IMG_7152-1 - Copy

A statue of Ceres watches over Devizes from the top of the Corn Exchange…


My name is Ceres, Goddess of the Corn

I stand above the Market Place and stare

With stony face, half dressed, and with a horn

Towards the North, the hill, the over there

I’ve lovely hair, but long the days have passed

When men admired the firmness of my rack

I’m old, and to be fair I can’t be arsed

Once had one’s day is never coming back

I’ve sewn my seed, been fertilised, and borne

My little birds and thrown them to the skies

Seen men come to the Market Cross to mourn

Seen marryings, and mayhem in The Vize

I’m old, but oh I see, from up on high

The secret things, the glory of the sky


© Gail Foster 5th January 2018

The Angel of the North




Another bloody southerner

Shedding tears at my steely feet

I stand in judgement over you

See me and weep

Tell the angels of the south

To bless you with their feathered sympathy

I have no eyes to cry for you

Nor close in sleep

This is my body, glorious

Within my breast a thousand hammers beat

I cast a shadow over you

See me and weep


by Gail