In this place, borders smudge allowing seepage Between our ancient fathers and ourselves History collapses to a single point Connections forged through timeless stones and paths Peripheral vision glimpses walkers who Accompany us as we follow their parade Across symbolic landscapes forged by hand Our feet superimposed upon their prints The air is heavy, tingling static charge Compelling boulders, dense with gravity We may not understand their meaning yet Somehow they bind us with a common bond
A couple of years ago we visited Avebury. As with visits to other ancient site such as Stonehenge, I was struck by the sense of the immediacy of the place, a connection across the millennia with many who had trodden the same paths. (15.02.22)
It was cold that night Was there snow? Or was it frost? I don’t recall We walked along the river You wore many layers To keep out the chill I laughed as later You unpeeled them Defrosting in the pub We went out Starting as friends But by the time We’d reached the end An unspoken change Had occurred We paused. I spoke it Should we add Another couple To the list? You said yes We held hands Electrifying You couldn’t see but I was smiling It’s funny how walks Can be so significant A sideways step Into a space To reflect To be and to grow Soon after that We went on another Again you said yes Or at least I think you did You certainly Smothered me Down on my knees By the Thames Again we emerged Once more transformed There have been many More walks since then As now we explore Life’s bubbling stream Of chaotic rapids And lazy eddies Together And I still enjoy Unpeeling the layers That make up you
In Africa I once saw boys Suspended from the back of A speeding truck ahead of us My heart was beating in my mouth My hand firmly clutching the seat belt Afraid for their safety, but they Just laughed and waved, content, at ease
Now looking back it seemed like fun
Today I wrote a risk assessment It made me wonder if we’ve got Our sense of risk confused because It seemed to me there was more chance Of my getting repetitive strain From typing it up than any Disaster striking those who come To stand outside to sing a song….
Today I sent off a risk assessment for an outdoor church service. The form was extensive and not really suited to what we are planning. I can understand the need to be careful, especially in public events, but sometimes… (11.02.22)
Infuriating TEASE! This DAILY challenge comes, Made out of thirty BOXES, In six rows, each a GUESS, With five letters to SPELL, The word concealed BELOW, And BOAST of victory. Which word will you try FIRST, And hope they all turn GREEN? If not and SPACE permits, Go WRITE another one! However, if the FINAL, BLOCK is filled and you’ve, Not got it RIGHT, it is, Too late you’ve lost Wordle. SHAME….
Late to the game, I’ve discovered the daily fun/torment of the game Wordle, where you have to deduce the day’s five-letter word. Writing this, got me wondering why the creator opted for the name WORDLE when that has six letters. Odd. (09.02.22)
He came under the hedge Dissolving then resolving Into our winter garden His black tipped snout came first Emerging from the leaves Held high in arrogance As if to say its mine
Approaching nose held high A russet red coat follows Like others wearing furs It further reinforces His proud appearance, standing Like Hollywood heroes Above us mere mortals
This attitude adorned He struts around the grass Then job done he departs Another property Perhaps awaits his pleasure A second or third home From his portfolio
After yesterday’s black dog, another canine! Today a fox treating our garden as his caught my attention. (08.02.22)
Not sure if this is done yet, I imagine I will continue to tinker with it (if I make any substantial changes I will put it in a new post not just change it here), but I think the time has come to share this draft at least. If you’re interested in such things, I’ve tried to reflect Anglo-Saxon alliterative verse, although I also found myself rhyming the second and fourth lines of each stanza.
