The ancient one, birthed in another age
beak mouthed, strangely skeletal
peels away from her verdant slope
stutters stonily on tiny hooves
shakes dust from ethereal flanks
nuzzles her impalpable foal
She who once pulled the chariot of the Sun
wakes on this eve of dreams
gallops over hill and vale
bone stone cold creature
looming, outsized, lumpy
she sails over hedgerows
scatters cattle and chickens
sets farm dogs barking
pet dogs to cower
She will break over you like an ocean wave
roll you over and under in your midsummer dreaming
refreshing or drowning, you make your choice, take your chance
Rosy fingered dawn will return her
stiffening to the high slopes
she settles creaking into green
back to the land
For now
Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond
If you stand in the valley near the village of Uffington in Oxfordshire and look up at the high curve of chalk grassland above, you can see an enormous white, abstract stick figure horse cut into the grass. She has a sweeping body, a round eye set in a square head, a beak. and an invisible foal (you’ll have to trust me on that last one).
This is the Uffington White Horse, a 3,000-year-old pictogram visible from 20 miles away.
Once every hundred years the Uffington horse gallops across the sky to be reshod by Wayland in his smithy, just along the Ridgeway track. This is said to have last happened in around 1920. Maybe Wayland waits for her tonight……
This poem was written for the Earthweal Weekly Challenge.
I love this! What a wondrous beast to ride the summer’s night. I’ve always love the tensed energy of this Horse (I have it tattooed on my right upper arm) and the dance of her here is magnificent. I dream deep in her wave. Thanks for giving the challenge this gallop!
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She has echoed through the ages and her effects linger. Many of the local community claim to have been conceived on that horse!
Have you ever visited her?
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No, just read and dreamed. I understand spending the night in Uffington’s eye hits the fertility spot!
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Locals say anywhere on the horse or Dragons Hill….
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Wondrous mystical imagery Kim, and love the magic in these lines…
“She who once pulled the chariot of the Sun
wakes on this eve of dreams
gallops over hill and vale”
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Thank you Ivor, that’s much appreciated.
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Wow! A fabulous poem, a pictograph and a legend. How wonderful. I have missed earthweal and its poets. So happy to read this!
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Hi Sherry! I’m very glad that you like my poem , and yes, it’s good “getting the band back together “….
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Such inspired words: I can feel the myth of the horse being channeled through you! I love that vision of her travelling over the hills like a wave, and the nod to Homer at the end.
This is going to sound very prosaic, but can you see her from the M4? I have a feeling I’ve seen her before, but I can’t remember when or how exactly. It must have been during my own personal dreamtime!
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No, you cannot see her from the M4! :)
Glad you spotted the Homer reference. The Horse and Homer are about the same age, so it seemed a good thing to do….
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Maybe I only saw her in my dreams then 😅
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I do hope that you ween’t driving at the time!
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No, I try never to dream and drive!
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Nice how you wove history in this challenge. Lovely piece.
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Thank you!
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Beautifully penned and I love the idea of her galloping across the sky to be reshod by Wayland in his smithy 😊
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She may only trot there, as it’s only about one mile away ! Local Legend says Wayland hans out at a local Long Barrow (tomb). If you leave a living horse there overnight, it will be re-shod by Wayland.
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Wonderful! 🐴
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I enjoyed the ride you took us on, and the magic of this horse, perhaps still leaping just out of sight ~
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Thank you! Yes, the horse is always leaping at the corner of my eye.
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This was amazing and I really enjoyed your added note of explanation. It adds to the mystical vibe.
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Thank you — Thoight I should add something, as the legends are very local…..
In fact, this is the oldest of 12 white horses carved into chalk hills in the area. Apparently, they all come down from the hills at different times!
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Wonderful! I’d only come across the white chalk horse in Pratchett novels before. I love your poem. <3
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Yes, Terrys horse is the Uffington horse. Terry lived on the Chalk…..
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That is quite a story! To be so enchanted by a horse that a powerful poem emerges – quite an experience, Kim.
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I love all the horses carved into the hills in our area. They all require concerted commnity effort to remain –annual clearing back of the grass. So it’s amazing that they are still there!
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She will break over you like an ocean wave–I especially like the imagery in this stanza. Midsummer is definitely a time where life is intensified, and the unseen takes form in our bodies and minds. (K)
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Thank you….
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“Rosy fingered dawn will return her
stiffening to the high slopes
she settles creaking into green
back to the land”
What a vivid image of the horse’s return! And a wonderful flight of the imagination! JIM
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Thanks Jim — much appreciated…..
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