Twisting on the hook

The woman extracts casually what she needs as he watches in fear 
You must know it was harmless….he begins
To whom? Her eyebrow arches as no reply is heard
Pulling the cloak tighter she says quietly people can be broken 
There is a price to be paid, when we carelessly cause hurt, 
The scales weigh and measure the blackened removed heart 
You expect to hurt, cause pain, destroy and casually stroll away? 
His mouth opens and closes like a goldfish in a bowl, but no words 
What I have here barely covers the amount required to mend your damage 
So how do I get recompense? Her blackened nails tap finely on her chin 
She stands a slight woman, and smiles in a way he cannot comprehend  
What appears to be a ball of fire barrels forth from her widened jaws 
Freezing cold it hits him, where he is twisting on the hook and he is still now 
He opens his eyes and is in a different place, his own bed 
But her voice rings in his head recompense, recompense, recompense 
A dream, night terror, yes
But not the lonely trail of blood down his chest….



Water Land

She has swam these waters too long now
Borne their storms with faith it will get better because it has to
Doesn’t it?
Remaining hopeful that a balance can be struck
Between her time on land and her time immersed
Her need of the waters is rising an almost instinctive craving
To just swish through the waters
Losing the land
But regaining the fluid of her beloved waters
One last time, one last hope
Slipping through her fingers like sand through an eggtimer
The grains are running out and she could never stay
What it was always fleeting yet not
As she glides into the dark waters with moonlight reflecting
She takes a final look back to nod goodbye
To free herself
Her tail flipping as her life is restored
The mermaid leaves the land of Man knowing
To stay would destroy her
And the moon glows to give her blessing.

© AilsaCawley Poetry 2015

Yowling at the moon

Why shouldn’t I cross the deliciously cool grass?
Towards that orb in the heavens that watches me
It’s face knowing and I want to share my secrets
In rhythmic musicality only it can understand
For it’s face is locked on mine
As I pour out my core unreservedly
To human ear it may make no sense at all
But the moon it listens to soulful music
The joy, pain, heartache in the same breath
Beating out everything
Wanton and joyful,  quiet and soothing
Till every last essence of me is shared wholly
And I am once more on the earth with the grass dewy underfoot
I am connected once more
But I am earthed and stardust equally
Calm and sated I bid my confidante farewell
For now

© AilsaCawley Poetry 2015

Gilded folly

She’d passed days there knowing there was something else

But what?

It was out there twinkling in the night skies 

Shifting on the breeze like tiniest diamond fragments

It sparkled briefly and when she turned to glimpse

It disappeared.

She grew disillusioned berating herself for living in faeryland

And held the golden bars of her gilded cage

When glancing down she noticed for the first time

A key 

Curiosity pushed forward telling her to just peek 

She could always go back pretending nothing had been there 

And forget her boredom of the pretty cell and go back to 

Being pleasing 

Deep down something primeval stirred ,escape maybe?

Pushing through the barrier and turning the key 

Taking a deep breath to force her courage

Took a step

And with not a backward glance but some fear in her depths

She pushed forward anxious to find out

To know what she could be other than a gilded bird

A golden song thrush 

 From her past of building wonderment and disquiet 

To her new existence which allows the real person free

Taking her through difficulties past everything to her own



©AilsaCawleyPoetry 2015

With grateful thanks and blessings to Michelle Quesada Art for use of her painting .

Dawn procession

Gloom lifting slowly showing a pale yellow light in the distance 

Almost hesitant a lonely voice calls announcing daybreak  

In darkness you waited 

In silence

Almost afraid 

To make that first sound to wake the sleeping world from slumber

You wonder if you really heard that solitary call

So you wait

Holding your breath so long your chest wants to burst

It seems

Closer, clearer, more confident another peep, another 

Till there is a procession that heralds the dawn 

That thanks the world for the day that’s arrived 

Blessing it greatly

For its light, a new hope

An extra chance to be as new in the world

Now you understand the dawning 

It has taken place and inside you feel your soul sing in recognition 

Of earth, nature , the dawn procession 

©AilsaCawleyPoetry 2015


Taking a circuitous route to the room that sets us free
For an hour,  a while, you her and me
For we are one another Rhiannon the wild gypsy
And the quieter more held back side of she
In a tangle of warmth and sweaty Iimbs we join
I am Rhiannon she is me
All of the fears that I held in my heart leave on the wind 
As our hearts and limbs entangle, quicken
It matters not that we pull off the sheets
Or lie spent and happy without a doubt of the great beat
Hear it on the same breeze getting louder still 
Time for us to curb the wildness take a calmer pill
I do not wish to have the time back I discovered something new
I am always that Rhiannon, the gypsy wild heart remains true
So the one who thinks to hurt with bold words in my head
My heart and soul still play a song while yours is truly dead.

©AilsaCawley Poetry 2015

Mist mass

The mist swirls around the land almost threatening in it’s nothingness

Unsure if I can really see what seems to be there or a creature plays

In some forgotten realm ahead of me in the pea green haze 

A rational thought, always the sensible one this ration,

Tells me to get with it and what else could it be but someone coming towards me?

Of course the part, that is more of me than not sings another song,

It’s coming, one of those night creeper things, coming for you

And getting closer, closer, heart beating fit to burst at the shape coming right for me

That I still cannot make out what this lumbering mass is

Enter the last cloud of gloom , the mist mass

Heading for it, as it does for me

Hold my breath, counting, counting, closer, closer….

My head begins to whirl looking for it’s hiding place of which there’s none

But it has vanished into the misty vapour leaving me cold to my bones

With the feel of an icy hand on the back of my neck…….

Secret of the Castle walls

Up, up we climb to the heights where the castle remains
Lay broken and ruined but filled with mystery
Almost swirling on the wind the magic trapped
To remain here within a hand’s grasp it seems
Always to be felt but never to be touched
Not now
Not in this time
We need a time of quiet listening,  reflection
And one day the hubbub will still to nothing
Where secrets can be given to the trusty souls
Of the deepest times of lanterned magic
Flickering candle light, 
No sorcery in corners fearful or mistrusting
The wise woman is respected for her knowledge
Her healing and well wishes
And as the magic shows the castle once more
Not ruined but in full majestic glory
You will be in awe of the beauty you missed
Hidden because you studied only your boots
Not the possible pathways ahead.

©AilsaCawley Poetry 2015

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