We’re delighted to share another poem from our Creative Writing Walks – thank you Christa for sending us this wonderful piece, and to Chrissie for leading the sessions. Two final walks are coming up this month in Ormesby and Skelton, so make sure you sign up!
A Tale of Lost Gold
Passing through the archway of stone
Out of the bustle into the silent zone
Walking where Monks’ feet have trod
Paying homage to their holy God
Tree branches now marked by wrinkles
Supported limbs hiding the aged crinkles
A carpet of mossy stones in vibrant greens
Tranquil, but alas, it is not all as it seems!
Underneath, lurking way below the ground
Lies something dark and frankly, profound
The folk tale repeated for what it is worth
Tells of a secret tunnel beneath the Priory earth
Hiding a huge chest holding a hoard of gold
Guarded by a Black Raven if one should be that bold
A humble cobbler, Crispin Tocketts by name
Was up for the challenge and perhaps a little fame
He felt he could not possibly fail
If he marked the route with a woollen trail
“What? Defeated by a black Raven? No way!”
Onlookers who saw him off heard him say
With his cobbled boots and determination to match
The black raven, in his head, was ready for the catch!
Through twists and turns bending below height
Until at last he spotted the chest in dim candlelight
Crispin was ecstatic and already counting the cash
Didn’t he just know he, a cobbler, would find the stash?
But, alas, the black Raven was having none of it
And appeared when Crispin tried to prise open the lid
Furiously beating its wings, Crispin saw at a glance
The Raven turning into the Devil himself, no chance!
His candle dropped down in the haste to escape
Burning the woollen trail set down of late
He ran blind and franticly retraced his steps
Alighting from the tunnel in a heck of a mess
Crispin the cobbler related scary tales full of fear
To all in the town who would lend him an ear
The tale lives on but no-one has since ventured below
To claim the treasure, but maybe, if you are in the know….
P.S. Above the ground, see that cowslip (or is it a primrose?)
Has the gold transformed into yellow flowers? One can suppose….