I.
An icy North Wind sailing
on green and purple seas
whips and mauls the land.
The frozen peaks
of the Anatolian Mountains
tower in the distance
and the Moor is howling
in the Devil's Sea.
Brave warriors of five and six
shelter in hushed classrooms
until the battered day is done.
When the school bell rings
muddy boots and ties undone
pour silently into lanes and streets.
St Michael with a gleaming sword
stands on the spire of his church so high
his head is resting at the feet of God.
The graveyard with its crumbling steps
and the whispers of the lipless dead
is surely the gate to the World of Nether.
Shades linger in its darkness searching
for a child's body and a demijohn of blood.
I fall into my grandpa's arms, he bolts
the door against the anger of the wind
and banishes the whispers of the skulls.
II. Late at night sitting on his knee by the fireside
I listen to him spin the yarn of the Pirates and the Moor:
Once so long ago
on a darksome night
ships came draped in black
with blacker flags
of bones and skulls.
Blood dripping scimitars
and demons poured
from their bowels of hell
folk locked their doors prayed to the Lord for mercy and prepared to die.
In the storm-tossed night, I hear howls and screams I see shadows fighting on the walls and the room is filled with the pungent smell of burning flesh.
Craving virgin flesh the fearsome Moor has come to rape and pillage.
Men and women lie in pools of blood and girls and boys
are dragged wailing
to open fields and darkened barns.
Brimstone and fire
and avenging angels
pour down from
the burning skies.
In a flash of white fury our Guardian Angel
brings down his scythe onto the Arab's neck and hurls his writhing body far into the Devil's Sea. III.
A pale sun rises in the morning sky. Ploughmen are out in the fields once more and shepherds are climbing up to the hills again. Fishermen sit by the quay chewing tobacco, they smoke roll-ups and tell stories of the ones who drowned and of the perils of the sea.
The voices of the dead are silent. The Anatolian Mountains have melted
in the distance and the Moor whimpers
once again in the Devil's Sea. A few words about the poem…
A Nostalgic poem from the Series Cyprus Poems
"Winter Tales" is a reflective poem from the collection Cyprus Poems that transports readers back to the poet's childhood. It is a poignant recollection of being enthralled by his grandfather's storytelling prowess. Through the simplicity of language, the poem creates a vivid and nostalgic atmosphere, resonating with those who cherish their own childhood memories.
In the poem, wintry landscapes emerge, painted with delicate strokes. The imagery of frozen peaks in the Anatolian Mountains and the haunting howls of the Moor in the Devil's Sea captures the imagination. These vivid descriptions set the stage for the young child's enraptured state as he listens to his grandfather's tales.
There is an underlying tension in the poem—a hint of forbidden allure and the seductive power of the unknown. The graveyard, with its crumbling steps and whispers of the lipless dead, serves as a gateway to the mysterious World of Nether. Shades linger, searching for a child's body and a demijohn of blood. Yet, the grandpa's protective embrace and the act of bolting the door banish the whispers of the skulls, providing a sense of safety amidst the darkness.
As the poem unfolds, it reveals the transformative nature of storytelling. The young child falls into the arms of his grandfather, finding solace and escape from the anger of the wind and the haunting whispers. The tale of pirates and the Moor is spun, filling the room with the pungent smell of burning flesh and the howls of storms. The poetic language evokes the intensity of these moments, allowing the reader to vividly imagine the clashes, the screams, and the avenging angels that pour down from the burning skies.
"Winter Tales" captures the essence of childhood wonder and the powerful bond between generations. The poet's portrayal of these memories elicits a sense of longing and nostalgia. It reminds us of the significant role storytelling plays in shaping our lives, preserving our cultural heritage, and passing down wisdom from one generation to the next.
In its simplicity, "Winter Tales" embraces the universal themes of childhood, family, and the enduring magic of storytelling. It serves as a testament to the lasting impact of those precious moments spent listening to captivating tales, leaving an indelible mark on the poet's psyche, and inspiring a lifelong appreciation for the power of words.
Through its evocative imagery, heartfelt reminiscences, and the enchantment of its storytelling, "Winter Tales" invites readers to journey back to their own cherished memories, rekindling the flames of imagination and reminding us of the transformative power of narrative.
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