creative writing

My Snow White Poetry: Stepmother Edition

November 30, 2017

A couple of months ago, I signed up for group writing critiques project that was hosted by May. Prompts would get sent out every few days. This just happens to be one of the prompts that I messed up.

We were supposed to choose a Disney tale from a specified list, and retell it from another character’s point of view. It couldn’t be the main character (obviously) nor could it be the villain. I, um, I didn’t read that second part. So I spent a long time writing this somewhat mediocre poem from the point of view of the stepmother of Snow White. I hope that it makes sense!

She could picture it already.

A heavy golden crown
upon a face flushed with
competence, triumph and
radiance. A beautiful face
with lashes that stretched
all the way up to the cosmos
and a laugh that enchanted
even the coldest of hearts.

And her.
Forgotten.
Alone.

The signs of her age carved
into the lines around her eyes.
Lips, cracked where they should
be smooth, without a hint
of irony. A voice that groans
and gravels and aches
to any unfortunate that happens to
have the misfortune of hearing her.

A memorabilia of the past, a crone
who has no business
lounging on a chair fit for a king.
Eyes will pass over her, as they do for
cripples and those who sleep on
the streets
as they do for
mothers with too much to handle
and fathers who visit brothels
in their spare time.

A cot has been drenched in jewelry and a child drowns
in the admiration of the court. It’s beautiful
or so they say.
Hair, dappled in the sun,
painted black as sure as hell burns.
The mouth is made of cotton buds dipped in
blood, teeth poking out like fangs.

The screams
that emanated from her tiny
well-exercised lungs, sounded
as though they belonged
in an opera house. Melodic and
elegant for a child, but utterly disgusting
to the woman who was supposed to love her
the most.

Every touch, every feeble whisper
drew a line of sheer terror
on her stepmother’s face.

Repulsion
in the slightest of movements
in the tiniest of motions
in the most insignificant of breaths

nowyouDo you write poetry? If you don’t count the two that I wrote when I was 13, or the ones that I’ve written for my English class, it generally isn’t something that I do. What’s your favourite poem? Please don’t forget to follow by email / wordpress / twitter / insta if you enjoyed my content ♡

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