Medley (Part 2)

Mercury Sigil

~ Ting ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


We have in our yard an unusual shed,

A structure for storing things,

Tis metal-clad from top to toe,

Ideal for those with wings.


Upon its roof birds perch or roost,

They sit or stand and sing, but,

Such a throng, so strong in song,

Makes the tin-shed ring!


Mercury Sigil

~ Plum Crumble ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


A cold winter’s day, rustling leaves,

Splaying branches, swaying trees,

I hungered for something that’d please,

Food to appease my taste buds.


In need of sweet my stomach rumbled,

So to the diner where pudding crumbled,

There sat I whilst musing mumbled,

Reading aloud their new menu.


Desserts distracted but my eye attracted,

By a dish made with plum.

“Perfect,” I said, imagining the taste:

Fruit flavours danced on my tongue.


Shortly thereafter the waitress arrived,

“Ready to order, or more time to decide?”

“Thank you,” I said, “plum-crumble for me,

A favourite dish I choose regularly.”


Short minutes passed when then at last,

The waitress returned with a swish.

Smiling she said, “tis the last dish,

Lucky for you, you can have what you wish.”


“Wonderful! Thank you. But before you go,

There’s something more I’d like to know.

Are you able to reveal the full recipe,

What ingredients I need, specifically?”


“I’ll go get chef,” she politely said,

I’m sure he’ll oblige your question.”

“Thank you,” I said watching her thread,

Between tables towards the kitchen.


In the blink of an eye chef stood beside,

He was rotund with a smiling face.

“The recipe,” said he, laughing merrily,

“Begins in the marketplace!”


“A fruiterer I know who locally grows,

The best product money can buy.

800 grams of ripe rich plums,

So sweet!” he exclaimed with a sigh.


“To which I add a generous measure,

4 t’spoons of organic date sugar.

Then into the mix, crushed almond stick,

50 grams should give it a kick.”


“Next I use squeezed lemon juice,

Four t’spoons to add some zest.

Last but not least vanilla sugar,

Adding 1 peck to all the rest.”


“As for the topping,” he said without stopping,

Start with 150 grams of butter.

Sugar comes next, white cane is best:

150 grams of saccharine matter.”


“250 grams of flour – type 550,

Sieved into a bowl nice and slow.

Then 50 grams of almond flour,

Stir it well with elbow power.”


“Next, 1 peck of vanilla sugar,

Now nearly ready for the cooker,

Last, not least, add to the equation,

1 t’spoon full of lemon abrasion!”


“And there you have it,” chef declared,

“My recipe for crumble, duly aired.

Tis sufficient for four, perhaps even more,

Depending on how it’s shared.”


“Thank you,” I said, “a very tasty treat,

But far to much for one to eat!

Why not join me? Have a seat,

Take some weight off your feet.”


“Delicious,” I said, “that’s the best!

So much better than all the rest.

Almond and lemon gives it real shine,

My word this dish is truly divine!”


And so it was now happily sated,

I paid the waitress, who kindly waited,

And thanking chef, I made my way,

Striding home on a cold winter’s day.


Mercury Sigil

~ Dhalia ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


La flor Preciosa, petaled spring sculpture,

Dressed scarlet red with golden centre,

Blossoming to flower in sunlit rapture,

Fragrant sweet Dahlia, La flor Hermosa.


Mercury Sigil

~ On Meeting Santa ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


I met him once, Santa Claus

He red-robed with beard of snow,

Twas only briefly, albeit fleetingly,

When then he had to go.


Aged five was I, one Christmas Eve,

When young enough to still believe,

I’d descended stairs on hands and knees,

To wait beneath the Christmas tree (for Santa)


I awoke at three quite unexpectedly,

Disturbed by a dull, feint pop.

Something dropped from the chimney breast,

Flopped into the hearth with a plop!


I wasn’t afraid, I had no doubt,

I knew what this was all about,

This was how Santa got in the house,

Down the chimney, quiet as a mouse!


Sleepily, sheepishly, I asked out loud,

“Santa is that really you?”

I heard a rustle, a small kerfuffle,

Then Santa stepped into view!


I know I gaped, perhaps I stared,

Maybe I was a little scared,

For this was Santa, the real McCoy,

Santa Claus who brought such joy!


“Shouldn’t you be asleep,” he said,

“Tightly tucked-up in your bed.”

He wasn’t angry, he didn’t loom,

His jolly radiance filled the room!


I must confess in being impressed,

Santa was less rotund than assumed.

For tis his plight to eat every bite –

Treats left ‘For Santa’ must be consumed.


But yet, Santa Claus was almost svelt:

Athletic, with an upright frame,

I couldn’t fathom how he stayed in trim,

So Santa took time to explain.


“Ah,” said he, “there’s no mystery,

No polar magic to reveal,

On Christmas Eve, I race at pace,

Delivering gifts with zest and zeal.”


“I’ve so many stops, so many drops,

My sleigh is piled so high,

But to complete my feat, to remain so fleet,

I must eat every mince-pie!”


“Then away I go, across the sky –

Burning calories as I fly,

Such great effort needs vast energy,

That’s why I’m a slimmed-down me!”


Santa knelt at the base of the tree,

Quietly whispering, said to me,

“I know you’ve been a very good boy,

“Tis why I give this magical toy.”


From inside the sleeve of his red jacket,

Santa pulled out a small, wee packet,

“For you,” he said, cheeks rosy red,

“The only item on your list I read.”


Wrapped in paper tied with string –

It could’ve been anything! But,

A wooden box with jade-like tone,

Inside of which, lay a single stone.


My eyes lit up, my smile wide,

Such joy I felt, I couldn’t hide!

“Keep it safe, use its magic well,

Never reveal, never tell!”


“I promise,” I said, “I’ll do right,

The stone will never leave my sight!

I can sense it stirring: it’s calling me,

Wish! it cries, set yourself free!”


By now enchanted: was this a dream?

My smile broadened into a beam,

Reaching for Santa, I squeezed him tight,

Then back to sleep til morn’s first light.


Mercury Sigil

~ Charlie Scarecrow ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


In warming soil a scarecrow stood,

Amidst snow-melt and shrubbery.

