mead hall time of year



it’s a mead hall time of year with me
with cravings for smoked shadows
salt crystalled cod and clove mulled wine
crisp partridge and roast deer
the heart strong wild of bear…

for I must taste strong flavors
touch sweat from sharp stone walls
smooth splinters roughed in pine

drip tallow on my palm
watch dust motes drift in shafts of light
hear sighs of sea-born rain
gnaw shreds of happiness
from bones of memory.

Bonnie Marshall

Art by Julian Beever

23 thoughts on “mead hall time of year

  1. Bonnie, this is a beautifully crafted poem and I can almost taste the elements of this “mead hall time of year”. Out of curiosity do you see an image that moves you and then attempt to write the poem or do you write the poem and then pick the image?

      1. it’s the sort of thing Rimbaud called a “débandade de parfums” — a riot of perfumes. excellently done.

  2. Beever’s painting is so interesting, and you have caught the feeling of the barren, gray studio, which would make one want to be in a mead hall. two fine works of art.

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