Lonpops

This was a commission piece from the incredible Sarah Peploe, an illustrated version of my Poem ‘Saint Osgyth’.

Skald of the Hills   He climbed to the hilltop, To sing his king’s name, Into the valley below, So that all would hear, The gods would bless The travellers, This pilgrimage, As they trudged towards The hope of a new land, Praying that, in slowness, They were at least fast enough.   He stood on the walls, Bellowing song, As they defended their home, Hard won, long ago, founded Far from their…

Carving - a poem of loss and winter and the forest.

Carving – a poem of line breaks and missing endings, about loss in the forest in winter and waiting.     Carving   He left a message in the ice Before he went out Hunting Into the blizzard But I woke too late and missed My chance To say Goodbye. I told him I loved him, I’m sure I Did. But enough? Who knows. He left to hunt Without me, Left me snug in bed, And I never got to tell Him I loved him…

Post Modern Faerie - What if the Faerie had tried to abduct the post-modernists to join them..

    Post Modern Faerie   They used to bring The poets to fairyland To entertain the folk As they ran and danced And hunted, The bards Marching tune.   They were used To the outcasts All too willing To join The never ending song That took worlds And made them theirs To see their songs Made manifest At last.   This new breed, Taken by the faerie, As was the custom, Confused them, Too much, Even for…

St Osgyth

  Saint Osgyth   She would carry her head Back to holy ground After they had struck it From her neck So rudely.   Scorned men are fools That they chase Full of pettiness That they would Take an abbess And remove her head Just for spite.   You should have seen their faces, When she picked her severed head From the ground, gingerly, Placed it upon her bloody neck And made a silly face That made…

Caterpillar, Snowglobe and Dragon Tails - three short poems

      Caterpillar The Caterpillar Has too Many Legs They Wobble All Over The place, Bumbling along And eating Lettuce Like They think A healthy diet Will make Them Beautiful Or give them Wings Or something.       Dragon Tails   Dragon tails Swish like cats’ At play, they’re just Bigger, and excitable Dragonlings Tend to make A whole lot more mess. It’s like small fire breathing scaled things (who…

On Waking I Find Myself In An Unknown Place - and no I couldn't make the title any shorter.

  On Waking I Find Myself In An Unknown Place   Waking to a Cornucopia of colour I stretch, breathing in new air, In an unknown city. Hubbub surrounds everything In bizz-buzz conversation, Language unknown, Lurching upwards i stand To newborn fate, Another day, another place.   Not noticing me yet, I decide (or I must, soon) Whether i want To dance in the reflections Of these unusual lights,…

Instructions For Successful Teleportation - A set of Instructions for unconventional travel..

  Instructions For Successful Teleportation   Firstly, do not ask questions. You are here, you must concentrate.   Second. You cannot worry about the future. It will be what it will be.   Third. Do not think of where you have been. Where you have come from has no impact, You cannot afford to leave part of yourself behind. This could prove fatal.   Fourth. The journey is immaterial. As are you,…

The Holly King - A rather bleak tale of a very vengeful ghost.

The Holly King   When the season’s getting colder, There’s a madness that comes down, From an ancient murdered king, Whose corpse rotted On the holly bough, He was pierced right through the heart, Atop his oaken throne Then left hanged on a tree.   The Holly King, His crown of leaves Stained crimson, As he breathed his last, He swore a dreadful curse of sorts, To find his way back to the earth.  …

Trick Bird - which is a Loki Poem, written for a night of Norse-inspired poetry a while ago.

Trick Bird – which is a Loki Poem, written for a night of Norse-inspired poetry a while ago. The Feather-dress which grants flight appears in several myths, and belongs to Freya, Loki borrows it in Thrymskvitha despite being a shape-changer himself.   Trick Bird I wear my feather dress Flying across the mountains I am free, No longer constrained, No longer outcast, This never belonged in her…

Steam - Happy Halloween! - An Undead Waiter from a passing Ghost train stops in a bar...

  Steam   ” You know what sucks? Being a waiter on a ghost train. No, not one of those fairground rides or anything like that. Very funny. Destined for comedy you are, dear. I mean one of those big orient express style jobbies – I was working my school holidays on it, this great holiday experience, see the world and make some cash doing it kind of thing. It was the pits. Seriously, i’d worked…

Angel's Watch - A poem about buildings, growth, humanity and cities

      Angel’s Watch   They told him to build Towers like angels, To watch over us, Keeping guard Over the city below.   The city grew around them, Though they stood, Wings outstretched Above everything For decades, Things grow, Cities live, Spreading like bacteria, Petri dish escapees, Outwards and upwards, Leaving walls That once sheltered A civilisation Behind.   The angels look up, A great…

The Bloody Boys - A Short Story about murder, thieves, cake, monsters and magic.

The Bloody Boys – A tale of magic and cake and thieves and murder.   The Bloody Boys   The lower city was in chaos, wracked by a string of robberies, murders and general misbehaviour. All since a mysterious gang had moved in on cheapside. They were known as the Bloody Boys, and had begun a reign of mischief on the city folk. The traders had called for aid from the city, but the guard never came…

A Mining poem, set in a fictional mining town,.

  Pegs Each Miner put his coat there, When he came up, From the depths. We took pride in our delvers Coming back unharmed, More than most, When a miner doesn’t come home, His peg stands empty Just in Case.   The Mountain that sustains us Takes her toll, She can be hard and she can be cruel, But she feeds us. When a miner does not come home, His Peg hangs empty, Just in case.   The Mountain gives…

The Roving Men - a folky-poem about unlikely saviours, ghosts, hills and old gods

  The Roving Men   There are ghosts of rovers in the hills, Men who were not kind When they roamed the earth, They were roaming men Who took all that they could claim.   These men who died alone, Hateful and cold, In the ancient hills, Woke curse with their malice, Old gods watched as they fell, Felt their malevolence fail And called it sacrifice.   Enthralled are they, in spirit, To roam alone…

Mayflies - a poem about memory and dancing and loss and ghosts.

Mayflies   The old man sits In his rocking chair, Wondering at fate. He was a dancer, An acrobat, darling Of the wandering folk. He’s not forgotten them, Still tapping his fingers To a beat in his mind That played so long ago. Now, That the musicians Are all gone, He wonders If he’s the only one left who remembers The tune. So he whistles alone Along the dusty corridors Between cobwebbed rooms,…

The Abyss - a love poem (of sorts) about stepping into the void.

The Abyss   I jumped into the abyss Holding your hand, It seemed so romantic. It was such a stupid idea, It took me ages to find you, You were all mixed up, Jumbled around , Consciousness Scatter Ed Into a thousand bits.   The Abyss called, We swam within it, Enjoying the luxury Of the incorporeal, A holiday from existence, For a while, Until it bored us, And missing touch, We deny it, Become…