Patiently attending to tender-tips

For their journey of discovery.


Beneath his robes of rag and straw,

In a place we’ll never know.

Beats Nature’s heart, still ever-green,

From where his scarecrow flows.


I’ve seen him hold both birds and bees,

And talk to Owls high up in trees.

I’ve heard him whistle as he works,

And heard him snoring as he shirks!


Once I saw him harvesting stars,

From the boughs of the Milky Way.

I watched him gift ’em to fairy-folk,

To help light-up their way.


He had no name when he came to me,

And dug himself in the ground.

“Charlie,” said mum, as if she knew,

And then his name was found!


Charlie always chats with mum,

Whilst she’s pottering away.

I’ve asked her what they talk about,

But she’s very reluctant to say.


Her rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes

Have led me to conclude,

That Charlie her gardening scarecrow

Is more than herbaceously shrewd!



Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 22)

Mercury Sigil

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 22) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


A suserrous sound, a sighing breeze,

As if wind quivering trees,

Slipped serpentine through high canopies,

Whispering words, rustling leaves.


Wrapped all around in a wall of sound:

Energetic, faint and low,

Twas if a swarm of droning wasps,

Flew past an open window.


Paused by the door, I listened,

I attuned to a melodic thrum:

A scattering of sounds found concordance,

Harmonious as would a song sung.


“The music you hear softly flowing:

Cosmic quiddity, never slowing,

‘Tis the jazz and scat of all matter,

Moving to the beat of one drum.”


“Away above, atop earthy ground,

An ancient forest thrives,

Where-in there stands a mighty Oak,

Branching into arching skies.”


“Upwards she climbs, backwards in time,

Reaching for the edge of space.

From here to there and back again,

She’s part of a weave of lace.”


“Said web of thread: life’s complexity,

An entanglement of inter-connectivity.”

“Indeed,” said he, “much like spaghetti –

Are the silken strands of totality.”


“For example,” he said, “imagine a place,

Far away, where a star is born.

Its dramatic emergence creates disturbance –

As might wind ripple fields of corn.”


“The mighty Oak who reaches high,

Whose splendid span in star-lit skies,

Whose leaves flex differently with each breeze,

She feels star-birth purl cosmic seas.”


“And so it is for every sound, for

Every murmur from all around:

 Every atom above or below ground,

As matter chatters a tune is found.”


“Crystal-walled this shrine may be, yet,

Bound by root and rocks.

Along deep tubers branching down,

 Comes resonance that never stops.”


“At first overwhelming,” he said affirming,

“The intensity of the cosmic voice: but,

You’ll come round to differentiating sound,

An experienced ear offers choice.”


“Ahh!” He enthused, “do you hear that?”

“Tiny wings beating of a tiny gnat!”

“Tis a language of sorts, sounds to enthrall –

Given time, you’ll learn them all.”


Then to and fro, back and forth,

He moved with practiced motion:

As if a task perfected in time,

Fluid in his locomotion.


With candles glowing, he slowing,

And turning, lowering his hood,

Aglow in flickering warm-peach light,

At the center of the shrine he stood.


“Welcome,” he said, “to the Hall of Dreams,

This helm, your home, your station.

Much has changed in ten-thousand years,

Since your last incarnation.”


~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 21) precedes this post. Part 23 to follow soon ~


Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 21)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 21) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


Split, spliced, sub-atomically sliced,

My subjectivity subdivided,

Transient ‘tween reality and dream,

In liminality I slowly glided.


A cloud was I, mere flecks and specks,

Motes afloat in space,

Amidst vast seas, evolving galaxies,

Drifting thro’ time and place.


Not ashen pale behind this veil,

Nor inked in darkly shade,

Here possibility embraced infinity,

Here, from light were all things made.


How long away I cannot say, nor

To what end I was bound, but

When awoken by a voice spoken,

I was treading ancient ground.


Fleet the beat of shuffling feet,

Through tunnels dank and dark,

‘Til came a time, a sharp decline,

Where bloomed a sudden spark.


A lantern lit, a flare of light,

A stair of steps, a downward flight,

B’twixt a twitchel tween tall walls,

Where torchlight blossomed bright.


Down we wound through lamp-lit grey,

To a door iron-braced,

A key inserted, a twist exerted,

Into a chamber we hasted.


Said chamber, more an anti-room,

Small, squat and square,

A late addition of fine construction,

Hewn after l was there.


Across the floor strut Nevermore,

Whilst I remained unmoved:

Entranced by tones of old flagstones,

That time and tread had smoothed.


To other side where no lamp lit,

Flit the striding crow,

An abrasive sound, stone sliding ground,

Then candle’s glistered glow.


Barely bright, dim pool of light:

A flickering honey-tone,

Lit a column with ball-claw bottom,

Carved artfully from stone.


Atop its top, finely honed,

A skull, translucent-white,

“A key,” said he mysteriously,

“Satin-spar, Selenite.”


“What will come, what will go,

This piece brings release.

Positivism, purity, fluid-like energy,

Attuned to deepest peace.”


“Alignment,” he said, “and activation,

For reaching higher planes.

Earth is but one conscious station,

Others exist in distant domains.”


Smiling he tossed the Satin-spar,

“Explore,” said he, “journey far.”

Then lifting the column from its mount,

“Follow me,” he turned about.


A shorter passage, an open door,

Polished stone upon the floor,

A lantern lit: soft peachy glow,

“Ah,” said I, “a place I know.”


~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 20) precedes this post. Part 22 to follow shortly ~


Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 20)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 20) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


Her words dripped like water-drops,

Spilled from cresting cliff-tops,

As rain they came showering me,

Spellbound upon the scree.


Slowly seeping, memories creeping,

Visions of a deepening mind.

Vibrant notions whirled in motion,

Thoughts couldn’t be confined.


This beach, these cliffs, this sea-view,

Doubtless was a coast I knew:

A magical place, a mystical space – but,

Was I just passing through?


No! I’d walked along this high headland,

Trod ancient tracks across the sand.

Wide-eyed I’d gazed in mindful wonder,

Immersed in realms lying yonder.


I’d seen sunshine light-up this shore,

The Moon illume its sandy floor,

I’d seen the cavern ‘neath this bight,

The ancient shrine hid from sight.


