Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011


by john berry

It's early, and the cold wind blows, the valiant moonbeams sigh.
Betwixt the trees beneath the trees; on the gurgling waters lie.
When all the air goes quiet... all the air goes still.
As the light in the mist of a will-o'-the-wisp... of a sweet or bitter pill.
Glides slowly to the waters edge; a bad remembrance there.
And the bluebells sensing nymphish hands. Arise... a temptress near.
A child of woe who long ago was lost on this terrain.
She now resides, her glistening eyes inflicting much the same.
On the weary traveller late at night; sweet voices in his head.
An ancient mist, a will-o'-the-wisp... a slender wispy thread.
If the darkness e'er befalls you... and you're lost upon this ground.
If a smiling sprite with a shining light e'er beckons: Lost or found?

Then a will-o'-the-wisp has crossed your path. Be careful now. Refrain.
Someone errant this way went... and has just went by again.

Added: 25.03.2011

Judges' comments on this poem


"has GONE by again" would be better grammatically. That aside, I love this poem. Echoes of Yeats.