I wrote this rhyme when I was young, and sometimes I say it to the moon…
*
Glide high, my glimmering crystal moon
Across the mirror of the sea
Mother of water and blood
Watch my soul for me
…
Curve, pendulum, clock of the night
In your swing, in your sway
In your shadow of light
Watch my soul for me
*
© Gail Foster 1980 something
*
‘Twas dawn when Marah went down to the well
To fill her pail with waters bitter sweet
The sky, flushed pink with daybreak’s blooming swell
Made rosy dewdrops glimmer ‘neath her feet
The well was hard to find, and deeply hid
Within the sacred forest’s leafy fold
With ivy dressed, and writ upon its lid
In graven letters, words of wisdom old
Here water calls to water, here a stream
May conjured be by sorrow to a flood
Should tears like fishes fall and catch the gleam
Of sunlight, then shall water rise like blood
The air was still, unbroken by the lark
As Marah dropped her pail in to the dark
…
As Marah dropped her pail in to the dark
She held her breath, and watched it disappear
Stood firm, and stopped her heartbeat, lest a spark
Of morning’s glory light a single tear
But pain is force, that seeks to find a form
As hard to stem as ocean’s endless roll
And ‘spite her will, within her broke a storm
That rose unwanted from her ancient soul
Her tears burst forth, and waterfalls of streams
Flowed down and struck the surface of the deep
And as they fell were lit by glittered beams
Of sunlight, and the dead were woke from sleep
The waters rose, grew violent in their swell
Thus so did Marah ope the gate of hell
…
Thus so did Marah ope the gate of hell
Thus so unlock the door of death and birth
Unleash a tide too powerful to quell
Unloose the grief of all the souls of earth
Made waters rise, to breach the old well’s rim
Pour up, and drown the flowers in the grass
Caused birds to cease in flight, the sky grow dim
And clouds to form as shadows upon glass
She stood aghast, as heavy as a stone
As whorls of water swirled around her dress
Stood drowning in the forest there, alone
Too late to pray, to hope, or to confess
The waters closed above her sorry head
As Marah joined the legions of the dead
…
As Marah joined the legions of the dead
Her eyes began to fill with blood and light
With all the tears that man had ever shed
With all the dark and horror of the night
And floating past her, man and woman, child
All weeping, weeping, screaming in their pain
Possessed by loss and loneliness, gone wild
With disappointment, or the guilt of Cain
Here unborn souls, who died within the womb
Here mothers mourning infants took to death
Here those imprisoned, tortured to the tomb
Who cried for life with one last feeble breath
With those whose love was thwarted or dismayed
In one unending terrible parade
…
In one unending terrible parade
The labourers, the weary hungry poor
Those men who lost each pitch and toss they played
Who only spake the raven’s ‘nevermore’
With those stood on the shoreline when the Ark
Set sail for freedom and new hope of day
And those who, as they listened to the lark
Were by some wave or bullet took away
The blood of martyrs mingled with the tears
So sadly shed by all humanity
By souls lost to the night, who met their fears
On mountain tops, on roadsides, or the sea
So this is pain, thought Marah, here is shown
More sorrow here than I have ever known
…
More sorrow here than I have ever known
More pain than I could ever comprehend
And yet this pain in some sense is mine own
To rise above, to conquer, and transcend
And with this revelation, Marah rose
Up through the deeps, towards the hazy light
Unwove her being from the tangled flows
Flew through the waters like a climbing kite
Up, up she went, past all the weeping dead
And blessed them as she passed, for bless she could
Then broke the waters with her joyful head
And breathed the air that blew so fresh and good
Across the grass where once a flood had been
As if had been a mirage she had seen
…
As if had been a mirage she had seen
Seemed all the world just light, on rock and tree
All colourful, all shades of blue and green
And all that pain become but memory
She heard a whisper, soft within her ear
Go forth, and hold this lesson in your heart
You sought for answers, and you found them here
Now take them to the world and play your part
She picked her silver pail up, and she ran
The well sat silent, watched her fade away
Sat waiting, for another questing man
To learn its wisdom on another day
This is my legend, for ‘tis mine to tell
