The Lykewake Of Morag: A Poem By Pete Marshall

The Lykewake Of Morag: 

A Poem By Pete Marshall

The crows would circle high above

As death would waken on the ground

A hand would stretch and flick its claws

To trap the prey that swooped on down.

As feathers fell on sodden earth

And float as boats upon the breeze

Bones would crunch and blood would splay

That fed the Scarecrows dark disease.

The haar would creep along the links

As song was heard beyond the hill

The tabor marked the lykewake start

As clans would bow and mourn their still.

Upon the beach the waves would crash

And curse and spit their maddened angst

The mortcloth lay across her soul

As friends would come and offer thanks.

Through wynd and vennel souls would part

As spirits fled the darkened streets

The Scarecrow watched in silent thought

Whilst winds would blow through mans deceit.

And dirks were drawn at Morag’s hame

As Chiefs would curse their spoken vow

Blades would clash and wounds were deep 

But one remained to tell this tale…….

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This is my poem for One Shot Wednesday, run by One Stop Poetry, a fast growing community for poets & writers of all genres to share their work, express and make friends

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Image courtesy creative commons flickr http://www.flickr.com/photos/artbel/