Grace Williams Poet Limerick

Silver Strands

The heaves and the roars and the sighs
Are less frightening to passer-bys
Than the terrible moans 
Of the hollowed out stones
Which bring forth the dead sailors’ cries.


The sky in the west has gone red,
Dyeing rocks on whom many have bled
Men defended their homes
Legends filled foreign tomes:
Devil’s ile is what far scholars said

Thinking savages roamed ‘round uncouth
They could not have imagined the truth
That a goddess lived there
With star light for her hair
Who gave to all many life times of youth

These people they could not feel fear
For as long as their goddess was near
Despite the fall of leaves
They had endless reprives
A silver strand and at death they could leer

But when one girl fell deeply in love
With one resembling a sweet mourning dove
When she asked for a strand
From her tribe she was banned
Left to die with her husband alone

First of her people to grow wise with age
She tried to make others give up their rage
But with her own son she failed
And to his people he sailed
He hanged the goddess by her hair on her stage

*I know that this is a bit creepy and gross.  I don't know why I wrote it.*

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