A magical world in a fairy glen

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Along the lane where we children play

Are runnels in and out the hedge

Where hidy holes and secret dens

Are hid in shadows all the day.   

There birds pick crumbs from under foot 

And feast on berries we have shook

To ground amongst our homes away from home.

We’ve  plucked up grass for a comfy floor

Where we can sit and share our store

And stories tell of dragon times 

And knights and gnomes in times of yore. 

But come the night when we are gone

The foxes creep from out their holes 

And scavenge scraps left from our feasts,

Licking up our daytime treats. 

Then the owl hoots loud and silent swoops 

Across the ditch and o’er our stoop

To our hidden, magic, elfin den

That’s deep within the glen. 

They watch enchantments all night long

Join in the dancing  and sing along

And as morning approaches they leave the feast

And the sprites fly off away from the East.

And as we are slumbering in our beds

Great tales are happening in our heads

Of creatures small and ballads sung

Of animals speaking in fairy tongue.

And tomorrow when we visit there

We’ll sense a presence in the air

And we’ll know more than any adult (wo)men

That there’s a magical world in a children’s den.

 

Idea, poem and photo copyright to Englepip©

 

Hamlet recreated

Photo of King John’s Castle Odiham, Hampshire UK, by Englepip©

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For those who are unfamiliar, Hamlet, by Shakespeare, is the tragic tale of a Prince of Denmark who, after seeing his father’s ghost, realises that his father was murdered by his uncle, who has since married his mother. He wrestles with the idea of revenge, with the mortality of man and the idea of killing a monarch, whom the Elizabethans saw as God’s representative on earth. Two of the most famous lines are ‘To be or not to be” and “The rest is silence,” both of which I have incorporated into this poem. It is a harrowing play and the part of Hamlet is extremely tense – a thought to which I have tried to draw attention here.

There is a scene on the ramparts of the castle thus the shot above.

 

The stage is set, the lights are up 

And as you move to centre stage

The world looks upon you.

“To be, or not to be” is no longer 

A question. You are here.

And as you move through the blocks

And  speak out your lines

Contorting your face

In response to the moment

You are for that time

A tragedy recreated,

executing the murders

Experiencing the tortured passions

Of a demented Prince.

And when you lie in the arms of Horatio

A little of you dies with the Prince:

For to recreate the passion,

The betrayal, the enigma, that is Hamlet

Marks you forever….. 

“The rest is silence”.

 

via Daily Prompt: Recreate