Piece-by-piece the puzzle grew,

More-and-more until I knew,

This dew-drenched jewel upon the shore,

Was steeped in legend, mythic lore.


Yes indeed, I’d been here before,

Countless times throughout my yore,

As if in procession, each a succession,

A returning recurring in time.


When last I’d heard Nightingale’s words –

Amidst shadow and candle glow: twas,

Another dawn of a new day born,

An Age lived long ago.


And so it was at morn’ this day,

Knowing my fate I made my way,

Descending scree, across the bay,

With her song at play in my ear.


“Hold steadfast to your path,

Don’t deviate your course.

Past will pass to you this day.

So too the vital force.”


Then face-to-face with Nevermore,

Who hooded, preened and gowned,

Dark as night shone with light:

Light rising from underground.


Whelmed was I by his glance,

Succumbed to magic, lost in trance.

In his glare I became aware,

Of my poignant circumstance.


From deep within inside of me,

An intensity I’d never known.

Twas if a power undefined,

Rose to claim my throne.


With push, punch, and potency,

A tide of unknown energy,

Swelled and surged forcefully,

As if intended with efficacy.


My heart lifted, my thoughts shifted,

My spirit floated on air.

All at once as if fragmented,

I was everywhere!


~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 19) precedes this post. Part 21 to follow shortly ~


~ Photography/Artwork ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 19)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 19) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


Flap, fuss, feathered rumpus,

Then snafus abruptly ended.

Back to flocks upon dark rocks,

Amongst the mass they blended.


Yet four remained as if restrained –

 Compelled or obligated,

At cardinal points about the crack,

Which lightening had created.


Stood East of me; West of he,

A Raven black and bold.

As dark as night but in this light,

Feathered purple, blue and gold.


His piercing stare laid me bare,

His eyes probed my soul,

Twas if he weighed the heart of me,

Or measured me as a whole.


Though squinting into brightening haze,

I unflinching held his gaze: and

Whilst no fear or troubling doubt,

Seeds of unease began to sprout.


When then again a shrilling chirp:

High upon the sunlit scarp.

From her perch on warming stones,

Revealing words, melodic tones.


“Tethers severed, spells untied,”

“Like brume,” she said, “Sentinels rise.”

“Sentries of Secrets, Stewards of Stones,

Guardians of Relics, Keepers of Bones.”


She paused briefly, albeit fleetingly,

Her song noted with mirth.

I attentively, listened carefully,

Eager for words of worth.

“In days of yore, beneath this shore:

An Age fabled in rhyme,

A sapient Sage with benign intent,

Found an ancient shrine.”


“Twas hidden deep at tunnel’s end,

A chamber hewn by hand,

From the shore a passage led,

Through sandstone rock inland.”


“At its core an upright block,

A stela of meteoric rock,

Precisely chiselled, polished, pristine,

Upon it carved, ‘Beholder’s Dream.”


“Enshrined behind this centre piece,

Within a crevice, between a crease,

Articles of virtu, objet d’art,

Sooth for a Sage’s spiritual heart.”


“There he practiced, honed his craft,

Learnt mystical ways, esoteric Arts.

Guided always in his endeavour,

By arcane texts, ineffable treasure.”


“Long years passed until at last,

His sagacity was unsurpassed.

More puissant than all who’d come before,

He the Raven called Nevermore!”


Silence lingered, when then she cried,

“Walk!” She urged, “be by his side.”

“The way is clear, dispel your fear,”

“Stride-on,” said she, “become the Seer.”


~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 18) precedes this post. Part 20 to follow shortly ~


Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 18)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 18) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


A cliffy crescent enclosed this bay,

East to West, curved each way,

To tapered ends sloping away,

Trailing into briny blue.


Tinting their tops, evergreen dell,

Candy glazed, greyness quelled.

Silhouetted trees, rouge rubbed leaves,

 Foliage flush with blush.


Yet fleetly flittering dewy pink rose,

Sweetly deposed by mellow,

A sallow light, weak and wan,

Skies awash with yellow.


Drab and drear upon the sheer,

Gleamed a flaxen sheen,

Dim and grim upon the scree,

Quickly fled the scene.


Across the bay shadow scurried,

Behind boulders shade hurried,

Hastened, hounded, harried on,

Mercilessly chased by waxen sun.


Not yet cresting cliffy peaks: but,

Rising steadily soon to peep,

Soon to illume gloaming gloom,

Rouse Stygian from deep sleep.


At talus top, my brightened mount,

Sat in wonderment, gazing out,

I felt displaced, but yet embraced,

Interlaced within this special place.


Inseparable was I from waking dream,

More than just a perfect scene,

It stirred me in ways most curious,

Left me heady, delirious.


Full to brimming, senses swimming,

Drinking-in the view,

Dank wet-through with heavy dew,

Soon drunk on nature’s brew.


When then within my dreaminess,

A memory, vague and nebulous,

As if an echo from long ago,

Had burrowed deep inside.


I felt so sure I knew this shore,

Twas more than evocation: yet,

This not the view it’d been before,

But a weathered approximation.


Quickly, quickly, in rapid succession,

Thoughts flowed in quick procession:

A magical mage, a secret shrine,

Murderous intent, an abandoned mine.


I had no need to pause and ponder,

Only to muse upon my wonder,

For wonder it was, this revelation:

Exchanging mystery for illumination.


But yet, neither resolved nor crystal clear,

Questions remained unanswered here.

What was the source of these sudden notions,

That deeply stirred my emotions?


Surprised perhaps, but not perturbed,

A voice inside me softly heard,

I recognised her songbird chime,

The soulful beat of Nightingale’s rhyme.


“Watch and wait my dear Seer,

Soon all doubt will disappear.

When magic flows you will know,

What is to see before thee.”


And so it was without surprise,

Atop the scree ‘neath dawning skies,

I sat in awe as flocks of birds,

Made haste towards the bay.


Skuas, Shags, and Razorbills,

Spilled upon the shore,

Gannets, Gulls and Guillemots,

Frenetic with furore.


Gathered at a point beyond the rocks,

Shrieking, flapping around,

As if encircling something unseen,

Something upon the ground.


