It Isn’t The Princess Who Needs Saving #DVersePoets

In the market they are talking

about last week’s linens,

still strung across the garden

beneath skies dazzling blue.

 

The butcher’s wife does not like

the cats with their black cloaks,

stalking the briar patch at night,

bright eyes like guttering candles.

 

Her husbands claims superstition,

but distrusts the foxglove purple swords,

the nightshade, the mistletoe,

the cut stems by the hedgerow.

 

Forgets who birthed their last child,

almost blue and so brokenly quiet.

Breathed that first cry into him

when they though him too far gone.

 

But there’s the girl and her tears,

and her husband raging

for some sort of explanation

as to why the seed won’t take.

 

And why this year’s harvest failed,

and the Harlow’s pig got sick,

and the men from the church came

and hung a witch out.

 

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I’m going to admit, this poem got away from me somewhat, and I’m really not sure how I feel about the ending. Still, I hope you like where I took tonight dVerse prompt. I only used a couple of the phrases we were given but like I said, the poem sort of got away from me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Water Song – #DVersePoets

I want to sink bells into the pond.

Plant them just below the waterline,

where the ripples look like scales

lifting out of the shallows slowly

on the back of an endless snake.

Then at night when the moon lifts,

turns her face to watch,

I’ll slip out onto the decking,

strip down to my silver skin.

Drop like a stone or a witch

into the quiet cold of a place

not quite what I wish of it.

Wonder as the bells ring out

if anyone else may be listening.

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There’s a lot of Shropshire Folklore about women and water. The River Severn is often characterised as female, and there are tales of women (or women-like creatures) inhabiting lakes and ponds. Another image in Shropshire folk tales, is that of church bells falling into water and being lost forever, but the sound of their ringing being heard at night.

I’ve always been in love with myths and legends, but more often than not it was the classic Greek, Egyptian, and Norse myths that I turned to as a child. More recently I started to look into the tales from my native county, and one of the poems in my collection was inspired by this research. During the lockdown I’ve been trying to read more books to keep myself occupied. I ended up purchasing ‘Shropshire Folk Tales’ by Amy Douglas. The one off poem on Shropshire Folklore that I included in my collection now looks like it might grow into something more.