July 28, 2013 at 10:10 pm (history, literature, philosophy, Shropshire, sociology, Stories) (, , , , , , )

In this hall we stand and then the castle is ours,
with its cruck roof a fine shelter in this time;
hear merriment; see us feast well; and smell the
smoke and meat and sweat

from our revelries. Friends join us in song and dance,
faces lit by lamps and burnt orange leaping flames
which wrap around them. Sir Knight, fill my goblet
with goodly red wine,

pull your bench to mine to whisper our intent.
We’ll not leave this place till night, drunk and confused,
breaks the great door, spilling its heady reason –
We’ll not surrender yet!



  1. circusinpurgatory said,

    Sounds like a scene from Game of Thrones; nice.

  2. nobodysreadingme said,

    The main room at Talliston is based on a Welsh fort. It’s a great place for inspiration.

    • Julia Dean-Richards said,

      Talliston house? Just looked it up – looks interesting indeed.

      • nobodysreadingme said,

        That’s the place. i was there yesterday as it happens, and it’s where the Writers’ Circle meets every month.

please feel free to comment on these poems - all feedback appreciated. :)

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