Folk Lore

P1150986 (3)
Folk Lore

To see the rabbits skittering through indigo leaves
Avoiding Black Shuck  and the tall man in the graveyard
Who was too long for his coffin, clearing the grave of brambles
Once a year in the country way, rooks in their bedraggled nests
Could be food any moment to Grandma all blind now
Knitting stretch bags by feel, turning over in her featherbed
Sticking jellies on her head, Miss Independence she called me
Once a week her family played some game with counters
On the shiny table; there was Uncle and his sister

Who buried the Christmas puddings and never found them that year
And Gertie who was fun but had dementia…

Daisy was the name of their employer at the big hall
So Ma called the baby by her name, not realising it was truly Marguerite
When they went away on holiday, Uncle wore her dresses
A fine sight and actually he never married…

When they died the scathing relatives ripped through the house
The burned a carpet, later knowing it was Aubusson
Gnashing their teeth at the valuer from Sotheby’s
Who scolded them for losing antiques gone up in acrid particles

I got a fox fur with real  glass eyes
I wondered if the rest of it was in a pie.


Veronica Aldous 2016  Poem and Art All Rights Reserved


About Veronica Aldous

Writer and artist, Veronica is a lecturer is Fine Art and Creative Writing. Her first book of poems, 'Moon Cinema' is now available on Now there is also 'Mortal' her second book.
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One Response to Folk Lore

  1. Bart Wolffe says:

    Delightful absurdities – indeed, there’s none so queer as folk! 🙂


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