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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.




Filippa’s Gift

Fillipa's Gift                 “As she drew it gently from its velvet-lined casket Filippa noticed the gleaming links; knowing that Sforza had made this especially for her caused a pang in her heart.  Sforza was a poet, an artist with a soaring soul that only Fillipa could possess. Sadly she had just learned that he had been captured by agents of the Borgia’s and was fearful of his safety. As she slipped it around her neck and fastened her cloak tightly there was a determined set to her chin. she would sell all the jewelry her family had given her to ransom her lover but she would not sell the necklace that he fashioned for her slender throat. In the dark of night she slipped away, mounted her bay mare and rode quickly through the mist; she would reach Milan in time if it took her last breath…”

If you long for a bit of fantasy in your life start with this delicate necklace-who know where is might lead?

Necklace is 23 inches long (can be adjusted) with filligree connector and hand crafted glass bead. Entire necklace has been distressed and patinaed, then sealed. It will be in my etsy store tomorrow.