The Bride of the Wind and Rain

There was morning dew, and the sky was blue

When the stranger came to town,

Riding a painted wagon, pulled

By horses, black and brown,

He carried a wand of hickory,

Was clad in a purple cloak,

'The Master of Elementals'

Said the sign - 'of the Gypsy Folk.'

 

The people gathered to hear him speak

When he stopped in the village square,

'I hold the secrets of wind and rain,

Of summer clouds up there.

The gentle rain for your barley crop,

The breeze that flutters the leaves,

Or the menace of darkening thunderheads

As the lightning strikes at your eaves.'

 

The people laughed: 'He's a crazy loon,'

They said: 'We think you're a clown!'

They rocked his wagon and jeered at him

But the stranger stood his ground.

'You jeer at eternal mysteries,

And you fail to understand,

But I have the power to raze your crops

With a twitch of my willow wand.'

 

They turned his wagon upside-down

And laughed, and danced and sang,

'There's not been much to cheer us here

Since we ducked old Widow Strang.

Her spells could never save her

And your wand can do its worst,

So show us your 'Elementals'...'

Then he said - 'Your town is cursed!'

 

He raised the willow wand on high

And muttered seven words

That didn't make much sense to them,

(In a tongue they'd never heard).

The rain fell out of a cloudless sky

Like a fine and gentle mist,

A gentle, soaking, water spray,

Then he said - 'Shall I persist?'

 

There'd been a drought, the people laughed,

And danced about in glee,

'We need the rain, you're a sad buffoon

With your vain idolatry.

So do your worst with your willow wand

Our crops will prosper now...'

'Your crops will nourish the barren ground,'

He said, 'I'll show you how!'

 

A wind arose in the barley fields,

The rain came pouring down,

The corn, it swayed in the gusts, the trees

Were bent toward the ground,

The sky was blackened with thunderheads,

The rain, it turned to hail,

The crowd began to scatter, and fled

As the women began to wail.

 

The thunderheads were dark and dense,

They turned the light to gloom,

The hailstones rattled on every roof

In the dark of the afternoon,

Then lightning flashed, lit up the sky

As the stranger paced the town,

His scowl so unforgiving and grim as

The lightning struck the ground.

 

A wedding party had sheltered in

The chancel of the church,

They dared not hold the service since

The thunder cloud had burst.

The noise drowned out the vicar's voice,

The organ pipes had wailed,

Playing the devil's music to

The rattling of the hail.

 

The stranger strode on up the aisle,

The people stared him down,

He waved his wand, the floor had split

As an earthquake shook the ground,

'How much to stop this craziness?'

A man stood up and said,

'You've made your point, take what you want!'

The stranger shook his head.

 

'Not all of your gold will buy me off,

You jeered and laughed at me,

Your town will sink in the primal mud

And be lost in antiquity,

But there is one thing I'd take right now

To save my wounded pride,

I would take just one of your number here...'

Then he pointed to the bride.

 

The bride had cowered behind the groom

As lightning hit the spire,

The roofing lead came crashing down

On the altar, and the choir,

A floodtide surged in the open door

And the wedding party cried:

'For God's sake, give him the woman then,

Give him the blushing bride!'

 

The groom was pushed aside and held,

The bride passed hand to hand,

'It's better we let you take her

If it will save our troubled land!'

'I'll only be taking her maidenhead,

Then you can have her back,

And live with the scorn and shame of her

Dishonoured, like you, in fact!'

 

He took the bride through the chancel door

And they disappeared in the rain,

Somebody said they heard her scream

And the bridegroom reeled in pain,

He swore revenge on the lot of them,

Ran cursing out of the church,

To look for his bride, defiled, he said,

He began his demented search.

 

There was morning dew, and the sky was blue

When she marched back into town,

Her dress was ragged and torn by then,

Blood-stained, and she wore a frown.

She carried a long white willow wand

As she marched to the village square,

And screamed; 'You'd better come out and pray!'

There was no forgiveness there!

 

The townsfolk hid in their flooded homes

As she wandered every lane,

There was never a sight of the stranger there

In the torrents of hail and rain,

She waved for the thunderheads to come

And she brought the lightning down,

But the groom was locked in a crazy room

In a distant part of town.

 

Now the ruined bride still walks the streets

In a torn and faded dress,

More like the rags of the hand-me-downs

Than a hint of future bliss,

The crops have drowned in the sodden fields

And the houses filled with mud,

As she screams like an elemental witch

For the loss of her virgin blood.

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Barbz]

You're brilliant....you're freaking brilliant. I read it four times....not because I was trying to absorb the content.....Because I lived it.....You have the uncanny ability to make your reader a member of the cast!! You are a Poet slash writer slash novelist slash Playwright slash Dramatist.......Barbara....( forgive my grammar, punctuation etc......It's the wind and rain!)

[Renée]

Wow ! Fantastic writing !

[icaros13]

An epic tale that is beautifully written. I find it difficult to write a review with the story still swirling around in my head. I might as well just add all of your works to my library...

[Chad Wesley Allbrett]

I like how everybody in the town takes magic for granted, as though it was an everyday item. This reminds me of a lot of old time ballads.

[Siddartha Beth Pierce]

Wowee - this rocks! I love the imagery, the rhythm - the cadence and story are truly amazing! This should be published immediately. Superb write! Going into my favorites!
Light,
Siddartha

[Mark]

A haunting tale, as ever, David. Your poems never fail to make a moral point, and despite their length, once one gets beyond the first stanza, there is no turning back; they are positively magnetic. One day, when I see your collected works, I will be able to see the nuances in several poems that deal with the shallowness and selfishness of a forlorn little town, in their dealing with a stranger--it seems rather a recurring theme, and, may you forgive me, I cannot help but wonder what little town abused your kind offers, once upon a time. Ever the shrinker, I'm afraid!

[Lena M. P.]

Two demons made by the hands of men. Irony at its finest. Destruction to the greed of man. Well penned David!

[Deanarrlack]

Enjoyed this, sort of reminded me of several songs by Buffy Sainte Marie

[Another Relic]

An excellent tale David. I liked the way you told it as a story without trying to keep it short. Each stanza flowed evenly to me and you kept it interesting throughout. You've inspired me to repost a poem I have called "An Old West Tale"

Some people won't read the extra long poems because they think it will take too long I guess, but to me this one was worth it. Well done.

[Tomás Ó C..]

A rip roaring tale once again!!! And rhymes so well!