This poem was inspired by this drawing by Kira, of Kira’s Sunday Scribbles,
The Maiden stands at the great ship’s prow
Like a fatted calf or a holy cow,
A forged alliance between ancient foes,
Sent far away from the land she knows.
A lonely bride, the Pride of youth,
The tears she shed when told the truth,
Her true love killed in brilliant battle,
And Sold to his killer as the victor’s chattel.
No chance to escape or hope to flee
She spies an owl in a gnarled oak tree,
“Dear Owl, please deliver my fragile soul,
To the spirit world where my Love doth lie.
And restore to me my hearts true goal,
To dwell, eternal where love can’t die.”
And with a scream like a dread banshee,
She threw herself into the ice-cold sea.
Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 15/October/2018