In the first part of the ballad by Alfred Noyes, The Highwayman is a fellow who rides on horseback, holding up travelers at gunpoint to rob them. Along the way, he stops by an inn to see his sweetheart, Bess. She shows her love for him while meeting at the window, braiding a red ribbon through her hair in the shape of a love knot.
The poem continues in captivating twists and turns but sadly does not lead to a happily-ever-after for Bess and the Highwayman.
Try It: Love Knot Poetry
Consider the braid Bess created and its symbolic gesture. If you were to make your own love knot, what would it look like? What colors weave through the twists and loops? Is it deliciously tangled and a little mussed up, or is it an artful form of long threads spun and intertwined? Who is the love in your knot?
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Featured Poem
Thanks to everyone who participated in last week’s poetry prompt. Here is a poem we enjoyed from Prasanta:
Horizon: Drawing Lines
If you draw a line there
And I draw a line here
What do we draw beneath and above ourselves
Are we walking toward the same inimitable sunset
If you put a tree there, and I put a tree here
Can we rest under the same shade
We see one other, walking in parallel
Is the chasm between us too wide
For our hands to reach
If I draw a line here, and you draw a line there,
We still breathe the same air—
I wonder, can we meet on the road, somewhere.
Photo by Peter Pham. Creative Commons via Flickr.
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How to Write a Poem uses images like the buzz, the switch, the wave—from the Billy Collins poem “Introduction to Poetry”—to guide writers into new ways of writing poems. Excellent teaching tool. Anthology and prompts included.
“How to Write a Poem is a classroom must-have.”
—Callie Feyen, English Teacher, Maryland
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Donna Falcone says
Prasanta, this poem of yours… it’s really beautiful and asks such compelling questions. Thank you so much for sharing it, and I’m so glad to see it featured!
Prasanta says
Thank you for featuring my poem, and thank you, Donna. 🙂
Monica Sharman says
Custom-Stitched Afghan
After the starting chain,
row after row of double-crochets.
And if a black hair strand
strayed as she worked,
caught in the hook,
worked through a slip stitch,
into the blanketing wool,
she didn’t pull it out.
Donna Falcone says
This makes me think of warm and wonderful gifts – I never stopped to wonder if there was DNA evidence woven into the knots…. I love the thought that a part of the creator goes with the gift.
Heather Eure says
Oh Monica. I love the sweet image. How very dear.
Rick Maxson says
Grandpa’s Second Wife
― for Helen
The fine tapestry
falling from your knees,
the story of your quiet life,
in the rhythmic clicking
of the circling hooks,
the soft crackling
of your voice,
like fish roe frying,
a church fan folded
prudently on the table
by your chair,
a plaque of weather gauges
and the clock
moving slowly on the wall,
as the palm-pressed prayers
living in your freckled hands,
moved into these knots, these threads
Heather Eure says
My goodness, Rick. Your poem takes me back to my great-grandmother’s house. She liked her fried fish roe with scrambled eggs for breakfast.
Rick Maxson says
Mmmmm, yes. That’s a good breakfast, maybe with a small helping of hashbrowns.
Prasanta says
Scarlet Thread
A scarlet thread
Burns long, thin
Intersecting Sunday
And the corner
Of my heart–
Hungry for red.
I know the thread,
The very one
It pulls me to your neck
Unfolds like silk.
I pull string taut
Tie knot
So needle won’t slip
Yet seam rips
Knot unties
A few crimson threads
Fall to the floor
Taste the hunger
Of belonging—
Scarlet wounds aren’t
Sealed with simply a stitch
If the button didn’t fall
Slip out of the pocket
Set lost on a Sunday–
I’d still be searching
Can I say what is mine
And what is yours
Can you tell me where
The scarlet thread ends
Hunger for crimson
To hug your skin
Feel the warmth of red
A coat of crimson
Covers me
I taste the scarlet thread
***
This is a “found poem” and was inspired by a poem called “Coated” , written by L.L. Barkat, which I read a few years in Every Day Poems. Words used from that poem are: hungry, red, scarlet, coat, Sunday, needle, button, thread, silk, and neck.
Prasanta says
Oops, I see a typo. The 3rd line in the 5th stanza should say “Get lost” instead of “Set lost”. That probably will make more sense now. Ha.
