From Ancient Oak

This storm,

Waves, the rage of gods,
washed my crew
into the briny depths.

Poor ol’ Joe,
my faithful mate,
cracked his head
on the port railing,
as he met his fate.

I watched him slip
into Davey’s arms,
as his lifeless gaze
rose to meet mine.

This, my tenth command.

This, the tenth ship lost.

A thousand men dead, an obol each,
for Charon to carry ‘cross.

But, I, eternal sailor,
would never meet this fate,
because, I, unfailing,
love the Lady of the Waves.

Ancient, she was, cut
from an elder-oak.
My maidenhead love,
would rise and would float
when the tenth ship
sank deep into the foam.

You’ll find us both,
arm-in-arm, cheek-to-oak,
drifting high, floating on
the merciless sea,
my maiden’s home.

Cursed, she be,
but I’ll love her,
and I’ll love
whatever evil thing
lives in her
oaken bones.

©️ Obol, 2019.

The mythology of this poem intrigues me. Was the maidenhead cut from a dryad’s oak? Does that wood then become cursed? I adore allusions to the old world and its mysteries.

14 thoughts on “From Ancient Oak

      1. Haha! Yes, I get pretty freaked out being over open water too (plus I get major motion sickness so that doesn’t help). But I love the ocean too much to not try to capture its power and seductiveness with pen and ink.

      2. Indeed. I think I’ll stick to beaches IRL. Now that I think of it, something bad happens in all my aquatic writing… hmm.

      3. There’s a reason for that. Right??!

        Talk about bad, your poem reminded me of my Daemona story. I’m not trying to promote it, just that it made me think of it.

  1. Okay, I’ve got something. Send me an email so I have your contact info. Hopefully this comment won’t go to spam….
    akfishtattoos at gmail

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