Treasure Island

David McLansky

(5/24/1944 / New York City)

The Oaten Bride (2)


The Maiden, decked in purple flowers,
Dances, chants, her final hours;
For when the shadow of the moon
Cast by Knife rock in the gloom
Does touch the polished grinding stone,
All will know the time is shown:
To pierce her with the Oat Stalk knife
To bring the plant God back to life.

The singing mounts in celebration
The Maiden shows no hesitation;
Honored, feted, filled with pride
She dances as the Oat God’s bride;
A nymph amid the blowing mist,
A crumpled oat stalk in her fist.

Her hair is oaten like her cloak;
Her supple limbs gleam in the smoke;
On her head an oaten crown
Formed of oat stalks woven round;

What bride upon her wedding night
Steps so sure with foot so light?
What joy blooms there upon her check;
What rapture as she twists and leaps’

The moon will summon as a bell
There’s magic in …

Submitted: Thursday, September 19, 2013
Edited: Thursday, September 19, 2013

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Comments about this poem (The Oaten Bride (2) by David McLansky )

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  • Gajanan Mishra (9/19/2013 5:19:00 AM)

    the moon will summon as a bell, good write,
    Please read my poem'Family members and comment and vote. (Report) Reply

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