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Three Drops from a Cauldron

Three Drops from a Cauldron

Monthly Archives: December 2015

The Blue Children by Nancy Scott

31 Thursday Dec 2015

Posted by three drops from a cauldron in poetry

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

children, folklore, legend, Nancy Scott, orphans, poem, poetry, witches

The Blue Children
(or Why You Best Not Go Where the Sun Don’t Shine)

Two children appeared in front of the bookseller’s shop
+++on the last day of December.
Perhaps their skin was blue because it was so cold
+++and they wore thin, strange-looking clothes,
or they’d come from deep below where everyone was blue,
+++never having felt the warmth of the sun.
The good baker and his wife took in the children, outfitted
+++them in proper clothes against the winter chill
and fed them fresh milk and wholesome bread made in
+++the baker’s oven. Soon the children’s skin turned
a bright rosy color. The baker and his wife adopted the two,
+++who now resembled their other six children.

One warm spring night, the boy and girl lured the other
+++children into the woods and coaxed them along
the river that led to the neighboring town.
+++They skipped and twirled with childish glee
until their way was suddenly blocked by a fearsome sight.
+++The wild-looking hag, known as Wollenspit,
had climbed up from a world beneath the river,
+++and was sporting a buzzard on her shoulder.
She had long blue hair, blue skin, and bloody stumps
+++instead of fingers. The children stood terrified.
She’d come to claim her children, but she couldn’t tell
+++which ones were hers. All were rosy colored,
not a single one was blue.

Alas, she said, her voice a rumbling earthquake, my children
+++obviously aren’t here. They’ve escaped for good.
She twisted the buzzard’s head from front to back
+++and disappeared into the river.
The children ran all the way home, climbed into their beds
+++and never spoke a word about what they’d seen.
As for the two who had arrived blue, they didn’t come
+++to breakfast. No one in town ever saw them again.


 

Nancy Scott is managing editor of U.S.1 Worksheets, the journal of the U.S.1 Poets’ Cooperative in New Jersey, which has met continuously since 1973. She has also authored eight collections of poetry on various subjects, including social justice, humor, ekphrasis, memoir, fairy tales, and her career as a social worker assisting homeless families and abused children. She frequently exhibits her collages and acrylics in juried shows and in online and print venues. www.nancyscott.net

All the Better by Finola Scott

30 Wednesday Dec 2015

Posted by three drops from a cauldron in poetry

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Tags

fairy tales, Finola Scott, poem, poetry, red riding hood

All the Better

Oh I’m not scared
these woods don’t bother me.

Briar and bramble, resin and rose,
furry floor velvet.

Deep and dark, teacher whispers,
Stay on the path.

Well I didn’t and I’m safe
here with Granny. She’s

asleep - must have a cold,
snoring so loud,

rough rumbles shake the roof.
Until she wakes I’ll wait

cooried in my woollen cloak.
It’s red, not rosy like Mummy’s cheeks.

No, it’s dark like the sweet blood
when I scratch deep on my skin.

Deep and dark the village mutters
while lonely trees croon to me,

Step through, play in here,
stay in here.

Wolves, folk say.
Silly nonsense.

I wish they’d stop
telling me stories.


Finola Scott is a slam-winning Granny who writes short stories and poems. She has won competetions at national level. Her work is widely available in many anthologies, magazines and zines. Recently she has moved into recording podcasts. She can be found performing in a pub near you! Hobbies included chocolate and tickling grandchildren.

St Stephen’s Day by David Callin

27 Sunday Dec 2015

Posted by three drops from a cauldron in poetry

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Tags

Boxing Day, celebrations, Christmas, David Callin, folklore, legend, poem, poetry, winter

St. Stephen’s Day

The wren’s untouchable, except today.
Once upon a time, we all turned out
to chase her through the village, all the way

to messy ends in middens and in ditches.
With drums and whistles, in a merry rout,
we solemnize the harrying of witches.


David Callin lives in what he likes to call the Deep South of the Kingdom of the Isles. On a clear day he can see almost everything. He has had poems in The Journal, Envoi, Cake and Prole, among others, and also online in Snakeskin, Ink, Sweat & Tears and Antiphon.

