Hello again. I’m Ken Webb, speaking to you from the Miraflores District of Lima, Peru. Today is Thursday, the 29th of May, 2025. It is 1200 hours, or 12 noon for you non-military types. Good afternoon.
The weather here is mild, mostly dry, and a little moody. Sixty-six degrees Fahrenheit, cloudy this morning, partly clearing this afternoon, with just a five percent chance of rain. Tonight, the temperature will drop to fifty-nine degrees under continued cloud cover, with a light wind from the south-southeast. A perfect day to read something a little dark.
I was told just last night that I have the perfect voice for thrillers. That stuck with me. I’m still learning the ropes with my gear, my software, and my editing. So bear with me. I take this seriously. I am really enjoying the journey of learning how to post on YouTube, Facebook, and Instagram, even though I do not personally like Instagram all that much. Most of all, I’m enjoying creating content on my writer’s page.
Today’s piece is a psychological thriller written in poetic form. “Porphyria’s Lover” was written by Robert Browning and first published in 1836. Browning was a Victorian poet known for his intense dramatic monologues, complex characters, and dark psychological themes. While less famous than Poe or Whitman, Browning’s work has influenced generations of writers with its layered meaning and raw emotional power.
This poem tells the story of a man whose love turns possessive, and then deadly. What makes it unsettling is not just what happens, but the way he calmly justifies it. Listen closely. The horror is quiet, and that is why it lasts.
“Porphyria’s Lover” by Robert Browning (1836)
The rain set early in to-night,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o’er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me—she
Too weak, for all her heart’s endeavor,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me forever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could tonight’s gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshipped me: surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string I wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untightened next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propped her head up as before,
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria’s love: she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said a word!
That was “Porphyria’s Lover” by Robert Browning. It is a masterpiece of dark introspection and quiet madness.
If you felt something shift in your gut while listening, that is the power of well-written suspense. It does not scream. It whispers. And it stays with you.
I’m Ken Webb. Thanks for spending a few minutes with me today. If you like what you heard, check out more of my work at kenwebb69.com for poems, Bible readings, and updates on my first novel, ‘Trapped in Deception.’
I wish you a good afternoon and a happy day. In the golden years of life, most people regret what they did not do instead of what they did. So chase your dreams, just as I am doing. I am 56, and I am living on my own terms now.
While you are visiting the website, don’t forget I am giving away a free copy of ‘Trapped in Deception.’ There is no money required. All you need to do is join my mailing list or vote on one of the three cover designs I am considering. I will be using a highly scientific method to choose the winner. I will write each person’s name three times, throw the slips into a hat, and pull one out. Simple and honest.
I welcome your feedback. Please be critical, but kind. This project matters to me, and I want to do it right. Check out ALL youtube videos at: Kenneth Webb@MrWebb2000
Be good to people. Show grace when you can. And God bless you.