Wuthering Heights

Wuthering Heights

Wuthering Heights is one of my absolute favourite books. It’s not a happy story. In fact it’s a miserable tale full of horrible, miserable, and spiteful characters but there’s something strangely magical about it. There’s also the fact that a ghost shows up for like five seconds then isn’t acknowledged for the rest of the book. What’s that about?

I think something needs to be made clear though. People need to stop pretending that Heathcliff is some kind of romantic hero. He’s a nasty, cruel, manipulative, and violent man. Idolising the socially stunted Mr Darcy is silly enough but Heathcliff is a swine, plain and simple.

Anyhow, this poem is pretty shoddy even by my standards but, with such a lot of misery in the source work, it’s hard to write a poem inspired by Wuthering Heights that won’t kill people.

Wuthering Heights

Heathcliff took Cathy’s waif-like hand
Exclaiming I’m a total prat
But you’re as coarse as grit and sand
And so, for what it’s worth

I think we make the perfect pair
You’re stupid and you’re cruel at that
My very presence chills the air
We’ve rid the moors of mirth

But Cathy was too weak to live
And Heathcliff also, it would seem
He died unable to forgive
That she died giving birth

The house was overwhelmed by creepers
Nobody could ever dream
Unquiet slumber for the sleepers
In that quiet earth

The book also inspired Kate Bush's brief foray into ultrasonic warbling

The book also inspired Kate Bush’s brief foray into ultrasonic warbling.


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