Constance La France Poet Narrative

Notes About The Poem

Cabin In the Forest

The year was 1680 and I was travelling,
            I sat in the carriage looking out the window;
The coachman was driving the horses quickly,
      As a storm was approaching us from behind.
Thunder was booming and rolled over the forest,
            Already raindrops were falling on the glass;
The sky was overcast with dark shifting clouds,
      And everything was getting dull and gloomy.
This road was so deserted and remote from civilization,
            I must admit that I was afraid.

Suddenly the carriage lurched and was falling over,
            It bounced through the foliage, twisting and turning;
And then it stopped and all was quiet and still,
      The coachman was dead and the horses also.
Struggling, I managed to climb back up to the road,
            My corseted body, full overskirt of pink satin;
And parchment petticoat unsuitable for climbing,
      The bun on my head loosened and my hair fell.
Oh dear, it was so dark and misty on the road ahead.
            But I started to walk in the inkiness.

The forest around me was pitch black and frightening,
            But there, through the trees a light was burning;
The rain was coming down in torrents that blinded me,
      As I stumbled forward through the tangled trees.
A wood cabin was hidden in green lush vegetation,
            It looked so secluded and isolated and lonely;
But I found myself banging on the door loudly,
      As sheets of rain poured on me from up above.
And then the door slowly opened and light spilled out,
            And I stood there dripping wet, and . . . . 

________________________
August 22, 2015

Poetry/Narrative/Cabin in the Forest
Copyright Protected, ID 15-702-939-0
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.

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Afolabi Muideen August 24, 2015 at 3:46 PM What a fabulous story; you penned this story a great BW. I love how it was constructed, the horrible situation described within is eloquent. Good luck in the contest.............A.M.

Sandra Haight August 23, 2015 at 7:48 PM Wonderful story of rain and the terror of darkness, Broken! It pulled me right in... and then....left me hanging! What an imagination you have...loved it. Best of luck in the contest. Hugs, Sandra

Nette Onclaud August 23, 2015 at 4:42 PM a darker shade of terror, constance... a striking piece you got.. huggs

Alexis Y. August 23, 2015 at 2:57 PM BW, this is a well written piece. I found myself in the woods. Your skillful pen pulled in the piece. Great imagery. Who opened the door? I know its going to a part 2.This could easily be short story or a novel.I think you got yourself a winner with this write.Good luck in the contest:-) Alexis 7

James Peranteau August 22, 2015 at 9:36 PM I see a sequil here dear poet ! Intense for sure....love ta see the wetted soul and her impatient eyne...oooo loved it Constance! Have a wonderful upcoming Sunday....much love, james