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Playing Around With Poetry



A Walk On The Shore

A tiny figure full of fright,                                                                                                         Crosses the moors in the pale moonlight.

Across the stones, through heather and gorse,                                                                          She carries a heart so full of remorse.

She loved a man, a weak one -it’s true,                                                                                            And he loved her, but she never knew.

Through the rocks and to the sand,                                                                                           And on the shore; all night to stand.

Watching and waiting with lamp held high,                                                                          Searching the shore for ships gone by.

All in the village have spied this lass,                                                                                                    And all hold their breath when near she does pass.

The tale has been told, many times before,                                                                                       Of why she walks nightly down to the shore.

The story is one of fortune and fame,                                                                                             And the man she loved but could not claim.

His was the family that kept them apart,                                                                                         Tore him in two and broke his heart.

The lovers never could marry his parents declared,                                                                       So he sailed on the “Sovereign” to see how he fared.

But the ship was cursed with sickness one day,                                                                            And all on board did pass away.

So on sailed the “Sovereign” night after night,                                                                             And no one knew of their terrible plight.

Years went by and his family mourned,                                                                                           The tiny lass, still they scorned.

She kept her vigil week after week,                                                                                              Down at the shore, her lover to seek.

They looked for him always; the lass and his child,                                                                              As they lived alone, on the moors so wild.

Then one day they gave up the ghost,                                                                                                 And both went home to the Heavenly Host.

And though it’s been ages (and perhaps even more),                                                                     She still walks nightly down to the shore.

Still she searches the waves and the reef,                                                                                         And shines her lamp to hide her grief.

The tale is told of that fateful day,                                                                                                 When the “Sovereign” finally comes to bay.

Three ghosts will walk in the moonlight mild,                                                                                       A man, his maid, and their little child.


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A Refuge From The Storm

8658463882_1acb570c92_z                        “The night was growing colder, it had started to rain and the wind whipped Filippa and her tiny mare, chilling them to the bone.  As much as she wanted to press on she knew that to do so would only weaken her and cause her to falter.  As she cleared a thick stand of birch trees she spied a faint light in the distance. Her mare must have understood and headed straight toward it; Filippa’s energy flagging, she allowed the horse free rein.

She was exhausted and near to falling off her mare when she saw a sign announcing the “Cavallo Bianco” Inn. Several coarse men were milling about the door, shouting and cursing.  Filippa nearly passed by but she was so drained that she took her chances; tying her horse to a post she stumbled inside. “Ho! What have we here? Come girl, give us a kiss!”, shouted one of the men as she passed by.  That started a great uproar and shouting from all the men, causing quite a din to arise.  Poor Filippa was at her wit’s end and near to fainting when a short, fierce whirlwind blew through the men, boxing their ears and banging random heads with a pot.  Surprised and startled into silence by the innkeeper’s wife the men settled back to the benches and resumed drinking.

“Come child, what is it you need?” Near tears Filippa poured out her sorrow as she sank to a table. Bustling about the stout little woman brought the young girl food and drink, all the while keeping a stern eye on the rougher patrons. After she had supped Filippa was led to a small bed in the room where the innkeepers children slept, there the kindly wife tucked her in for the night.

In the morning after a healthy breakfast Filippa was ready to resume her journey once again. After profusely thanking the innkeeper and his wife she pressed one of her treasures into their hands.  The tiny wife of the innkeeper had never seen such a lovely thing and was at first reluctant to take it, saying it was far too much. “I pray you accept this, and if you feel it is too much then perhaps when I return you would be good enough to take me in again”, replied Filippa.

Weave your own fantasies while wearing this one of a kind necklace featuring an amethyst pendant.  This and other romantic jewelry on my etsy shop.

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A Dark Journey…

8658595368_115f6dc5aa_z“The moon was full and bright, but a swirling mist slowed Filippa’s progress.  As she let her mare pick its way through the thick forest thoughts of her family filled her head.  She knew her brothers would be worried at her absence, but she also knew they would stop her from going if she had consulted them.  Her oldest brother, Pietro, was the most protective of her. He had fashioned a special necklace for her with an amulet in which he had placed a special prayer for her.   The chain he fashioned link by link interrupted only by glass beads her father, Ulisse, had brought home one evening. When Pietro found it gone as well as his sister,  Fillipa knew he would panic…”

Weave your own fantasies while wearing this OOAK hand-crafted necklace.  Length of chain is 25″, length of pendant-drop is 4 1/2 “. Chain is completely hand made with spacer beads of rose colored lamp work beads.  Pendant is made of a hollow polymer bead, a rose lamp worked bead and copper spacers.  It goes up for sale on my etsy site tomorrow.