Odd, this week’s writing prompt.

The Lykewake Dirge.

Chorus: This ae neet, this ae neet

                Every neet and all

                Fire and fleet and candleleet

                And Christ receive thy soul….

We were learning odd old songs last night at choir, appropriate to the season.

Verse:    When thou from heme away art part.

                Every neet and all,

                To Whinny moor thou comst at last.

                 And Christ receive thy soul.

The song talks about if you ever gave someone shoes and hose, you can sit down and put them on, but if you didn’t the ‘whins’ (winds?) shall pick your bare bones. It goes on along these thoughts. The figures in it, carrying a dead body, proceed from Whinny Moor, to Brig o’ Dread at last.

If you gave Meat and Drink to anyone the fires of Purgatory won’t touch you, but if you have naught, the fire will burn you to your bare bones.

Thus this old Yorkshire Dirge gives it’s message that if you treat people well and with kindness you shall be saved from the fires of Purgatory, but if you were mean spirited, that is your loss.

It’s interesting to find out about songs like this in our modern age. Spooky and frightening images of people striding out across a dark, windswept moor. High above towns and cities. Perhaps men wrapped in dark clothes and cowled or hooded cloaks….

Carrying a body to its last resting place? Maybe a bog grave where the body will be preserved in acid peat. Their skin turning to leather over the centuries. Held in a peaty stasis whilst their life’s works are weighed in the balance. Bones turning brown and black.

The cloaked figures striding off into the distance, like figures in the latter day ‘Traitors’ TV programme.

Next week we will be learning Carols, ready for Christmas……..

              

        

              

Fairies flitting

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Leap up and fly

In the sky

Searching round

About the grounds

Of ancient house

Or garden, green

Faries fly.

They’re rarely seen…

They find the flowers,

Chase the wasps

Feed the bees

Have fairie tasks

Grooming beetles

Catching frogs

To ride around

The lake and ponds.

Never seen by mortal men.

They live in a fairie glen.

Enough of whimsy

My tale is done

The story, flimsy

But lots of fun.

(sculpture of a Fairy at Trentham Gardens, Stoke-on-Trent)

Winter Haiku

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I wrote this for the 64 million artists January challenge on Facebook. (I think that’s what it’s called). Each day a different artistic challenge. I’ve only done a few of them, but it’s interesting to dip into.

” Just keeping warm now,                             It is hard to do for you………..                       Little bird in snow.”

🐦

I’m not sure if I’ve got the syllabul count right. Is hard one or two syllabuls?

X

Catlick

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I love the shapes cats make, even when they are having a wash…

Catlick, wash and brush up.

Preening and tidying,

Smoothing your fur..

Make yourself handsome,

Tidy your whiskers

Top to tail,,

Then your inner gymnast,

Turns you upside down,

Inside out,

Legs akimbo! (love those words).

Purrs escaping like a boiling kettle.

Shapes like a twister game.

You are my cat.

Beautiful and gleaming.

Kittens

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India and Bandit…

India and Bandit were kittens, born in January 2017. They were two of four born to their mother.

I had taken in two rescue cats and one if them turned out to be pregnant.  They were cute as kittens are, bouncing round the house, climbing up the curtains, spinning round chasing their tails….

They have new names now, are fully grown I guess. I saw some of their photos and they looked lovely. I haven’t seen pictures of them recently so I hope they are doing well.

I have tried to write a poem about a kitten….

Kitten runs around the house,               Up and down the stairs.   Jumps from ground…                                             to curtain top.    Leaps across the bed.

Kitten rolls and plays with toys,                   into everything….      chases tail for hours and hours….             pounces on my nose,   falls asleep and purrs.

Kitten grows into a cat….                         lythe and soft and fast    still she chases all her toys                             never seems to stop      waits for belly rubs.

Cat grows old                                                        now she snores      she is old and grey.              Now she creeps but never leaps        one day she will be gone.

Tail wagger

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Tail wagger, nose twitcher,

Not Dog, but Cat!

Ear flicker, whisker shiver,

Feline shape, replete.

Claw slasher, paw dasher,

Chasing round the room,

Not mouse, nor rat.

Pure Pussy Cat!

 

Goodnight cat, don’t you creep

About the house while I sleep.

Have a rest,

my fine familiar,

Rest your head upon your paws,

Sleep my puddy tat!

 

Sea Horse

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Sea horse, racing through the surf, galloping over turf.

Sea horse, give it all you have, kick your hooves so hard.

Sea horse, flying through the air, foam round your feet.

Sea horse, don’t stop for breath, racing with the tide.

Sea horse, today is your day, race for your life.

Sea horse, see your life flash by, waves of time wash over you.

Just the ocean, sea and you, in your wake I follow.