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Court Green

Charlotte Puddifoot Avatar Charlotte Puddifoot - Premium MemberPremium Member Send Soup Mail Go to Poets Blog Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled Court Green which was written by poet Charlotte Puddifoot. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Court Green

Her shadowy cloud-cloaked figures are reaching,
clustering at the creaking bridge end,
waiting for me, beckoning silently,
fitting their footsteps to mine.
Russet rust dots the ground like blood spots -

maroon flakes flecking the quiet earth.
The gaping church mouth
has swallowed too many blood-soaked sunsets,
girning and regurgitating the red.
The Gothic spire of the yew keeps its churchyard vigil,

overshadowing the elm's distress -
troubled trees that bleed through the sigils of her desk.
Each ancient taproot sprawls to the grinning maw
of a corpse, kissing this quiet necropolis.
It is too still, too silent,

not a breath, a whisper, or a flicker.
On a green hill faraway narcissi raise white faces;
they nod and bob above an echo chamber of old cogs,
ancient wires snaking from walls,
ivy ropes strangling worn wooden doors,

softly rotting boards, shifting floors.
Slow sun on moss-smothered walls,
turning and churning amber and gold.
Her history haunts here, hanging like a pall.
Old memories snag between slats of sunlight;

vaporous spirits stirring, rising before me
like a heat haze in the sweltering, melting air.
Cubed cottages line the lane in spun sugar pastels.
What is that sickly odour throat-choking me
in the sultry air? Is it only the saccharine stench

of the lace-capped cow parsley? Cautiously I place each foot
amongst sodden sod clods dark as blood clots
and a snare of plant roots, the throttle-web nets
of Queen Anne's lace. Wending a winding pathway
through weed-choked abandoned allotments

shimmering green as the sea; the sun funnelling
its suffocating heat to me, the sick hawthorns
sweating a feverish odour of malady.
Bean flowers peer meanly from their cages of canes -
little hostile black eyes following me.

A murder of crows converges, blackening the hot blue -
bits of scorched paper soaring near the sun's searing inferno -
squawking souls immolating; a panicked flutter of sky cries.
And at the end of it all, this sinking into sunken soil
as the cloud-cloaked shadows lengthen to swallow me whole.





*Court Green is the name of the house where poets Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes lived in the village of North Tawton, Devon. The 'abandoned allotments' in North Tawton were the setting for Plath's poem 'The Bee Meeting'.

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  1. Date: 5/30/2013 9:48:00 PM
    Charlotte, Congratulations with your awesome winning free verse poem... xox~ LINDA

  1. Date: 5/29/2013 6:49:00 PM
    Oh, WOW. The imagery in this poem is stunning! You have such a unique and inspiring talent. This poem is so true to the strange (and sometimes disturbing) qualities of Plath's work. I can't tell you enough how much I love this. Fave!

  1. Date: 5/28/2013 6:52:00 PM
    congrats on your win in the contest. take care cory

  1. Date: 5/28/2013 6:36:00 PM
    absolutely stunning work here! Congrats and thanks for submitting to my contest. Kim

  1. Date: 5/28/2013 6:31:00 PM
    Now this is free verse, a fav & 7 Congrad's on your win! Light & Love

  1. Date: 5/26/2013 9:40:00 PM
    Good poem C P, Have yourself a beautiful Memorial Day, this Monday. God bless * Always~ LINDA

  1. Date: 5/24/2013 1:30:00 PM
    wow, it's such a blast i am left speachless . A creation that emerges in a rare moment of inspiration, great work, my dear friend:) Jag

  1. Date: 5/23/2013 7:41:00 PM
    Oh wow.......the descriptions are a dream.......what a beautiful, enchanting collection of pictures you have painted in my mind's eye!

  1. Date: 5/22/2013 5:01:00 PM
    Interesting work..I have read some of Sylvia Plath's work..Thanks for stopping by..Your presence at my is uplifting..Sara

  1. Date: 5/21/2013 10:57:00 PM
    wow, it is very creepy at the end!!! But I love the atmosphere that you create , it's beautiful while also being foreboding. Love the phrase "Murder of crows" which fits so well in here too. You are so great at free verse!!

  1. Date: 5/21/2013 10:55:00 PM
    Charlotte, I would never use a dictionary at a place like this that can't even give proper syllable count with their syllable counter. Just the other day I saw a poet critiquing another based on faulty syllable info. How can someone not figure it out for themselves?? Ok, enough of my rant. Now i will see this poem

  1. Date: 5/21/2013 6:49:00 PM
    Very finely crafted. It sounds like the ending of a world that was abused. Fantastic visuals . :)