Blodeuwedd


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Oak blossom, broom and meadowsweet,
magicians’ conjured ‘flower face’
that tricked the tynged, stood in place
 

of mortal wife, would spawn deceit.
Sated beauty, castigated,
bloom shackled to nocturnal cleat,
 

her tawny-feathered fall from grace
reviled across the meadow sweet.
 
 

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Filed under Octain, Poetry

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