The Shadows of Birds

Gold cherry
Poem of the week
Pick of the Month

By onemorething

Thu, 09 Feb 2023
  • 4014 reads
23 comments
 

A scold, I am, 

but you are listening more closely now

when once 

my voice was too loud, 

my words too many,

my tongue too needling,

a busynosybusynosybusynosy.

 

I say, I rode a hare 

to where the devil meets me;

he lets me hold him by his horns.

I say, see this witch bottle 

of hair and piss and bane and nails,

cross and uncross the grave mound,

steal a handful of bonedirt,

speak your name backwards,

curse and uncurse.

 

Call me Belladonna, 

gather at your synods,

faces like pounded beef, and

brood on my bitter herbs. 

Steady the stake deep

on the waste,

out by that fairies' rampike,

but far away from the pox of your god.

 

Build the wood and tar, 

the heather kindling, 

witness the surge of a crowd, who

are baited and sated and I, woman,

in my emanationtemptationexcitation, 

for all that marks my feminine corruption,

and I, woman, woman, woman, 

witness the shadows of birds.
 

Image is from: Witches presenting wax dolls to the devil, featured in The History of Witches and Wizards(1720) — Source (Wellcome Library). In the public domain. 

 

 

Certificate 15
Poem
Unclassified

Comments

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

Master of mysterious mystic and intrigue. A stunning recipe for alluring the reader into your poem.

A magnetic read indeed.

Jenny.  

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Thanks very much, Jenny. I do love reading about these kinds of things. 

 

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

Some of the stories - just horrific, and you can still see small echoes in village life now. This is brilliant as ever onemore. I love the description of ' faces like pounded beef'

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Thanks insert. Yes, have been reading about witch trials again, as is evident! Glad you liked it. 

 

Submitted by marandina on

"... I rode a hair to where the devil meets me.."

Darkness and foreboding spells out the fate of a witch. Very much a trademark poem and I love the inky blackness of it even if there's an underlying sadness. 

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Oh, thank you, Paul, am a fan of inky blackness, as you know. 

 

Submitted by Ed Crane on

They have the power to frighten and feed imagination which can lead to super poems like this one.

This is a good thing. (the poem :)

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Yes, me too. There are some fantastic ones with imps. And thanks Ed! 

 

Submitted by lenchenelf on

a wounded voice shouting down the ages of oppression, flinging out male constructs of female power that terrifies small minds to gain some volume, even in the face of their brutal judgement at her last...

O, I like this, so much.

Best as ever

Lena xx

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Thanks so much Lena, yes, a wounded voice and I think those are the ones we can always still hear if we take the time to listen. xx

 

Submitted by airyfairy on

This stunning piece is our Facebook and Twitter Pick of the Day! Please do share/retweet if you enjoy it too. 

Submitted by airyfairy on

This is also our Poem of the Week! Congratulations! 

Submitted by onemorething on

Blimey, thank you! This justifies a Belgian beer and perhaps a gin and tonic. x

 

Submitted by Di_Hard on

This made me think of the women in Iran braving the morality police and burning their hijabs and cutting their hair, but I do not find witches empowered, or role models. They were about men (sometimes women) scared of what was in themselves and blaming someone else. Searching for reasons and being as unreasonable as it is possible to be. You find something so different in these stories to me who sees only  a tidal wave of darkness, with truth the stones that survive underneath, smoothed over by years. It would have been so very hard and frightening to be different in any way in times of struggle, just like some people in other countries now, murdered because they have mental health issues or question the prevailing religion's words. Men or women. You find heroism and inspiration and beautiful, thrilling poetry where I find victims and fear and crushing inability to belong. The sideways glance and just out of hearing comment are always waiting wherever humans gather. I wish I had your belief in magic

 

Submitted by onemorething on

I see the Iran parallel. And I suppose I do believe in other people's magic, or the magic of the universe, in the sense that there is something about truth and beauty and goodness that cannot be crushed or silenced. I do find inspiration in that. Heroism implies an active role to me so I'm not sure I see accused women as heroic in that regard, they were victims. This history is all darkness, I find no light in what happened, but I suppose I find belief - in something indomitable and that makes me angry and want to shout back with a poem. Thanks for reading and your wonderful, thoughtful comment. x

 

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

putting my head round the door to congratulate you on both well deserved accolades - this is such a thought provoking piece (and what a wonderful comment from Di too)

 

Submitted by london_calling79 on

I fell right into this and I'm not quite sure I'm out yet. 

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Oh, thanks for reading it! 

 

Submitted by Mark Burrow on

The voice in this is tremendously defiant. The imagery and turns of phrase are so good you immediately have to read again. Loved it. 

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Thanks Mark, really happy you liked it. 

 

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

This is our Poem of the Month - Congratulations!

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Wow! Thanks so much! What an honour! 

 

Submitted by Kris on

Accolades well deserved.....yes