But this wasn’t fever of frenzied birds,

Hungry, driven to feasting.

Snip! Snip! Snip! Scissoring threads,

Twas Sentinels they were releasing!


~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 17) precedes this post. Part 19 to follow shortly ~


Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 17)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 17) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


Darkness steeped in deep of sleep,

Twas last hour before the dawn,

West-wind blew, warm and true,

Encouraged a new day born.


Sensuous calm pervaded the shore –

A cackling Crow, but nothing more.

As if obeying ancient lore: sunrise

Was what life waited for.


No shroud of cloud or misty veil,

Venus glistered on wet shale.

She pearled in pools radiant jewels,

Her presence here palpable.


Indeed, tide had turned, ebbed away,

Grumbling still in tumbling play,

Quiet beyond the briny bight,

Beyond the reef, out of sight.


From my cosy I’d risen slowly,

Stepped stumbling across the strand,

To where a talus of tumbled rock,

 Lay fanned upon the sand.


Scrambling me scattering scree,

Until at height from the floor,

Better placed when daylight chased,

Shadows from sea-shore.


Upon a wedge of weathered stone,

Deep in thought, sat alone,

My spirit feathered, my heart untethered,

Unfettered in flighty reverie.


Soon clear to me I wasn’t alone –

No longer singular I,

For I resided undivided, in Love,

With one on high.


There Venus shone a sorceress star,

Spinning spells spilled from afar,

Soul-to-soul with me was she,

My celestial queen for eternity.


“I am the passion in your heart.

The fiery flame at each new start.

A wandering star just like thee,

Consort and guide, follow me.”


Breaking my dream a shrilling cry,

A flock of gulls hastened by,

Upon miry sand they quickly settled,

Amongst claggy rocks quietly nestled.


Gazing east towards the sun,

Soon to guild curved horizon,

There night skies already fading,

Traded gloom for lighter shading.


First one splinter then a crack,

Drapes of night drawing back,

Swiftly now darkness weakened,

In its stead brightness sweetened,.


Licks of light slick and bright,

Flecks of peach and tangerine,

Saffron hues spliced Prussian blues,

As morn’ awoke from dream.


A way away across the bay,

Atop sea-cliffs cast iron grey,

On razor edges, perilous ledges,

Rough ridges rendered rose.


~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 16) precedes this post. Part 18 to follow shortly ~


Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 16)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 16) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


Sweet Selene into dream descended,

Queen of gleam, her reign ended,

Apparelled in silver, a star suspended,

Herald of Dawn, Aurora ascended.


Entranced and gazing, contemplating,

Expectant, if not anticipating,

Waiting for first moment when,

Sunlight spilt on far horizon.


“Upon this hour, this perfect dawn,

When Venus declares new day born,

You will see, no longer doubt,

Open your eyes, look about!”


I was alone, stilled as stone,

Still bolstered by a boulder,

Twas hours since he made me wince,

His grip upon my shoulder.


That spectral form made manifest,

With zest left long ago,

Departed when a strong wind blew,

Returned to the energy flow.


“Wish,” he said, “I’ll be there,”

“Indeed,” he added, “I’m everywhere!”

“Tis what we Anemoi perpetually do,”

“God’s of Wind, breathe life into you.”


He had impressed, or firmly stressed –

Expressed applying pressure:

“Winter’s come, yet winter’s gone,

“From here-on life gets fresher.”


And so I’d sat in quiet retreat,

Cool damp sand beneath my feet,

Lulled by the lullaby of tidal beat,

As if in the dwam before deep sleep.


‘Tween dawning scenes and waking dreams –

Subliminal spaces undefined,

Within such places he’d opened seams:

Words waiting to be mined.


“Not yet adept, but versed I see –

Purveyor of words, rhyming poetry.

Believe or not, that is your choice, but

Lend your ear to my voice.”


‘Tis not by chance I’ve come to thee,

I’m hastened by Persephone,

Her season’s nigh, ’tis imminent,

For you that is a pivotal moment.”


“I’m Zephyrus Ferverous, the West Wind’s mine,

An agent of change for warm, light times.

Tis I whose breath, active, dynamic,

Blows your mind, lifts your lyric.”


“Perhaps dear friend, you’ve heard of me?”

I flutter feathers for Mercury.

If not for I, where would he be?

Breathless says I, pained by gravity!”


“It’s said I’m sombre, saturnine –

Stripping trees in Autumn time: but yet,

Mine’s the process encouraging decline,

Inspiring Nature to spring new vine.”


“Throughout great ages, old years of yore,

Hundreds I’ve known, Poet’s galore.

 I’ve been their remedy easing strife,

A breath of fresh air penning new life.”


~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 15) precedes this post. Part 17 to follow shortly ~


Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 15)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 15) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


Neither less diminished, nor less bright

The colour of the tendril’d light,

No longer glared ferocious white, but

Flared instead deep purple.


Twas if that lustre, an energetic flow,

Shone from within, an auric glow,

For this spirit, this spectre, this visitant,

Illumed at its core was scintillant.


So close to me I could sense,

Its halcyon sway, its resonance:

Calm, serene, with manner mild, yet,

Beneath its façade, something wild.


A quality hidden, I could not fathom,

An enigmatic edge to this balmy phantom,

 Twas more perception than certainty, but,

Beyond all doubt ambiguity.


Coiled, expectant, upon wet sand,

My head raised, tho’ I didn’t stand,

Eager was I to understand,

To figure-out what was at hand.


Whatever it was or wanted with me,

It posed no threat immediately,

For had it intended hostility,

Why delay swift victory?

I watched and waited, hesitated,

Ill at ease and agitated, but,

Not disquieted or prone to ruffle,

This eidolon meant me no trouble.


I lifted my eyes towards night skies,

Gazed upwards at the being,

To my surprise ‘neath hooded guise,

A face was now appearing!


Indeed this spectre was solidifying –

Fleshing out with skin and bone,

A man it was, aged, well-weathered,

Long beard of pearl-grey tone!


Upon his face inscribed ink-blue,

Signs and seals, arcane tattoos,

Those I saw inspired the notion:

Symbols for wind, time and motion.

