Here Be Dragons, a poem by Helen Sadler at Spillwords.com

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Here Be Dragons

Helen Sadler·November 27, 2024

Poetry English

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Here Be Dragons

written by: Helen Sadler

@helensadler8

The ground grinds and grumbles under Castle Hill,
settles and snorts where the dragon sleeps.
Red eyed horse screamed, kicked: dragon’s
shattered teeth spat out over rough and yellowing tussocks.

Pick axe and chisel, hammer and wedge
left on the ledge by a quarryman.

Grasses grow long on Castle Hill: around rocks,
scrubby trees. Destrier stamped and screamed,
eager for trumpet’s blare. Granite outcrop, castle’s
sole survivor, trembles at quarry’s daily blast.

Pick axe and chisel, hammer and wedge
left on the ledge by a quarryman.

Rider alone, black horse descending, snorts,
picks a way round tooth and tree. Braced
against gravity’s pull, the steep incline
to the unyielding metalled road, the traffic’s roar.

Pick axe and chisel, hammer and wedge
left by the gates to the quarry.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

In medieval times Castle Hill, Mountsorrel was on land owned by a family who’s crest included a dragon, hence the dragon reference. A dragon is still to be found on an old village well. Today the land is chiefly used for quarrying.

About
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Helen Sadler

Helen Sadler has recently retired and is relishing spending more time with her writing and with amateur dramatics. She lives in the UK East Midlands, misses the sea but loves the changing land use of the area.

Lou Storey

A textbook example of nominative determinism, Lou Storey has always been a storyteller, a fact well illustrated in his art and in his writing. His careers have reflected that as well, first as a creator of idea-based exhibitions for museums, and later as a psychotherapist employing narrative therapies. His art and his writing share qualities of rich texture and detail, examining our capacity to be absurd while allowing a measure of forgiveness for our foibles. Storey and his husband Steve retired in 2021 and moved from New Jersey to Savannah Georgia. “We love everything about Savannah, it is like a city that looks like a park and thinks it’s a small town. Best of all, we can grow bananas in the backyard!”

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Undeniably sensing they’re not alone,
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