Pressing Giles Corey II
I spend most time within this grave
Unmarked and deathly silent
I met my end remaining brave
Which made it no less violent
Pressed to death for 3 long days
Only asking for more weight
Not this lie but other woeful ways
I wonder if I'd sealed my own fate
A young man from my living time
Caught stealing just some apples
I beat him for his modest crime
Now my soul still with me grapples
Shy a fortnight I did keep him here
Only to deliver him to deaths door
This caused my current state, I fear
To haunt Salem Town forevermore
I never gave in to their torture
When it was me unjustly tried
My wife hanged instead of scorch her
Am I the fault we both have died
Save for occasional haunting
I still feel I'm being pressed
This eternity seems daunting
And weighs heavy on my chest
This young man's name was Goodale
His soul must have been set free
Nightly down here without fail
Mine is still here trapped with me
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