Mere moments later he was complete:

Manifest from head to feet,

Clothed and cloaked in drapery,

He exuded an air of mystery.


Wide-eyed was I, surprised, aghast,

An apparition in flesh recast! But,

What was this inexplicable sorcery,

This mesmerism in front of me?


Fully formed he took one stride,

Closer still until beside –

Beside the side of my right-hand side,

Then reached to touch my shoulder.


As reflex reaction to his action,

I blenched and flinched away,

Yet neither my shiver nor my quiver,

Dislodged his hand where it lay.


Without hiss, or cackle, or ghostly rattle,

Without menace to excite my fear,

Words I heard whispering,

In tones soft, deep and clear.


~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 14) precedes this post. Part 16 to follow shortly ~


Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 14)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 14) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


Beating retreat, flaming less bolder,

Dampened ash, smoking smoulder,

Wisps and whirls and hoary purls,

Swirled about the figure curling.


A furtive glimpse quickly stolen,

This flaring fiend from fire woven,

Feathers furled, glistered golden,

Rippled as if molten motion.


Twas spectral without solidity.

An entity with lucidity,

A translucent vision, an apparition,

An ethereal being beyond description.


It stood or floated, perhaps it hovered,

Black in body, face covered –

A formless shape in cloak or cape,

Shifting, drifting in the breeze.


Tho’ briefly seen thro’ fire’s sheen –

Beyond a screen of rising thermal,

I had no doubt what looked out,

Nothing less than paranormal.


Compelled to gawp, gape and gaze,

Across the sand thro’ dying blaze,

I watched the spectre turn its head,

In my direction its leer was led.


I knew it saw me, I felt its glare:

Stabbing with its piercing stare,

Seized by eyes that were not there,

I was entrapped, ensnarled, ensnared.


Fervid fear in my stomach pit,

Bit with bile, dried my spit,

Ill at ease without my wits,

I hunkered down ‘neath rock parapet.


I shot quick glance across the bay:

A place of refuge to make my way,

But alas! Only towering cliffs of grey,

Surrounded the cove ascending away.


Stalled and stilled, static, inert,

Fingers raked through dampened dirt –

In hope of bough or sturdy staff,

Something solid to defend myself.


Yet barren about me upon the sand,

No robust tool came to hand,

Frantic was I when in my sight,

Came creeping tendrils of waxen light.


These pallid blooms probing gloom,

Opaque at first grew brighter,

Until in fact ‘tween every crack,

Shone shafts of light ever whiter.


Where umbra hid behind my boulder,

Soon bathed in light, blazing bolder –

Darkness illumed, shade consumed,

My shadow set in silhouette.


So sudden before me towering tall,

The spectral form of this faceless ghoul,

Stood staring down upon my crown,

As fear further fed my dread.


But yet, I sensed no menace or malevolence,

No prevalence of maleficence,

Instead a palpable benevolence –

A quality of graceful elegance.


~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 13) precedes this post. Part 15 to follow shortly ~


Copse ‘N’ Corpse (Part 13)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 13) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


Rain fell lashing in puddles splashing,

Whilst sea surged dashing rocks: but,

One moment tender paused to linger,

Soft lips interlocked.


Posed embracing whilst he bracing,

Pulled her closer still.

As if as one, both overcome,

Tears begun to spill.


About his hand her fingers curled,

In which his precious heart was held,

“Come what may,” I heard her say,

“Together forever night and day.”


A way away upon high land,

In reach of us upon low sand,

A bell sung-out the hour at hand:

Sending forth its one demand.


“Come my love, we can’t delay,”

“Perpetuity exists beyond the grey,”

“Our time has come, we must be gone,”

“Spirited far, far away.”


Closer still, now limpet tight,

Entwined upon this stormy night,

In yearning to escape their plight,

She moved her hand to make it right.


His withered heart from cloth unrolled,

B’twixt black sack, poke of old,

Placed in a space with tender care,

Nightingale eased his aching despair.


Wide-eyed was I, and so entranced,

This lurid love an exquisite romance.

I dared not blink, for if by chance,

I missed their changing circumstance.


Twas then a flash of jagged light,

A flailing chord lightning white,

Lit bright the dark of darkly night,

Blinded me, blurred my sight.


That searing bolt of brilliant hue,

Raced at pace, fast and true,

Struck both lovers still infused,

Bored deep into the floor.


Bedrock shattered, fragments scattered,

Sand fused as glassine,

Never before in all my yore

Had I witnessed such a scene!


So sudden was this manifestation:

This pyrotechnic aberration,

With thunder came conflagration,

Scorching heat, decimation!


Air dense with dirt, dust, debris,

With flame and smoke engulfing me,

I was lifted-up, blown-around,

Thrown down hard on sodden ground.


Dazed, confused, battered, bruised,

Breathless, pale with shock,

Slipping, sliding, intent on hiding,

I scrambled to the rocks.


Slumped behind a craggy boulder,

I chanced quick glance across my shoulder,

To where beyond the blistering blaze,

A shadow loomed in rippling haze.


~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 12) precedes this post. Part 14 to follow shortly ~


~ Artwork by Dewin Nefol ~


Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 12)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 12) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


Thunder-clapped, tumultuous applause,

Gods raged above sand shores,

Air sizzled, rain drizzled,

Lightning seared swelled sea.


Anvil headed storm-cloud stacks,

Night squeezed ‘tween black cracks,

In darkness shared with dark company,

Nevermore reached tentatively.


Woody tips touched mort-cloth strips:

 Grasped gently at the bundle,

Nightingale squeaked, urgency piqued,

Overhead thunder rumbled.


Twas as if he held a priceless gift:

An item o so precious.

Cradling his savaged heart,

Left him o so breathless.


He paused for a moment, head titled,

Hand stilted unbinding rag:

As if in peeling, unwrapping, revealing,

Disclosure made him sad.


I knew so little of his fate,

Nor of his days of life: but yet,

Twas plain to see in each degree,

His suffering, his sorrow, his strife.


I sensed his misgiving, his acute unease,

Tho’ certain was I he’d be appeased.

Yet each turn of cloth he moved farther,

His demeanour deepened ever darker.


“My fate,” said he, “a pitiful end,”

“So sudden, stabbed with pain.”