Those faithful fellowships did meet that fearful eve In prayer and praise they sat upon familiar pews In Blythburgh they began and Bungay parish too Not knowing the nightmare now drawing near, their doom
With darkness deepening a fearsome storm developed A ghastly gale bending tree branches gustily And whipping window panes whilst whistling through the eaves Before a crash crescendoed of thunder cracking crisply
And lo! Bright lightening flashed lashing the ancient porch Burning its wooden beams, bursting apart its doors Revealing standing stark a loathsome silhouette Which set their feet like stone with savage steely roars
Its haunches high above the heads of those who turned To see its savage claws come stepping through the gloom As lifting lips revealed a line of sharpened swords And bright red radiant eyes surveyed the harrowed room
What terrible tumult amongst the heavens tore Alarms above were rung, angelic soundings warned About the biting beast bounding along the nave Growling against our God to whom good people prayed
The congregation cringed and cowered in its wake As hastily the hound ran, howling in blind rage Some swooning as if wounded, whilst swiftly it gave chase Towards the holy table the target of its hate
Between the terror and the table of our Lord With bread his broken body and wine the blood he poured Two knelt in noble thought, kneeling in contemplation Father and firstborn son in faith both highly favoured
But did the Devil’s dog respect their holy deeds? Their obeyance of the Bible? The depth of their belief? The alms they always offered? Their vigils at the altar? No chance! Instead he nipped their necks with gnashing teeth
Such was his speed and deftness that as their severed heads Fell from their lifeless shoulders to lay upon the floor In prayer their posture stayed, poised for the life to come Yet onward the cruel creature now crazed began to claw
Now, as the people trembled the tower began to shake Foundations faltering as hopes began to fade Its growing groans joining the grim beast’s hellish roar And to the dog’s dismay, downward it now decayed
With bated breath they waited to find out if the beast Still lived or had the collapse ended its wicked life This anxious pause persisted until the people saw There was no crouching creature to cause continued strife
With cautious hope they came out of their crevasses Where desperately they’d dived expecting death therein To find all saints and sinners, except the two, survived So slowly the surprise eventually sank in
With arms aloft they sang alleluias for God’s mercy Led by their priest perched not on pulpit but the floor Until the wise church warden, with gnarled white fingers pointed Towards scorched paw-print stains seared stark upon the door
Their laughter turned to longing for clarity about The fate of that fierce hound, what had befallen it? Had the collapse killed him or did his life continue? Perhaps it now persisted prowling outside they posited
Clutching his golden cross With prayer the priest with care Led laity outside To see what waited there…
As a young boy I lived in Bungay, Suffolk. One of my teachers told me the story of the black dog of Bungay, which captured my imagination and started a fascination with folklore that has persisted. It is said that in 1577 an appearance of black shuck terrorised the people of Holy Trinity, Blythburgh, and St. Mary’s, Bungay, as described in ‘A Straunge and Terrible Wunder’ by Abraham Fleming. This poem is my re-imagining, a celebration of the story and Mr Talbot through whom I heard it. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Shuck#Bungay_and_Blythburgh
Image: Public domain, Title page of the account of Abraham Fleming’s account of the appearance of the ghostly black dog “Black Shuck” at the church of Bungay, Suffolk in 1577
I’m still working on ‘The Visitation of Black Shuck’, it’s coming along nicely. In the meantime today I was challenged to rewrite the church’s Covid guidance to those hiring it for parties in verse. Over I quick cup of tea, I hastily threw this together…a bit of light relief
Our doors are open Please come and visit But don’t forget We’re in a pandemic
Here are the guidelines For us to follow Please pop on a mask And open a window
It’s not so wise To gather in the middle Don’t overcrowd Spread out a little!
But if in the end You’re stuck isolating We’re more than content To help rearranging!
My poems may slow down a little bit going forward, at least for now. I’m in the process of rewriting my doctoral thesis, I’ve got a year to resubmit. This needs to be my main focus alongside work and family, but verse will provide a fun release and necessary diversion alongside it! I’m also playing around with a longer piece of poetry, in the form of medieval alliterative verse, based on the legend of the Black Dog of Bungay; a ghostly apparition famous for an appearance in the local church. Here’s the first stanza as it currently stands to whet the appetite…
Poem 83 – The Visitation of Black Shuck
Those faithful fellowships did meet that fearful eve In prayer and praise they sat upon their usual pews In Blythburgh they began and Bungay parish too Not knowing the nightmare awaiting in the gloom
Abraham Fleming, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
