Last Curtain Call – A Poem on Catherine Howard’s Beheading

“I have come here to die. I die a Queen, but I would rather die the wife of Culpeper. Life is very beautiful.”

– Catherine Howard, The Tudors Season 2: Bottom of the Pot



Imagine a girl on a late afternoon
By the lake, with the good company of
Music and forest birds
Mysterious habitants and enchantment
Sat on the grass, as she watches the golden shine
Contrasts by dark colors, tranquil waters
Calming windy pleasure and symphony
It shall be a moment away before
It’s the end of the day
And beginning of night
Where morning creatures shall bow for the
Last curtain call

Photo by Nicole Avagliano from Pexels


And when the wind caresses her young face
She shall be reminded of freedom
Before her heartbeat beats fast
And her senses come again

She is painfully conscious once more
Sat at the coldest floor imaginable
Gloomy darkness of night infested
Dreary, stormy ocean waters, windy and confused A symphony of plead and prayers
Wailing, crying in despair
The crows and the vultures
Mysterious habitants and enchantment
Practicing and perfecting doom
In the tower, head laid
The manner fate ends, unroyal


The light of day is restricted by walls
Looking out the window, anxious and sorrowed
She cherished the sound of the pound
Of her chest, before it is perpetual silence


She walks through a dark aisle
Lady and Queen of England
King’s fifth; Catherine Howard
Enthralled him and turned the heads
Of her people and gentlemen
Which pulled strings of her little figure
Delinquent, naive, promiscuous


As she goes, there is courage
And gracefulness, convincing enough
But she wanted to scream
She screamed for mercy, to no avail
Spirits shall remain to haunt
Imagine a woman, before the ocean of people
Full of pity, lamentations, curious mostly
It shall be a moment away before
It’s the end of the day
And beginning of night
Where she shall bow for the
Last curtain call.

Photo by Flickr from Pexels

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