“Such gloom consumes this heavy heart,”

“Would I desire to feel it again?”


“Yes yes my love,” Nightingale said,

“But sweet is our memory.”

“Dread being dead can’t hurt us now,”

“Together for eternity.”


She flapped and flew to his hand,

Perched resting on a finger,

She looked at he so lovingly,

Before once more a singer.

“Neath deep sea life lay drowned,”

“In mort-cloth was your heart enwound,”

“But to my heart your love is bound,”

“For in my soul your soul is found.”


“So near,” she sung, “so nearly free,”

“Feel the love I have for thee.”

“Come my love, journey with me,”

“Beyond the stars to infinity.”


I heard her mutter, watched her flutter,

Quickly she flew my view.

When then of a sudden, no-longer hidden,

As a ghost she returned hitherto.


More beautiful than I first recalled,

Ethereal as a Luna-moth,

Crouched on sand she took his hand,

Teased away stained cloth.


Timed just right, a lightening strike,

As to his lips she pressed her own.

“Don’t be afraid,” she softly sung,

“Tis time to come on home.”


~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 11) precedes this post. Part 13 to follow shortly ~


Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 11)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 11) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


For an hour or more upon seashore,

Huddled near haggard rocks,

Beneath full bloom of a silvery Moon,

Beholding the metal box.


Nevermore hadn’t moved,

Nor had he said a word,

Lips tight-stitched, gaze transfixed,

As was the lyrical bird.


He looked at peace but underneath,

I knew he was perturbed.

Inside he fumed, his thoughts consumed,

By all that had occurred.


In rage-wet eyes bitterness lingered,

In balled fists anger hungered,

Long lost years spilt as tears:

Damp tracts on hessian sack.


At length he turned, looked at me,

His face devoid of misery,

In its stead a smile had spread,

Spread glinting in his eyes.


He bowed his head in gratitude,

Removed his gunny hood,

“One thing more I ask of you,”

Then slowly rose and stood.


Between his robes of plastic clothes,

He reached a woody hand.

A short crowbar with chamfered tip,

Was placed upon the sand.


“Please,” he said, “prise the box,”

“I have no strength to do it.”

“Slowly, slowly if you please,”

“My heart, do not tear it.”


And so it was I set about,

My task an assiduous affair:

Gently probing ‘tween seams corroding,

Jamming the jemmy with care.


Minutes passed when then at last,

Box and lid separated.

Although enclosed was not exposed,

Twas a moment long awaited.


The silent Chat sat no more,

Fluttered feathers and to the floor,

Flew to view what lay in store,

Inside the metal box.


Eager, excited, indeed delighted,

Unburdened of her pity,

She cooed to embolden Nevermore,

Trilled an enchanting ditty.


He adoring gazed down at her,

She gazed up at him,

Then carefully he raised the lid,

To see what lay within.


A bundle bound in oilskin rag,

Wrapped inside a mort-cloth bag,

Lay betwixt two rustic roods,

In an open box of wood.


When then a sound from all around,

As if a quiet humming,

Feint at first, grew and grew,

Became a thunderous drumming!


~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 10) precedes this post. Part 12 to follow shortly ~


Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 10)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 10) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


Fingers of light scything bright,

Cool mist upon the sea,

A golden glaze through wispy haze,

Reached-out to welcome me.


Stroke by stroke I made my way,

Slowly, slowly towards the bay,

In my wake undulating grey,

Fumed at my trespass.

Soft sand at last between my toes,

Firm ground, a rocky shore.

Upon the beach I sat me down,

To one side laid Nevermore.


A way away a tolling buoy,

Feint echo of a bell,

Faded, fading, evaporating,

Fell silent in briny swell.


Tired, overcome, exhausted, undone,

Sore eyes saw nothing more.

Sprawled on sand, safe on land,

Soon asleep upon the shore.


For an age I slept in warming sun,

 Adrift in curious dreams:

Untethered, untied, like a boat afloat,

Or a mote borne on jet-streams.


I awoke ‘neath a cloak of shimmering stars,

Glinting on brocade and crewel,

Each shone bright with crystallised light,

Each was a glistening jewel.


Moths and Loons hailed the Moon:

Selene a hoary orb,

The bay alive with silvered life,

In her light were absorbed.


One large Moth black as night,

Spiralled down in my sight,

It came to land on-top of rocks,

Close beside the metal box.


I saw it settle, raise dark wings,

Lift its head, heard it sing,

It called to others close nearby,

A quiet lament for one who’d died.


Before my eyes, to my surprise,

Through an eclipse of flutter-by’s,

Darkness shifted, a shadow drifted,

A hooded figure stood tall.


Tall and slight, dark as night,

No robes or clothes around him:

Instead four-bags tied with string,

Were tightly bound to wooden limbs.


In his hand perched Nightingale,

Sat silent without lament,

Both he and she gazed longingly,

Knowing of the box’s content.


Removing his hat the Scarecrow sat,

Sat crossed-legged upon dry sand,

Swift and true Nightingale flew,

Flew to land on my hand.


~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 9) precedes this post. Part 11 to follow shortly ~


Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 9)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 9) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


Freeing tight choke of binding ropes,

I brushed aside dirt and debris,

With padlock sighted, I delighted,

Reaching for Nightingale’s key.


My body shook, fingers fumbled,

Numbness harried my hand,

Slowly inserting, mechanism turning,

Box unlocked upon the sand!


But rusted, encrusted, tightly sealed,

It wouldn’t open, wouldn’t yield!

Wasted seconds for I had no time,

Intention turned to freeing my line.


Chaffed red raw, my limb rubbed sore –

By a cable firmly tied.

It wouldn’t free or let go of me,

No matter how hard I tried.


Close to frantic, in utmost panic,

My thoughts confused, unclear,

Yet amidst such churning, a quiet stirring,

My mind brought forth an idea.


Away to my right, in my sight,

Part-hidden, housed in grey,

A truck of steel, upright on wheels,

Upon tracks of iron lay.


Stumbling, staggering, I made my way,

The box clasped tight to my chest,

Now burning within, lungs starving,

But no time to pause or rest.


Beside one side of the rusting truck,

I knelt upon the floor,

What hope I had rewarded luck:

This wagon empty of mined-ore.


