A Crag a name that’s often given,
To some may know as witchcraft women,
Who live amount the Cheviot hills,
Brewing teas and making spells,
The oldest crag of ninety nine,
With scratty hair and eyes blue blind,
She has for ailments a drinking potion,
For fertile wombs and bones t’ broken,
For seeing things she has a gift,
As the future she can oft predict,
In times of trouble and times of plight,
And when the moon is mostly bright,
They take their baskets and walk the wood,
Whispering chants and casting good.
This is my C poem for the A to Z challenge.
My A-Z is based on Northumberland, and the myths and monsters that lurk within.
The Crags of Northumberland are sort of cliffs, up near Alnwick. But I thought they sound more like witches of the woods.
My poems kind of lead onto one another so I do suggest you read the poem before it to get the gist.
It’s said a lion roams the lands,
Since they came to Percy’s hands,
Of whom the lion took his name,
Has curl of tail and silver mane.
This lonely beast once was found,
Guarding territory of Alnwick grounds,
A roar feared by the southern crowd,
This lion’s pride is one and proud.
A humble Knight, a majestic thing,
They call old Percy, the Northern King.
The Lion is the sigil of the Percy Family, whose genealogy can be traced back almost 1000 years. The family still have residence in Alnwick Castle, but throughout history also occupied near-by Warkworth. Statues and coats of arms of the Lion can be seen throughout Northumberland.
This is part 2 of the Story of the Northlands! I hope you will follow to see more to come.
- A stone set in the labyrinth of Alnwick Gardens, it reads – only dead fish swim with the sea.
I discovered a new poem today that I would like to share with you. The author is Mervyn Peake, a fantastic poet and I have placed his book ‘A book of Nonsense’ high on my list of things to buy. He is also illustrator of classics such as Alice’s Adventure in Wonderland, The Swiss Family Robinson and Treasure Island, but I would like to bring to your attention ‘The Trouble With Geraniums’ simply because I love it…
The trouble with geraniums
is that they’re much too red!
The trouble with my toast is that
it’s far too full of bread.
The trouble with a diamond
is that it’s much too bright.
The same applies to fish and stars
and the electric light.
The troubles with the stars I see
lies in the way they fly.
The trouble with myself is all
self-centred in the eye.
The trouble with my looking-glass
is that it shows me, me;
there’s trouble in all sorts of things
where it should never be.
– Please note this is not my own work, poem can be found at http://www.mervynpeake.org/poet.htm
– The photograph is my own