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Nine-Pins and Tipple

Four kegs, they’d left on the rye field’s bare crest
gone were the skittles and the balls of wood.
Four kegs empty of magical brew, strewn
upon the hill’s breasts, where gnomes had stood.

They’d left long ago, twenty years today.
Here’d been a mountain, where now a farm stood.
They had left their tipple as each strike thundered
to lambaste lightning from stacked firewood.

On the rye field’s bare crest now shrouded in snow
beneath a Wedgwood sky, stood kegs of wood.
On the rye field’s bare crest each keg turned stone
marking the bones where rebels once stood.

Gone ‘till tonight, the gnomes and jack tars
until the moon’s magic topped the keg’s wood.
Gone till tonight were the hard balls and pegs
this night spirits would dance where we now stood.



Published 2017 by Illumen

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2018

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Date: 9/17/2020 4:53:00 PM

Great poetry!
Date: 9/2/2020 1:15:00 AM

You are a magnificent writer, dear Debbie. This is...a like so many of your poems...A MASTERPIECE. I think of you often and hope all is well with you. Sincerely, Elaine
Date: 4/20/2020 6:19:00 PM

....and this write, such bucolic along with the Lords happy above likewise that of the pneuma who gathered such abundant reap....thus the enhance of poetic challenge.....i'm dizzy with artistic melding...ty debbie !
Date: 4/20/2020 6:09:00 PM

yesss, i stop by when i need the scholarly of yourn pundit self mine astute literary genius. I'm so enmeshed with my personal life dear Debbie; look at her (rhetoricaly) she has no qualms inciting me, this happenz even during times of mandatory physical sustenance(food timez)..anywho, some time years back, you enjoyed a write of mine titled; "Sexy Taste". 8/15/2015.Merely you recognizing that i wrote excited my day...i recall. Anywho, i hope that you recall me. Mine recluse is as you see dear
Date: 3/2/2020 11:05:00 PM

Poetry a cut above, so glad to read a classic such as this, Debbie, i still read your poetry in "The Hurricane" so much to care about in there. Love the Wedgwood sky, makes me think of Mandy Tams, she was a painter there of pottery in the uk, unique she was being the only South Paw painter, and a hard time she had to persuade them, but she persisted, and they never looked back.
Date: 10/12/2019 6:02:00 PM

I get the music, but not quite, and the words, but not all. Here are mysteries I don't want revealed. There's an invitation to stake a claim. I'm in! I know just how to dance to this. What a treasure! Thanks.
Date: 3/14/2019 2:05:00 AM

Enjoyable.
Date: 3/4/2019 9:31:00 AM

Wow! A strong strong story with wonderful imagery. Definitely going into my Fav's. // Barry
Date: 3/3/2019 7:00:00 PM

This is gorgeous Debbie! It is going straight into my Faves. It reminds me of my Jayhawk family. Love, Connie : ) xxoo
Date: 2/9/2019 2:08:00 PM

I just had to "fave"; it's to good.
Date: 1/9/2019 4:12:00 AM

Tars to lubbers, salts to shore ... lovely and enigmatic weave, Debbie, I thoroughly enjoyed this gem of a tale. I envisioned a hob jigging in the moonlight. Blessings and Happy New Year to you and yours!
Date: 1/4/2019 3:13:00 PM

Hello Debbie, I like the tale you told in this poem. Well done. Have a nice day my friend.
Date: 1/1/2019 2:20:00 PM

- Debbie, I wish you and your family a blessed and lovely New Year :) - hugs from Norway :)
Date: 10/25/2018 12:41:00 PM

Love the eerie suspense, Deb! with Jack Tar Sailors roaming the land once ashore, the gnome spirits of nightfall and the sweet lyricism of your talent throughout!

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