The Island

Not an island filled with holes,
But named by gospels inked in gold.
Lindisfarne was once called holy,
By the monks that lived within it’s priory,
Their home cut off by raging seas,
But a causeway comes at half past three.
So when the English walked the pass,
To attend the Priory’s Sunday mass,
As they crossed to the island judged,
For doing sins and doing good,
The foul are taken, engulfed by waves,
And the saints make passage to go and pray.
So if you cross with a conscience ill,
The isle may take you at it’s will.

This is my I poem for the A to Z challenge.
http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com

My A-Z is based on Northumberland, and the myths and monsters that lurk within. You may want to read a couple other poems in my challenge to get the gist.

Well this ones about ‘Holy Island’ or lindisfarne, an island off the coast of Northumberland that can be accessed by a road at certain times of the day. It’s home to books called the gospels and I decided to turn it into a murdering island.

I know I’ve fell behind, but I promise to catch up

The Grock

The Grock is not said but sung,
For the ‘R’ must roll right off the tongue,
There have been many stories said,
That he’ll grind your bones for his bread.
That he steals the sleeping out their room,
And takes them to awaiting doom. For Grock came from way up high,
When the beanstalk fell from the sky.
But be glad that there is only one,
For half the North would be gone!

Ok so I’m cheating a little to get caught up. But really this is where the rest of my a to z has come from. On a trip to Glasgow I was alone in a hotel room for a night and my mind wandered. The Untold Stories of Scotland is the result of such wandering.

Now I know alot of my followers have come across this poem, and the one I have coming up for H, but one of the great things about doing this challenge has been the amount of new visitors. And I’d love to share these little Scot inspired verses with them too.

This is my G poem for the A to Z challenge.
http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com

The Foreign

Across our land from East to west,
We built a great walled defense,
From the foreign who live beyond divide,
Of whom we do not speak their kind.
With thirst of blood and human flesh,
We stay behind our safety fence.
But when we cross, to our back it looms,
The wall becomes our grave and tomb.

This is my F poem for the A to Z challenge.
http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com

My A-Z is based on Northumberland, and the myths and monsters that lurk within. You may want to read a couple other poems in my challenge to get the gist.

This one comes from the story of Hadrian’s wall, and the fear of those that lurked beyond it. It’s hugely inspired by The wall in the game of thrones series and books, but it’s our wall and we had one first!!!

The Broth

The Broth, the deadly winds that howl,
And reaps a many thing so foul,
Misty, thick and foggy Breeze,
Seasoned with the salt of seas,
Carries with it snow and sleet,
And blows and beats the north of East.
So bitter wind it sting the bones,
Stealing breathes and nipping nose,
The broth is not a hearty meal,
But a wind so cold and hard as steel.

This is my B poem for the A to Z challenge.
http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com

My A-Z is based on Northumberland, and the myths and monsters that lurk within.

A broth is a kind of soup, made up of peas barley and lentils with a whole load of veg in it. Often ate on New Years Eve, and on cold days. The weather up in Northumberland has been so bad lately, this is where the idea of the Broth wind has come from. A wind so thick and foggy, almost like a soup.

My poems kind of lead onto one another so I do suggest you read the poem before it to get the gist.

The Braves

Standing just at one foot tall,
Guarding keeps and castle walls,
The tribe of which the moat is hold,
Are littles like the garden gnome.
With spears in hand, align in rows,
Await to stab intruders toes.
These tiny brave, soldiered men,
As old as which what they defend,
The wars have gone a battle ghost,
But still the braves defend their post.
Their joints they’ve seized and turned t’ stone,
Til a day may come to fight for home.

This is my B poem for the A to Z challenge.
http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com

My A-Z is based on Northumberland, and the myths and monsters that lurk within.
The idea of The Braves came to me when I was writing The Untold Stories of Scotland and it never came to anything until now. The idea is a small army so old they have turned to stone, or gnomes. We have alot of castles up in Northumberland, and even more Braves.

My poems kind of lead onto one another so I do suggest you read the poem before it to get the gist.

La Criatura de los Muertos

With battered bones and broken teeth,
There dwells a creature they call the creep.
Whose eyes are blind and slits of red,
But do not rest within his head,
For In his palms, so quite sly,
Here you find this beings eye.
And in it’s fingers long and thin,
He searches on the waves of wind.

Of nothing more than skin and bones,
With arms so slightly over-grown,
Resting upon a tabled feast
A heavy breath escapes the beast.
Til a grape is stole and placed,
To her lips for just a taste,
The creep he rises off his seat,
For warned she was not to eat.

She runs on down a narrow hall,
And draws a square upon the wall,
As she pushes with all her might,
He comes on closer into her sight.
With a limp he shuffles near,
She drops her chalk in clumsy fear.

She pulls a chair and draws again,
Above her head a doorframe.
With a push it opens wide,
She stumbles and begins to climb,
’til she is up out the floor,
And left the creature behind the door.

The Percy Lion

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.

@AmyRichardson7