Inspired by Walter de la Mare

Walter de la Mare's book of poetry for children, 'Peacock Pie' was first published in 1913. I have a copy of this anthology that was republished in 1962. 

Walter de la Mare (1873 - 1956) was a British author of diverse talent who wrote everything from poetry to horror stories to children's books. His writing focused around the themes of childhood, imagination, and the supernatural. 

During my school days I recall being introduced to Walter de la Mare's poetry and a lot of it has stuck, which is a sure sign that his words made a connection. I particularly liked the poems, 'Five Eyes' and 'Silver' which are reproduced below.

Five Eyes

Walter de la Mare

In Hans' old Mill his three black cats
Watch the bins for the thieving rats.
Whisker and claw, they crouch in the night,
Their five eyes smouldering green and bright:
Squeaks from the flour sacks, squeaks from where
The cold wind stirs on the empty stair,
Squeaking and scampering, everywhere.
Then down they pounce, now in, now out,
At whisking tail, and sniffing snout;
While lean old Hans he snores away
Till peep of light at break of day;
Then up he climbs to his creaking mill,
Out come his cats all grey with meal - 

Jekkel, and Jessup, and one-eyed Jill.

Silver

Walter de la Mare

Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep
Of doves in silver feathered sleep
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws, and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam,

By silver reeds in a silver stream. 

As mentioned earlier, De la Mare was interested in supernatural things such as fairies, witches, ghosts and mythical creatures. I have lent into that interest for my inspiration, 

The result- I composed a little poem about a witches' ride across the night sky.I dedicate it to Walter in gratitude for influencing my childhood reading experiences.

The Ride of the Sky Witch

Upon her broom a witch goes riding.
Cloaked in darkness,
Dipping, gliding.

Away she sweeps across the sky.
All cackle and howl,
and mournful cry.

In the gathering evening gloom.
She hovers in shadows,
A portent of doom.

Spells are muttered to the darkened sky
And then with a whoop
Away she will fly

Along the laneway, through the street
Her evening ride
Is short and sweet

A final swoop above the town
Then homeward bound
Her broom heads down