L.L. Barkat says
Fun. 🙂 I actually only recognized lines from “Petit a Petit…”. (Though I think it’s worded “what is yours/and what is mine” in that one.)
Now I must go back and find “Coated,” which I don’t even remember having written! 🙂
Prasanta says
Not sure if this link works, but the poem is here: http://us2.forward-to-friend.com/forward/preview?u=9e5e4dd4731a9649c1dd1cf58&id=fcbdb709b5
Katie says
Really enjoyed your poem, Prasanta; especially:
“Taste the hunger
of belonging -“
Prasanta says
Thank you so much, Katie!
L.L. Barkat says
Ah! Thank you 🙂
I think my favorite part of your poem is:
“If the button didn’t fall
Slip out of the pocket
Get lost on a Sunday–
I’d still be searching”
Isabelle G. Schlegel says
One poem for me: As If
She smiles sickly sweet,
Holds my hand and brushes my cheek-
As if none of it made a difference.
As if my stomach didn’t drop
Every time she looked at me
With that mellowed hippie-eyed stare.
As if her soft and gentle words
Floating in the air
Mingling with her smell of
Lavender and vintage clothing shops,
And old wood
And her-
Her soothing touch,
Uneven stumbling fingers alighting my skin-
As if I didn’t just shiver,
When she wrapped her arms around me.
Or when she turned her back
When we slept in the same bed.
As if I didn’t love her more than as a friend.
How is that possible?
Even when our bodies collide
And our chests press together,
She keeps our hearts
At an arm’s length away,
As if I could never be the one
To hold her that way.
And one poem for my beloved characters: Lavender Kisses
Maybe it was the way
The Lunar Cheshire Moon exploited
Her milky white features,
And reflected from Blue Glacier Eyes
Staring evenly back
-inviting-
A breathless snowstorm.
Icy hands clasp his,
Hard surfaces root them
While they are suspended in the
Very darkness that drove them.
Warmth cascades on to bare
Wet skin,
Eager lips dressed in tasteful
Red Bordeaux Wine,
Tangling limbs exposing willfully-
Passionately, under
Silver Diamond Stars,
Rosy cheeks illuminated gently and
Rosebud tongues colliding
His hands touching
Pulling
Writhing
As he wrote on every inch of her
With hungry desire.
She opens herself
A midnight snowdrop in bloom,
Drawing his thoughts with
Her lavender kisses
And lustful wishes
That carry them softly
Into fading fire-orange dawn.
It sets their bodies to flame,
And with their first-morning
Gazes, combust.
Leslie Moseley says
Lavendar does excite the senses. Your characters I’m certain are blushing. Nicely knotted for valentine’s day.
Love the words and colours you use to emphasize. I think Lunar Cheshire Moon is my favorite.
But then I do play in Moon dust.
Cheers
Leslie – aka Moondustwriter
Leslie Moseley says
Good to see lovingly pieced patchwork of fine verse here.
Glad to see TSP is still around and thanks for the welcome.
This one I just penned as a tribute to a sweet little guy who I am sure holds the door of heaven open and greets everyone with the most beautiful smile.
A KELLY SMILE
I saw your smile yesterday
broad was your Kelly smile
reminded me of memories
long as a Gulu mile
small fingers intertwined in mine
dark ash upon your cheek
fought fire with the older kids
bravest boy I’d ever meet
I saw your smile yesterday
broad was your Kelly smile
reminded of your memories
long as a Gulu mile
bands all sizes on the floor
we’d make them for our wrists
love you knotted one for me
in colorful sweeps and twists
I saw your smile yesterday
broad was your Kelly smile
three short years of memories
but long as a Gulu mile
in such a little caravan
your body we conveyed
grandmother held you in her arms
wept o’er her precious babe
I saw your smile yesterday
broad was your Kelly smile
reminded of our memories
long as a Gulu mile
as your teacher I then shared
the knot now in my heart
a tightly woven little place
it never will depart
I saw your smile yesterday
broad is your Kelly smile
colours of precious memories
they are long as a Gulu mile
Isabelle Schlegel says
Your verse is so well written, it reads very smoothly. I rarely see structure like this in poets anymore unless I’m reminiscing the classics, like Wordsworth or (my favorite) Percy Shelly. I highly enjoyed reading and re-reading this.