Thursday 7 February 2013


Out here there is no cosy bed,
Spiky heather only. It is cold, damp,
And the air penetrating. Darkness plays tricks
On consciousness, conjuring black beast-like shapes
Closing in from another realm - the only company
Tonight, besides my own wild heartbeat.
Oh how I miss your warm embrace.
These rustling twigs of hawthorn, wind-thrashed,
Carry echoes of tender words, lost forever
In time's endless spiral.
Yet ego keeps replaying them still
Through yesterday's poignant vision,
Now out of reach and barren as these hills.

Aware of a million spiders crawling
Through undergrowth surrounding me
On all sides. An arachnid army
Of nightmarish terror, circling it's hapless prey.
No. Please stop. Think of something else. Think nothing at all...
Dozing now. Slipping out of time present, beyond
This bitter howling wind. Dry in heavy rain.
A candle burns where we lay.
Our lover's tiff never happened here
In dreamworld, and I never cried
Nor stormed out in blazing temper
Onto the bleak vastness of Bodmin Moor.
Instead, we loved and loved, and are loving still.


  1. Is this Bodmin in Cornwall? If so, I've been there and your description is quite apposite. Especially the "An arachnid army/Of nightmarish terror, circling it's hapless prey." It's a very vivid poem. Many thanks.

    Greetings from London.

    1. Many thanks Cuban. I really appreciate that.
      Yes, it is Bodmin in Cornwall.
      What really scared me was suddenly thinking about how many spiders were lurking in the undergrowth!!
      They are my greatest phobia.

      Greetings from a sunny, but freezing Hampshire!

  2. Wow you have an amazing way of writing as always Ygraine. SO vivid and evocative.

    1. Thank you Keith, so much.
      Your comments are so encouraging :)

  3. Oh superb Ygraine. I love the delightful thread of romance that you have expertly woven into it. Brilliantly written :)

  4. Yet another piece for me to learn from. Your writing always leads me to fascinating subject matter and you so skillfully bring me in. Today I have drowned in Dozmary Pool. :)

    1. I feel so honoured!
      Thank you so very much Gnome.
      I visited Dozmary Pool not long ago. It was the worst possible day - torrential rain and blowing a gale. But these conditions only added to the mysterious aura of this lonely spot...where legend has it that Sir Percival threw Excalibur into the water, where it was caught by The Lady of the Lake.

      Hopefully, she will revive you, Gnome!!!

  5. This is as fine a piece of writing as I have sen lately. I am bowled over by it.
    My grandson tried for the Marines a few years back. Bodmin Moor proved a challenge too far for him -- he was probably too young and not quite ready. They endure snow storms and ice storms and had to wade through streams and then dump their clothes on the floor and put the same ones on again next morning.
    Soon after that he pulled out, intending to go back in a year or two, but then he met a girl... and that's another story.

    Not much to do with your wonderful poem, I know, but thought it might shine another sidelight on the place.

    1. Oh I so, so appreciate that, Dave! Thanks a million!

      I can fully understand why your grandson pulled out (apart from meeting his new girlfriend!). The Moor can be a harsh and unfriendly place. I once went for a stroll on a beautiful sunny day. Then suddenly the mist descended. In a matter of minutes, I'd lost my bearings and ended up going around and around in circles...and as for the cold, well, it was indescribable.
      I still adore the area though. It would take much more than physical hardship to keep me away! :)

  6. Hi Ygraine, how are things in your neck of the woods ? I must acknowledge that you have really honed in on your skills of creative expression through poetry over the last couple of years since I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance. The simplicity of your expression belies the majesty of your intent. When I read your poetry it is like going home to a timeless, endless windswept sanctuary where I can reflect on the duplicitous nature of reality. I love to luxuriate in the atmosphere of your landscapes. Your poetry offers release from the mundane and conjures a whole new world of possibilities. Thanks for awakening in me the spirit of creativity. Even though I have never been to that part of the world your poetry rekindles a dormant need to ignite the passions of yesteryear. I haven't been spending too much time in the cyberworld of blogging but i can tell you i love to stop by your place and experience a new, fresh approach to thematic concerns affecting us all. Keep on keeping on Ygraine. It seems your poetry is a testament to the process of refinement and betterment over time ......

    1. Thank you from the heart, William. I truly mean that.
      Your words mean so much to me, and they give me such encouragement to keep writing.

      Sometimes, when I am really struggling emotionally and am in the grip of the dreaded writer's block, the temptation to give up is so strong.
      But then, paradoxically, it is through writing that I come out the other side, especially when others can understand and appreciate what I have written.
      A lot of it is personal and from the Soul: some fictional. But it is all therapeutic.
      Above all though, it is you who share my experiences who make it all worthwhile. So I'll say thank you again.
      Thank you so much:)

  7. Hi again,
    Yes, I can completely go along with that. I explored it a few times in my youth, cycling and walking. It has a magic all its own. (Which, I might say, you caught beautifully in your poem.

    1. Hi again Dave,
      It is indeed a magical place, isn't it! I can never visit Cornwall without feeling drawn to the moor and Dozmary Pool.
      Can't wait for summer!
      Many thanks, Dave :)


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