The Nutcracker by Petra Vergunst

24 Thursday Dec 2015

Posted by three drops from a cauldron in poetry

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Tags

ballet, Christmas, legend, magic, Petra Vergunst, poem, poetry, toys

The Nutcracker

Not the swishing of swords
or the cries of mouse warriors
but the swirl of wind through
the opened door lingered

That whoosh took dancers by surprise:
soft snow had silenced his steps
no crunch of shoes on the gritty pavement

The loud knock on the door still echoed
when Clara slipped downstairs
untied the velvet ribbon
folded back crisp paper

She chose not for the slow
crack of a walnut
but broke the night with a yawn
soft gasps interwove with castanets
the swing of a waltz
soft, soothing sitars
until another tap of knuckles
on the wooden door
dissolved her dream


*This poem was performed at the Con Anima choir concert, Aberdeen on 12 December 2015, so first appeared in print in their concert programme.

Petra Vergunst is an Aberdeen-based freelance community artist, poet and composer currently writing on the themes of music, sound and silence. Her poetry has appeared in amongst others Ink, Sweat and Tears, The Stare’s Nest, The Open Mouse, Poetry Scotland, Nutshells and Nuggets and various anthologies. www.musicforcommunities.blogspot.com

Mirror by Stephen Bone

23 Wednesday Dec 2015

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evil queen, fairy tale, magic mirror, poem, poetry, Snow White, Stephen Bone

Mirror

I hang before her like an oval moon.
In me her vanity gloats, imperfections shown;

a grey hair or increase in her tapered waist
is enough to bring her blood to a rolling boil.

None are safe.
Those whose youth and fairness I’ve exposed,

she has had worked to the bone
in her silk mills or worse. I would if I could -

to spare them from her green eyed spleen -
flatter her with my silver tongue,

but it is impossible for me to lie.
And now, a high born comes, hair blacker

than obsidian, skin white as starlight,
some say, snow.


Stephen Bone‘s work has appeared in various journals including Smiths Knoll, The Interpreter’s House, The Rialto and in online magazines such as Ink, Sweat & Tears, Snakeskin, The Lake. His first collection In The Cinema was published by Playdead Press in 2014.

Tituba by Meggie Royer

20 Sunday Dec 2015

Posted by three drops from a cauldron in poetry

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Tags

folklore, history, magic, Meggie Royer, poem, poetry, Salem, usa, witch hunts, witchcraft, women

Tituba

It was I, Your Honor. I who left the marigolds
in the sheets of her bed, the mice in her morning milk.
You can call it witchcraft if you like.
But when the horizon broke open into yolk,
she was better for it.
She ran for the trees, through poplar and oak,
dress waving like all her dead children.
She was gone from him, I’ll tell you that.
What I do was never spoken of.
Just my darkness, how far I was willing to go.
Your Honor, she wanted to flee and not be led,
world red before her without blood,
husband in her doorway with an ax.


Meggie Royer is a writer and photographer from the Midwest who is currently majoring in Psychology at Macalester College. Her poems have previously appeared in Words Dance Magazine, The Harpoon Review, Melancholy Hyperbole, and more. She has won national medals for her poetry and a writing portfolio in the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, and was the Macalester Honorable Mention recipient of the 2015 Academy of American Poets Student Poetry Prize.

Wizard Stick by Paul Tristram

19 Saturday Dec 2015

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legend, magic, myth, Paul Tristram, poem, poetry, witch, wizard

Wizard Stick

It is his eyes which unnerve you the most.
The pots and jars of powders and potions
shelving the walls of his hermitage,
the cauldron smouldering herbally away,
perched in the amber, shadowed hearth
and the broomstick which he sweeps
the entrance with on a New Moon
lose most of their surprise and curiosity
after brief acknowledgement and familiarity.
But his eyes, piercingly intense, dancingly alive,
not filled with any malice or ill intent,
it’s the focus and power to transparent you through.
That, and the Staff, never more than three foot
(A magic number!) away from his beckoning hand,
with its raven feathers, dangling owl claw,
Peridot head and burnt runes spiralling its surface
are enough to question whether the questions
you have brought, tied up in your throat are
really the things in your life Witch need answering?

