Jackdaw

Jackdaw

A Poem by David Lewis Paget

The bones of a Barquentine still lie

On the reef at Shipwreck Cove,

You can see the spars at the lowest tide

Where it sank with its treasure trove,

The gale that brought it ashore comes once

In a hundred years, they say,

It dragged the anchors and shredded the sails

And the crew all died that day.

 

But not before the terrible sea

Had ripped each man apart,

Some lost their heads, their arms and legs

And it tore out one man’s heart,

The waves had battered them over the reef

And onto the rock strewn shore,

But in the whirl was a slip of a girl

By the name of Eleanor Daw.

 

Her hair was matted, her skin was torn

There was one deep gash on her head,

They couldn’t believe that she’d survived

With the torrents of blood she’d bled,

Her pulse was faint but her heart still beat

And she roused as they carried her back,

She cried but a single name that day,

The name of her husband, Jack.

 

But Jack had gone where the lost will go

Was swept to eternal rest,

Down with the sea anemone

The flesh peeled off from his breast,

His hand torn off with his wedding ring

Was swept along with the tide,

A glint of a tiny, shining thing

With no thought of his former bride.

 

But Eleanor Daw had walked the shore

For a year, long after he died,

His body was never recovered so she

Still kept him alive, inside,

She wore the black of a mourning gown

And a veil that covered her face,

Whenever the winter storms blew in

She’d look for the merest trace.

 

The hand that carried the wedding ring

Had gradually come apart,

The fingers went on their different ways

But one stayed close to her heart,

A storm had cast it up on the beach

Where it glinted there in the sun,

And a bird swooped down on the shiny thing

Took the ring and the bones as one.

 

It had lined its nest with wayward coins

That lay half hidden in sand,

Now took the ring and the finger too

To join its contraband,

But the finger wouldn’t give up the ring

And the nest was almost complete,

So it flew again where the widow went

And it dropped the ring at her feet.

 

Eleanor stooped to pick it up

And the bird hopped onto her arm,

They walked together along the beach

As she held the ring in her palm,

Now every day you will see them walk

The bird, and Eleanor Daw,

And if you stop her, she’ll meet and greet:

‘My husband and I, Jack Daw!’

 

David Lewis Paget

© 2013 David Lewis Paget


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Featured Review

Excellent !!!Don't know how you write such lengthy pieces so perfectly .Great work - you are such a good story weaver.

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

You have a way of making the imagination see a beautiful picture, so discriptive and bittersweet, This is one of my favorites :)

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Another flawless rhyme.. and enjoyable read David. Thank you.
xo Rose

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

You write with such ease David

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Another brilliant write, David. Your words always inspire me and your passion in this piece is endearing. Each time I think this is your best yet and you just keep creating even better ones. Wonderful job dear!

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Oh man Dave i read your stuff and every time I think to myself this is a masterpiece. And so they are.

Posted 11 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

~claps hands!~ Excellent, David! I could see Eleanor and her 'Jack' strolling along. Another wonderful tale! Angi~

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This poem reminds me so much of "The Wreck of the Hesperus" it has that wonderful story telling to it but with your own clever twist the jackdaw. Who'd have known?
Such a pleasure to read this.

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

"The bones of a Barquentine still lie
On the reef at Shipwreck Cove,
You can see the spars at the lowest tide
Where it sank with its treasure trove,"

Those opening lines are poetry perfection. That is a bloody clever write, one of my favourites!

Thank you again Mr. Paget, indeed you are the master.

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

You have amazed me once again. I think I love your mind!

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I like it my favorite so far

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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19 Reviews
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Added on June 1, 2013
Last Updated on June 1, 2013
Tags: barquentine, reef.rocks, blood

Author

David Lewis Paget
David Lewis Paget

Moonta, South Australia, Australia



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