Pressing my weight against its side,

I pushed for all my worth,

Sliding my line beneath its wheel,

I rocked it back and forth.


Such a motion caused commotion:

The sea awash with debris.

But evidently clear as I peered,

The line was fraying nicely!


With one final heave the line broke,

My limb, my body, set free!

No longer a shroud, a thickly cloak,

I hastened to flee the sea!


Upon sand floors, through hung doors,

My legs strove to stride,

Once outside the cavernous mine,

I ascended assisted by tide.


Upwards, upwards, towards sunlight,

Swimming hard with all my might,

Breaking free, escaping dark sea,

Nevermore’s heart accompanying me.


I surfaced gasping in briny swell,

Lungs inflating, breathlessness dispelled,

Buoyant was I amidst cresting foam,

Turning, turning, yearning for home.


~ Cope ‘n’ Corpse (Part 8) precedes this post. Part 10 to follow shortly ~


Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 8)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 8) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


Hollowed by nature, hewn by hand,

This entrance with an arching span,

Spanned a space squat and wide,

Room aplenty to squeeze inside.


Tumbled boulders flanked both sides,

Sand lay strewn at whim of tides, yet,

Clear divide upon sea-bed,

Where rusting rail-tracks led.


Tho’ little remained of timber frames,

Columns of wood stood tall,

Below its mantle remnants dangled:

Derelict doors about to fall.


Tho’ dark and dingy I could see,

Inside the cave in front of me.

What little light infused deep grey,

Revealed a dismal passageway.


All this I saw with one quick glance:

An image blurred as if in trance,

Yet easily distracted, my eye attracted,

To where above the mine hung a sign.


In stark contrast to sand and sea,

Affixed to rock horizontally,

Painted in red, ‘Beware!’ I read.

‘Unsafe! Abandoned Mine!’


But time was pressing, lungs stressing,

My dilemma as yet unsolved.

With firmer resolve I renewed my haste,

Quickened my pull, upped my pace.


Pinewood slats where blockading doors,

Lay ruined upon sea floor.

Through this opening I scurried forth,

Hand-over-hand for all my worth.


A short way in the cable thinned:

Twas frayed to just one wire.

Diminished in size it began to rise,

Vertically higher and higher.


To sea-floor I threw my coiled line:

Gathered en route to the disused mine,

It weighted me down upon the ground,

 By its action aiding my traction.


But yet, it was this line about my limb,

Tightly knotted, chaffing skin,

Which bound me here inside this hole:

Too heavy to carry, swim and haul.


I stumbled forwards towards cave wall,

Felt gentle currents push and pull,

Hands took hold of slippery rock,

I climbed to where the wire stopped.


Stretching upwards, stood on toes,

Reaching where my line goes:

Inside a fissure formed in fractured rock,

Wherein it coiled about a box.


Tightly held, secured fast,

A box small in size, from metal cast.

Rusted, dusted but still intact,

Its casing complete, without a crack.


With urgent fumbling, rock-wall crumbling,

At last the box tumbled down.

It lay on sea floor where I could see more,

More of the box I’d found.

Still locked, bound, chained around,

Still tied with rotting rope,

I hurried my hand to find the lock,

Believing there was still hope.


~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 7) precedes this post. Part 9 to follow shortly ~


Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 7)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 7) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


Deep, dark, unsettling murk,

Gaping gaps where creatures lurked,

Small fish swished, sped and swam,

Hurried, scurried, scattered, scrammed.


Bumped, bruised, breathless, confused,

My body scratched and scraped,

Turning, twisting, without desisting,

Persisting despite my aches.


Hastening hard along the line,

When I saw a light source shine.

Twas dull at first, as if submersed,

Diffused by silt each tidal burst.


But a light is was, a beaming ray,

Through salty sea had made its way,

To shine brightly in caliginous grey:

Illume small space to survey.


Straining to see through sombre sea,

I was convinced beyond all doubt,

Bubbles flowed and quickly rose,

Rising from a thermal spout.


Not just one bubble but a stream!

A string of bubbles ascending!

Could it be oxygen being vented?

Or anoxic gas quickly lamented?


Whilst tied by cable down below,

I had no choice but to go.

Investigate pearlescent glow,

Or else forgo my life!


Closer now, said shaft of light,

Glowed at depths to my right.

Twas pale but sufficiently bright,

To guide me to the venting site.


Kicking hard ‘tween coral shards,

Through kelp and rocky reef,

I hauled down hard on seaweed stems,

Towering from way beneath.


The shaft of light now dim in glim,

Pooled on something glistening.

Mineral matter from a vent,

Scattered the floor as sediment.


Cautious, despairing, in need of airing,

Fearing hot toxic stew,

I slammed a hand into the flow,

Watched as bubbles bubbled through.


Cool to touch, no smell or scent,

I placed my mouth to the vent,

Then squatting down upon the ground,

Breathed-in effervescence.


Oxygen rich was a heady mix,

I succumbed to disorientation.

Yet held by cable, I felt enabled,

Buoyed by oxygenation.


With lungs inflated, spirit elated,

Once again pursuing the line,

To where extended it abruptly ended,

Beyond slats of shattered pine.


If not for absence of silt and debris,

Or flourishing fields of swaying kelpie,

I’d never have seen where cable led:

To a cavernous opening on seabed.


Twas entrance to a deserted mine,

Abandoned from an earlier time,

When long before sea-water tore,

 Crumbled dry land upon the shore.


~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 6) precedes this post. Part 8 to follow shortly ~


Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 6)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 6) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


Fumbling around upon the ground,

In hope of finding Nevermore,

But only cold sea, sand and debris,

Lay upon the ocean-floor.


Pain in my chest urgently pressed,

 Encouraged me to rise.

‘Stay to long,’ echoed Nightingale’s song,

‘You’ll be gone with the tide.’


‘Quickly, quickly,’ I quietly thought,

Hands busied yet finding naught,

Fretful, anxious, flurried, fraught,

Eager to find the box I sought.


With little purchase in sea-bed,

My body buoyed, elevated,

Currents coursed, quickly shifted,

So to I quickly drifted.