 

Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet. Buy his book ‘Poetry From The Nearest Barstool’ at http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1326241036 And also read his poems and stories here! http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/

Jawbones Strong and Poisonous by Wild Soft

18 Friday Dec 2015

Posted by three drops from a cauldron in poetry

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Tags

collaborative, folklore, magic, poem, poetry, usa, Wild Soft, winter

Jawbones Strong and Poisonous

Draw me back into myself.
Please, give me
a page half lit by mother sun.
I will use it to find who I am—
lift this fog and I will find my way to the labyrinth’s center.

The complex core of me
woven intricate
wool carpet gives in bedrooms
where only women sleep.

Ghost awaits the return of coyote-cry,
presses fingertips to leaded glass
and fogs it with her haunting.
Her love letters
shaped of what remains—stacked stones.
Hard frost.


*First published in Still: The Journal

Wild Soft makes her home on the banks of the Ohio River. Her work appears in such places as Stone Telling, Room, Wild Quarterly, and Still; her first chapbook, in these cups, is forthcoming (dancing girl press). She is the collaboration of poets Nicci Mechler, Hilda Weaver, Wendy Creekmore, & Kristin Koester. Blog: wildandsoft.wordpress.com.

 

Out Now (finally!) - Midwinter Special 2015 (Part Two)

17 Thursday Dec 2015

Posted by three drops from a cauldron in flash fiction, poetry, Seasonal Special

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Boxing Day, Christmas, fairy tales, faith, flash fiction, folklore, frost, ice, legends, myths, poetry, religion, snow, winter, wolves

After a short delay, I’m happy to present Part Two of the Midwinter Special 2015!

Featuring poetry and flash fiction by: Jackie Biggs, Linda Goulden, Bethany Rivers, Cindy Rinne, Dennis Trujillo, Mary Franklin, Chris Hemingway, Ruth Sabath Rosenthal, J.S. Watts, Marilyn Finlay, Irene Buckler, Rebecca Gethin, Allen Ashley, Matthew Harrison, Paul Tristram, C.I. Selkirk, A.C. Grant, Monica Shah, Lynne Viti, Nick Romeo, David Callin, Fanni Sütő, K.M. Ross, A.B. Cooper, Andrew Blair, Marija Smits, Louis Cennamo, and Gareth Writer-Davies.

Goldilocks by Carole Bromley

16 Wednesday Dec 2015

Posted by three drops from a cauldron in poetry

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Tags

Carole Bromley, children's poetry, fairytales, poem, poetry

Goldilocks

I’d listened at the door; they were always there,
the daddy with the voice and the enormous chair,
the mummy with the pinny, stirring the vat;
banging his spoon, their spoilt wee brat.

The chance came soon; they were humouring
the kid, swinging him hand to hand,
There there, baby bear let’s leave our bowls,
walk in the forest till the porridge cools.

All the more for me; I walked in from the yard
climbed onto daddy’s chair – far too hard.
You know the score - hard, soft, right
hot, cold, fine; big, small, mine.

Point was I had the whole place to myself,
put telly on, took a bath, rearranged a shelf.
Then it was Who’s been sitting in our chairs,
helping themselves? Beds are for bears

and this one’s bust. Yeah, yeah, fair cop.
But they chased after me and didn’t stop
till jumping out the window was the only way;
and there’s me thinking they’d ask me to stay.

But I’ll be back, you mark my words;
bears living in houses! It’s just absurd;
bears eating porridge, bears wearing frocks -
next time they’re out I’m changing the locks.


(‘Goldilocks’ was shortlisted for the Manchester Writing for Children Award 2014 and published in the anthology Let in the Stars.)


Carole Bromley is a teacher from York. She has two pamphlets and a collection from Smith/Doorstop and a second book, The Stonegate Devil, was published in October 2015. Carole is the stanza rep for York, blogs at www.yorkmix.com and from October 2015 has been running poetry surgeries in York for the Poetry Society. Website www.carolebromleypoetry.co.uk

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