‘Twas dawn when Marah went down to the well…
*
© Gail Foster September 21st 2016
*
an epic tale of innuendo
*
Fantasia Lavender Fortescue-Prendergast
Philosopher, poet, and muse
Wore Victorian skirts that swept up the dirt
And peculiar button up shoes
Fantasia Lavender Fortescue-Prendergast
Found herself suddenly slighted
Bereft and bemused, and less than amused
And suffering love unrequited
The effect on her verse was dramatic, and worse
‘Twas inspired by horns and baguettes
As hysterical rage seeped through pen to the page
Like some awful poetic Tourettes
Eyebrows were raised as her work was appraised
It was said she was caustic and crude
A potty mouthed tart with a poisonous heart
Who was totally randy and rude
Fantasia Lavender Fortescue-Prendergast
Watched her story unfold with dismay
Watched her petticoats slip as each vulgar quip
Made a whore of her more every day
So she packed up her quill, and pink ink for a thrill
Spare petticoats, perfume and papers
Her smelling salts, eye mask and lavender bags
For random attacks of the vapours
I will go to an island, Fantasia said
I will contemplate beauty, and truth
I will take me a train, travel far, and regain
The lost innocence of my youth
The romance of islands, Fantasia thought
All lost in the shine of the sea
Supernaturally kissed in a glimpse through the mist
How inspiring, how perfect, how me
The day on the train was a bit of a strain
There were some sticky moments with tunnels
And the bit where the guard blew his whistle real hard
Made her tears of mirth flow in runnels
Much to her shame, the boat was the same
Flushed her delicate cheek to a bloom
Oh, the sniggering joys of seamen and buoys
Being tossed on the wave and the spume
The island was lit by a mystical light
And the breezes blew scents warm and heady
Like a virgin, she thought, that has never been caught
Although many had been there already
She started to feel profound and unreal
No man is an island, quoth she
An island’s an island, a man is a man
And neither’s the other one, see
She undid her bonnet, inspired, and on it
Licked her quill and began to create
A verse about loneliness, islands and stuff
Solemnness, sorrow, and fate
It was peaceful and sweet, there were flowers at her feet
And the soft sound of sea through the trees
All became gentleness, sweetness and light
Purity, poetry, ease
For a moment, a moment, Fantasia there
Channelled a serious grace
Although anyone else would have just seen some bird
Looking mad with a gurn on her face
Gone was the gut churning river of smut
That had streamed from her mouth and her pen
I am making a vow, Fantasia said
No more innuendo or men
The universe heard, every well-meaning word
‘Tis the way that the universe works
And God likes a joke, like a mischievous bloke
Who plays practical jokes upon jerks
What sound is that, our Fantasia thought
Absentmindedly watching a deer
Like a low distant grumble, a curious rumble
Got louder, and odder, and near
Suddenly, far in the distance, a herd
Of curious cockerels appeared
Oh my goodness, she said, and reached for the salts
For a sniff’s always good when a-feared
They’re coming, they’re coming, the curious cocks
They’re growing, they’re growing in size
Not surprising as they were much nearer by then
Running swifter than any crow flies
The cocks are upon me, Fantasia cried
Like a rabbit in lamplight she froze
As, eager to play and all puffed in display
They peck, pecked, at her skirts and her toes
They were all shapes and sizes, blue, green and red
Some aggressive, some shy and retiring
Some had a wild beady look in their eyes
And one had no cylinders firing
It was surely a shock, the appearance of cock
In the midst of the island idyll
Ironic in fact in the light of the pact
Fantasia had made with her quill
Fantasia Lavender Fortescue-Prendergast
Suddenly knew what to do
For all that was needed to scare off the cocks
Was the swish of her skirts and a “Boo!”
Growing smaller, and smaller, the curious cocks
Disappeared as fast as they came
‘Twas all quite astounding, Fantasia thought
And the universe reckoned the same
*
Fantasia Lavender Fortescue-Prendergast
Philosopher, poet, and muse
Inspired by the tale of the curious cocks
Penned a verse to surprise and amuse
The wink of the sailor boy on the way back
Made her flush with a blush that was red
There was something about him that floated her boat
“Just call me Fanny” she said
*
by Gail
damn you, winter tide
leaving behind in your wake
shells on shores of spring
*
by gail
gailfromdevizes 