Pushed and pulled to-and-fro,

Caught unaware by tidal flow,

With anchorage lost: I’d let go,

Hauled away by undertow.


I tumbled, twisted, turned, spun,

All sense of direction verily undone,

Which way up, which way down,

Whirled was I around, around.


How far I travelled, how far flung?

Swiftly currents carried me on,

Faster, faster, further away: was it

Out to sea or towards the bay?


Til dragged upon a craggy reef:

Saw-tooth coral with rock beneath.

Bubbles of air escaped clenched teeth,

Breathless now I had to breathe.


I looked above towards dull glow,

Fifty feet, not far to go,

Yet something coiling down below,

Reached for me from shadow.


Harder I tried, tighter it tied,

Entwining about my limb.

I couldn’t see what held me:

Tethered unable to swim.


Desperate for air, lungs hurting,

I reached to grasp the vine-like thing,

Fingers reached, searched and found,

A tenacious tentacle holding me down.


Twas a thickly line, perhaps a cable,

Heavy-set but yet still able,

To rise and full on current’s whim,

To grab and grapple everything.


Now tautly bound around my skin,

Doubtless tightened by my struggling,

I couldn’t release its grip on me:

Escape this fate and flee.


Tiring quickly, my thinking slow,

Weakened with no oxygen flow,

With seconds passing I decided to go,

Deeper still into coral growth.


Twas where the cable must’ve led,

Secured somehow to rocky-bed,

Perhaps if I could free it there?

Free myself, surface for air.


Dismal depths where shadow loomed,

Confining spaces, constricted room,

Jagged jaws, ragged rock,

Coral snagged but I didn’t stop.


~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 5) precedes this post. Part 7 to follow shortly ~


Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 5)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 5) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


Briny cold sea swallowed me,

Stole breath from my lungs,

In need of air I reached for where,

Braced iron formed ladder rungs.


I grasped gasping as sea-salt rasping,

Purged my throat and gut.

Twas all I could do not to spew,

Holding tight the metal strut.


Chills spilled, ice-water steeped,

Cold crept under my skin,

Frigid sea penetrated me,

Seeped deep-down within.


I took one moment to adjust,

Gathered my wits before I rushed,

Once more beneath ocean waves,

Kicking my legs for thrust.


Beneath the buoy a wire thread,

Led down into the sea,

With hands gripping, grip slipping,

I hauled-line ahead of me.


What little light grew less bright,

Whilst deeper I descended,

A murky gloom as if in a tomb,

Into gloaming depths extended.


About half-way, or so I thought,

Line gave way to chain,

Heavily rusted, barnacle encrusted,

Ripped my hands again, again.


What drove me on beyond this mark,

Towards sea-bed in the dark?

Nothing more than a promise made,

To free a heart lost in shade.


Insistant pain hindered my gain,

But downwards I persisted,

Pressure pressed with relentless zest,

Yet somehow I resisted.


When then touch-down upon the ground:

Feet sinking in silt sand.

 Darkness stole all sight from me,

Here in this fluid land.


By sense of touch I fumbled around,

Fingers feeling for a casket bound,

Enwound by chain, leaden blocks:

Layered silt, heavy rocks.


Whether by luck or curious fate: not a box,

But a tether of significant weight,

 Taut and tied to a riveted-plate,

Headed away, straight across the floor.


Without pause or hesitation,

Nor deviation from this line,

I pulled along at rapid pace,

Knowing there was little time.


Between rough rocks, through kelp sward,

 Hastening quicker, swimming hard,

Until the cable slackened, frayed:

My head reeled, my heart dismayed.


Frantic with panic in claggy sea,

I let go the line guiding me,

Both hands grabbled across the floor,

Desperately searching for Nevermore.


Short of air, close to despair,

Unanchored from iron chain,

With lungs burning, silt churning,

My will began to wain.


~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 4) precedes this post. Part 6 to follow shortly ~


Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 4)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 4) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


The sea a grey tenebrous blue,

An expanse of nondescript hue,

Sepia fog restricted our view,

Easing out beyond the bay.


About the boat soft pitter-patter,

Raindrops fell, gently splattered.

Old oak oars splashed and spliced,

Propelling our flotation device.


Silent but for Nightingale’s song,

A quiet lament for one long gone,

Whose bonded heart beats o so strong,

 Whose tender love lives on-and-on.


Wave at our bow, wake at stern,

Sailing onwards, never turned,

Through mist, murk and mystery,

Closer to the heart of he.


With arms straining, hands sore,

Distant from far sandy shore,

Our boat pushed on quickly now,

Deeper into claggy cloud.


“Not far! Not far!” Nightingale sang:

Lifted in spirit as a buoyed-bell rang.

“Quickly, quickly,” she said to me,

“Save my love, set him free.”


When then a smudge of orange hue,

A florescent shade disrupted blue,

A spherical buoy secured by chain,

Topped an iron-strutted frame.


“Yes, yes,” cried the excited Chat,

Now sat on the floating form.

She’d curtailed her whine, secured a line,

Tied our boat to the platform.


Whilst I prepared Nightingale aired

Instructions for my task.

It wouldn’t do being confused,

‘Neath the sea I couldn’t ask.


“Dive, dive,” the songbird said,

“Dive to where the cable’s led.”

“Down, down, plunge straight ahead,”

“Down until you touch sea-bed.”


“There on the floor lies Nevermore.”

“In a box chained and weighted.”

“Loosen rocks, undo locks,”

“And my love is liberated.”


Perhaps now bolder to my shoulder,

She flew and nestled down.

“Safe and sound, soon homeward bound,”

“Soon back on firmer ground.”


A sudden swell tolled the bell,

As if warning of our trespass.

“Hurry, hurry, the tides do scurry,”

“Deep currents move so fast.”


She fluttered feathers then to my hand,

Perched resting on a finger.

“Stay too long you’ll be gone,”

“Neither pause nor linger.”


From my pocket I pulled the key,

Twas tied to thread carefully.

About my wrist I bound it tight,

Within my reach, within my sight.


 Then to the edge of our boat,

One step further onto the float,

Which rolled, tolled, tipped and pitched,

Ditching me in the sea.


~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 3) precedes this post. Part 5 to follow shortly ~