The Heronning


By onemorething
- 408 reads
I wrote it on the storm cloud
of a heron's wing and watched it travel
the eel-wend of the river,
with the hernshaw's promise:
she knows the words for water.
Carry my poem,
this heronning,
a plea for tenderness,
a new beginning.
She is girdled by harrow,
eyes patrol, her weapon drawn,
she ploughs an empty river
in a skirl of wind,
in the defiance of living,
in the April rain
which still bears the icesharp
of a winter past.
Painting is a lovely Hans Thoma in the public domain. Hernshaw is an old name for a heron.
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Comments
Poem and painting both as
Poem and painting both as beautiful and graceful as each other - thank you onemore
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I liked 'eyes patrol', 'skirl
I liked 'eyes patrol', 'skirl of wind' and 'April rain which still bears the icesharp of a winter past.' Rhiannon
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Hi Rachel,
Hi Rachel,
this was a poem I couldn't resist and thoiught these lines were very astute:-
She is girdled by harrow,
eyes patrol, her weapon drawn,
she ploughs an empty river
in a skirl of wind,
in the defiance of living.
A vivid account of flight that's fraught with danger, but a need to keep going.
Well observed and beautifully written.
Jenny.
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Beguiling and beautiful.
Beguiling and beautiful.
That's why this wonderful poem is today's Facebook, X/Twitter & BlueSky Pick of the Day.
Congratulations :)
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I liked eel wend very much,
I liked eel wend very much, and the sense of space and bright fresh coolness throughout. Wonderful to have a new poem, Thank you!
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