Kern Maiden


Woven straw of string tied doll

hanging from a farmers post,

pin-pricked, spat on, cursed by all,

once a life, now more a Ghost


Fumbling’s of the foulest feast,

Whispered threats to Promise Keep.

These Woods belie a Darker Beast

And far to go before you sleep.


Touch the corn to feel the Pain

the Hearts that Beat here share no Tongue,

Though they’ll recall from whence you came

to tell it all, but just for fun


You are of Flesh and not the Grain

your Harvest spoiled was Salted Tears,

The Scythe that Swept will Cut again

that None be spared their Childhood Fears

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.