when I came to “take my turn”, I’d have to come and get it…and we’d have some tea and crumpets…and she would let me view the family tree. And then -- to have the manor’s deed recorded in my name -- she told me who I’d need to go and see. I called my boss and quit my job. Next, I called the airport, and booked a flight to London from Ft. Worth. Eighteen hours later I was sitting in an office, laying claim to what was mine - by birth! The lawyer seemed resentful, and immediately demanded a large retainer toward his final bill. He claimed his firm had represented Brackenthorple’s owners since the house was built, and that the will Very clearly pointed out its master had to be a relative by blood to stake the claim, And that I was, indeed, the next in line to take the helm…despite the fact our surnames weren’t the same. Now, be sure not to skip the other 2 'THIRDS', it's definitely a long one, as many of my 'story-poems' are, but it's good for a chuckle - STAY SAFE, Mark

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To the Manor Born - 1st Third - W-Illustration

Here's the deal, folks... This is the 1st THIRD of this quite lengthy poem. Due to Poetry Soup's file-size limitations, this piece had to be posted in 3 parts. What a pain! Anyway, the 2nd and 3rd THIRDS can be accessed, of course, by going to - "Poems by Mark Stellinga" - on the Soup. So sorry for the inconvenience... Thanks for reading it, it's a fun piece and definitely worth the effort - The only story stranger than the way I came to own it, is that of how its insides were maintained. The home is my inheritance…and for the past three centuries…only firstborn sons had ever reigned. But… as my father’s father-in-law’s father-in-law’s father-in-law’s father-in-law’s father would never sire a son - to govern o’er the manor when he died - And his decree would dictate that as - “master of the manor”- nothing but a male could there reside… When my cousin - thrice removed - discovered, while attempting to fill the voids within our “family tree”, Facts that seemed to indicate to her the next in line to “Brackenthorple Manor” now - was me, And sent a note explaining that - if what she’d learned was accurate - based on what the family links had claimed - I was now the rightful heir -- (despite diluted blood, and how - because of marriage - I was named… I phoned my mother right away to ask the reason why she’d never spoken out on my accord! She said, “I figured somewhere down the line an aunt or great aunt or great-great aunt or great-great-great aunt or great-great-great-great aunt had surely spawned a son to be the Lord. “But, son, I hope it’s true that - since your great, great, great, great granddad passed away - the manor now remains “Masterless”….and you - today - are now the only male with Brackenthorple blood within his veins! “It would be bizarre if only daughters have been born. I know that I’m at least the twenty-fifth. I’ll have to come and visit you. I’ve read a lot about it…particularly about the famous myth.” “What myth is that?” I quizzed my mom. To which she would reply, “The one about the maid who keeps it clean. Though dead for many years, of course, they say she lives there still, though very rarely heard, and never seen! “Her name is Margaret Hearthwood. Simply, ‘Maggie,’ to her friends. Her first job as a maid was for the Earl. It’s said from 1569 to 1885, the family never hired another girl, “And yet…within but hours after recent the gala balls…the house was always tidy once again. And - even though it’s empty now - if what I’ve heard is true…it’s never seen a messy day since then! “Purportedly - for all these years - Maggie’s loving care is what the Brackenthorple house has known. And if the legend’s factual…as strange as it may seem…this - Maggie Hearthwood’s living there alone!” I told my mom, sarcastically, “I’ll give your ‘best’ to Maggie,” then laughed and said, “I’m leaving right away.” Then phoned the distant relative who’d made the great discovery, and told her, “Thanks…you’ve really made my day.” She said the Lord who’d lived there last had prudently established -- for caring for the manor’s needs -- a trust… And therefore, both the structure and the grounds were well maintained…but every time she’d gone inside to dust She’d found the house immaculate…with everything in place…and naught for her to do from stem to stern! She also said the trust had chosen her to hold the key…and, if and when I came to “take my turn”, I’d have to come and get it…and we’d have some tea and crumpets…and she would let me view the family tree. And then -- to have the manor’s deed recorded in my name -- she told me who I’d need to go and see. I called my boss and quit my job. Next, I called the airport, and booked a flight to London from Ft. Worth. Eighteen hours later I was sitting in an office, laying claim to what was mine - by birth! The lawyer seemed resentful, and immediately demanded a large retainer toward his final bill. He claimed his firm had represented Brackenthorple’s owners since the house was built, and that the will Very clearly pointed out its master had to be a relative by blood to stake the claim, And that I was, indeed, the next in line to take the helm…despite the fact our surnames weren’t the same. Now, be sure not to skip the other 2 'THIRDS', it's definitely a long one, as many of my 'story-poems' are, but it's good for a chuckle - STAY SAFE, Mark