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Tuesday, December 4, 2007


Spoon River Monologues
Minerva Jones

I am Minerva, the village poetess,
Hooted at, jeered at by the Yahoos of the street
For my heavy body, cock-eye, and rolling walk,
And all the more when “Butch” Weldy
Captured me after a brutal hunt.
He left me with my fate with Doctor Meyers;
And I sank into death, growing numb from the feet up,
Like one stepping deeper and deeper into a stream of ice.
Will someone go into the village newspaper
And gather a book the verses I wrote? --
I thirsted so for love!
I hungered so for life!

Nellie Clark

I was only eight years old;
And before I grew up and knew what it meant
I had no words for it , except
That I was frightened and told my mother;
And that my father got a pistol
And would have killed Charlie, who was a big boy,
Fifteen years old, except for his mother.
Nevertheless the story clung to me.
But the man who married me, a widower of thirty-five,
Was a newcomer and never heard it
Till two years after we were married.
Then he considered himself cheated,
And the village agreed that I was not really a virgin.
Well, he deserted me, and I died
The following winter.

Rosie Roberts

I was sick, but more than that, I was mad
At the crooked police, and the crooked game of life,
So I wrote to the Chief of the Police at Peoria:
“I am here in my girlhood home of Spoon River,
Gradually wasting away.
But come and take me; I killed the son
Of the merchant prince, in Madam Lou’s,
And the papers that said he killed himself
In his home while cleaning a hunting gun
Lied like the devil to hush up scandal,
For the bribe of advertising.
In my room I shot him, at Madam Lou’s,
Because he knocked me down when I said
That, in spite of all the money he had, I’d see my lover that night.”

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