Amber Wallpaper
                               Amber Wallpaper yellow wallpaper stories

prettysunflowerJust writing what comes to mind
Autoplay OFF  •  3 months ago

This is a narrative poem about 457 words. It is based on Charlotte Perkin Gilman's The Yellow Wallpaper.

Amber Wallpaper

You never did let me have what I want

I loved that baby so, but he was forbidden

Mary is my seraph’s guardian angel, like a loving Aunt

So vigilant Mary is, while I remain bedridden

Though I am not sick, just need my rest!

The mansion I idly roam, the yellow room a daunt

An old nursery splotched orange, faded from the sun

It’s irritating the sickly sulphur tint, like a taunt

I begged you to have it redone, yet you insist on this prison

The pattern laughs and pokes and prods, it commits suicide

No child could love this room, it’s like a haunted house

I wanted the room with the roses, that leads to the piazza outside

You denied me the summerhouse, its walls, gates, and even the broken greenhouse

Swore that I was not sick, I just need my rest!

You tell me I’m alright, laugh like the yellow wallpaper

But a physician knows best, so I’ll keep quiet, swallow my downer

My dear husband, you know what’s best

I am not sick, just need my rest!

I want to write and watch my ink come to life

But you deny me pen and paper

Instruct me to loll, so I must be a good wife

Listen without demur.

For I am not sick, just need my rest!

Husband, you probably have never experienced such nervousness

When the sun hits just right, the formless figure comes to life

Blending within the intricate designs, it is sleepless

I hear sister, I must go. For I am not sick, just need my rest!

I have grown fond of the yellow wallpaper, I lay deciphering its pattern

Going horizontal, then vertical, like bars with no end

Though to have the baby here would be of concern

I must make emend, John knows what’s best. I am not sick, just need my rest!

Yet, I do not sleep. The woman creeps and weeps

Sister hears it too, even in the daylight

The woman creeps out in the open country quite a heap

The others are curious too, but the paper is mine alone, the creeping ends tonight!

I scratch and tear, ready to entrap the weeping woman

I will not leave this room, the outside is full of creepers

I’m fastened by my rope which lets me creep freely about the room

For the outside is not yellow but green and full of dangers

Knock, Knock! Why there is John at the door

He pounds and hollers, but I keep on creeping just the same

At last he enters but I have escaped, just like I swore!

John thumps across my path, it is a shame

That I must I creep over him every time.

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