by Willow

The mead we drank beneath the five-pointed star
stains my mouth like liquid rubies;
I try to speak but my words have turned to crystals,
They twinkle like dragon-eyed dragonfly wings;
on lights that flicker like melted gold,
as we sit in the magic circle and drink the faerie nectar
shared when the world was new,
by beings wise with power untold.

©Willow Rose 2011

6 thoughts on “Stonehenge by Willow Rose

  1. I love reading your words Willow they are so thoughtful, it is nice to see such refreshing words. Great work, I love it and keep posting more of these to you wall, I love seeing them so much.

    • Daryl, I thank you for your astute comments and empathic perception of what it would be like to capture just one moment in time; a time long, long ago. I wanted to keep writing but something stopped me; it was like a hand reaching out and making me be still. Who knows, maybe it was a ghostly gesture from the past? I love to feel and re-create that mystical past when anything was and is possible. Thank you again~~~~~

  2. So there’s an old Anglo poem, (I could probably find it somewhere) about how washing in water that washed the stones could heal – that is what I hear, Willow. The colors and the almost languid perspective of the poet, a ritual older than memory, yet empowered by the action of it, and then this retelling… brings the old ones to life. And no words to spare, you are sharpening the image to what Wallace Stevens wants, “Not ideas about the thing, but the thing itself.”

    • Thank you , Edward, “Sunday Morning” by Stevens has always been one of my favorite poems. I wanted to go on, but it just wouldn’t have another word. Too many metaphors or images would have ruined the moment; and I actually did drink a bottle of very old mead made in a coven so it is real to me. I feel honored I was able to make it real to you.~~~~~~~willow

  3. Oh Willow – This is wonderful! Mystical, ponderous, and the visual devices are divine. I will read this many times and wlak away with as many ideas. You are a gem to be sure…ponderous indeed. Beautiful flowing verse.

    • Thank you for enjoying reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, Ron. As I told Edward, I actually drank a bottle of mead with a man many called “Merlin,” and, with his long, flowing white beard and ice-blue eyes he looked the part. The mead was made by a coven, and I think just recalling it put the magic in the words. Too bad there isn’t any left to share!

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