Tatters of Brown – Folktober Challenge Day 26

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She’s hunting the corridors
In her once splendid gown
Now, just sad tatters of brown
Retracing her steps, as countless times before

Where once there were eyes
Is now pits of black sorrow
Knowing there will never be a bright tomorrow
The house echoes with her cries

She will never again hold her children close
Or see them thrive and grow
Never again see their smiles
Or guide them through life’s trials
Never again hear their laughter
Or have the joy to care and look after

A mother’s love never dies
Keeps her searching forevermore
Trapped here on the lonely moor
Even as the centuries flies

©RedCat

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Another small contribution to Folktober Challenge over at The Wombwell Rainbow.
See all images and read other responses for today here.

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Image credits:

Image 1: Claimed photograph of the ghost, taken by Captain Hubert C. Provand. First published in Country Life, 1936

Image 2: NWT Roydon Common by Richard Osbourne

Image 3: Dorothy Walpole by Charles Jervas, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Image 4: John Sell Cotman – Raynham Hall, Norfolk, circa 1818

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ps. I have become aware that in some browsers this blog is experiencing what is called the white screen of death. I’m working on figuring out how to fix it. ds.

Fields Beyond – Folktober Challenge Day 18

1.18. Bananach

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Fields Beyond

Some say I should curse my love, for making me become this.
That I should have refused her hand, as I lay dying on the battlefield.
I say she swooped down and saved me, took me to the fields beyond.
Gave me new meaning and eternal love.

So what does it matter? How I look, or the horns I bear.
I bear them proudly, without feeling their weight.
They are a sign of my prowess and courageous heart.
Of her giving me part of her essence, meaning she’ll always be near.

Now we fly the skies together. From afar seeing what becomes of man.
Diving down to pick up, those that no longer have flesh hands.
After we have them delivered, we fly back to our fields.
In the soft twilight, there is no need for armour or shield.

There we lay together, exploring the way to each other’s bliss.
So truth be told, I’ve never been happier than this.

©RedCat

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When inspiration strikes, whether it’s convenient or not, I try to write. And few things are as good at waking my muse as the pictures curated by Paul Brooks over at The Wombwell Rainbow. See all images and read other responses to the Folktober Challenge here.

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You can read other ekphrastic poems here.

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