Everybody Knows Not to Ever Go Wishing at the Oak

body Knows Not to Ever Go Wishing at the Oak”

  A narrative poem in iambic trimeter

  By Harrison Davidson

  Copyright 2012

  Near acres green and brown

  With Fall leaves falling down;

  Where wind blows softly through

  The grass still wet with dew.

  The red and orange skies,

  Which light up overhead,

  Proclaim the new sun’s rise

  To wake all but the dead.

  In twilight’s dawning sun

  A witch is all but done

  With finishing her spell

  By candle, scroll, and bell.

  She dug the hole by hand,

  And placed the oak inside.

  Then covered it with land,

  And watered ‘round each side.

  Then scroll she did unwind,

  And bell then she did chime,

  And candle she did light,

  And spell she did recite,

  “Oh, waking spirits,

  Do lend me your ears;

  Now hear my lyrics

  To grant me more years.

  For as this tree breathes,

  So shall my heart beat,

  And as its roots hold,

  I shall not grow old.

  Let this tree make real

  The hopes of who comes;

  Whatever they will,

  Let it soon become.

  Grant what they’re wishing,

  Of things they’re dreaming,

  Give them their desires

  As it grows higher.

  And drawing out life

  From loves who loved well

  For me to imbibe

  Forever, until.”

  With now the spell complete

  And spirits put to sleep,

  The witch pulled on her hood,

  And ran back to the woods.

  As seasons changed year ‘round

  And rain turned into snow,

  The roots grew slow through ground

  As days would come and go.

  Till 1693,

  As flowers bloomed in Spring,

  And birds began to sing,

  And bees began to sting.

  In New England’s Yorktown,

  Which, Chartered by the Crown,

  Was growing fast and sound

  As people broke new ground.

  It was within this time

  When boy and girl locked eyes

  Across a busy street

  As both hearts skipped a beat.

  Her hair was chestnut brown,

  And skin looked marble smooth.

  In her gaze he could drown.

  He froze, and could not move.

  A smile then took the lips;

  The lips he dreamed to kiss.

  As she turned to depart,

  It pained him in his heart.

  He saw her turn away.

  His head was filled with fear.

  He ran to her, and prayed

  That she might lend her ear.

  “Before I saw your face

  My heart’s been dead in place,

  But it would die again

  If you could not say when

  I shall be blessed to take

  You with me for a time,

  And if it is our fate,

  Your hand inside of mine.”

  By then her smile did fade,

  And his joy then decayed.

  He quickly lost all hope

  As she turned ‘round and spoke,

  “Regrettably, I must

  Deny your sweet advance.

  It pains me, Sir, do trust,

  To not give you the chance.

  For I promised to wed

  A man who’s fought and bled

  In mud and blood and more

  For our King William’s War.”

  So with one parting gaze

  She walked out of his sight;

  Forever parting ways,

  Forever out his life.

  While watching this transpire

  The witch thought to conspire

  A way to feed her tree

  And stop her feeling weak.

  Her powers as of late

  Were draining very low;

  And so she sought to make

  Her magic oak tree grow.

  “A shame how cruel love is,

  You never get, but give,

  And give all that you can.”

  The witch said to the man.

  “Can I escape this rope

  And gallows made of love

  Or is my only hope

  In shifting stars above?”

  “Though shifting stars I know,

  ‘Tis not the route I’d go;

  For I know surer ways

  That wishes can be made.”

  “Then tell me, Miss, how might

  One use this magic charm?

  For I’ll pay any price

  To hold her in my arms.”

  “Outside of town you’ll find

  A tree line well defined.

  In hiking through the leaves

  You’ll find a special tree.

  If at this tree you wish,

  Then your wish will come true,

  And your true lover’s kiss

  Will find her way to you.”

  So come sunset they went,

  And in the forest spent

  Much night by torches light

  As they performed the rite.

  “Now dig yourself a hole,

  And bury one gold coin.

  For all must pay the toll

  To spirits they enjoin.”

  Then kneeling there beside,

  He clasped his hands, and cried.

  His tears watered the roots

  To nourish a new fruit.

  “I’m wishing that she

  Could love me so, too.

  Forever could we

  Be loving and true.

  Never to depart

  From one other’s heart;

  But bolden and brave,

  And bound to the grave.”

  With now the wish full made,

  The witch did part a smile

  She told him, “Now we wait;

  For love may take a while.”

  Though not but two days passed

  When love did come at last;

  And knocking on his door

  Was her that he adored.

  With no ring on her hand

  And flowers in her hair,

  She greeted, and began

  To tell what brought her there.

  A battle had been lost,

  With soldiers’ lives the cost.

  Though frontline news was grim,

  ‘Twas happy news to him.

  And not long after this

  They were made groom and bride;

  Then with true love’s first kiss

  Pronounced as man and wife.

  Their life was good, although,

  The roots still rooted slow.

  Then Summer’s fruits did grow

  With evil that was sowed.

  And in Fall came the reap

  Of envy, pride, and hate;

  And jealousy did creep

  Into a love once great.

  And soon the fights began.

  He’d blame, and he’d demand;

  He’d scream, and he’d accuse,

  And call her love untrue.

  So every night she’d cry;

  For she did not know how

  To prove her love no lie

  But to swear and avow.

  But
he could not believe,

  And so each night he’d leave

  To water round the tree;

  And his wish he’d repeat.

  Until one day he found

  A note of relevance

  While spying all around

  For damning evidence.

  He showed what he obtained,

  And she tried to explain,

  “This letter is the last

  I got before he passed.

  It’s all I have from him.

  We never spoke again.

  And though I loved him then,

  It’s you that I am with.”

  Though words don’t cut through bark,

  These words did light a spark

  Which envy turned to flame

  That no water could tame.

  “You must think I’m dumb

  To tell such a lie.

  But I won’t succumb

  To hearing your cries.”

  “Then I’ll throw it away

  If that is what it takes.

  I swear to All Above

  That you’re the man I love.”

  Though trying to defend,

  Her truth could do no good.

  Her love could not make bend

  A heart now hard as wood.

  Then by her hair he grabbed,

  And with a knife he stabbed.

  She tried to scream his name;

  He killed her just the same.

  He took her to the tree,

  And by the roots he dug

  A hole near six foot deep,

  Which fit her nice and snug.

  But as be placed the dirt,

  His heart began to hurt;

  As he looked on her face,

  He saw his great mistake.

  He threw the shovel down,

  And climbed his way inside.

  He brought her above ground,

  And held her till sunrise.

  As townsfolk came alive

  To start their chores outside,

  The man came to admit

  His awful, awful sin.

  Emerging from the trees

  A ripped and tattered mess,

  With mud stains on his knees

  And blood stains on his chest.

  The people from the town

  Gave pause, and gathered ‘round.

  With everyone ahead

  He stopped, and to them said,

  “Let it be known my mind was poisoned here;

  Though no excuse for what my hands have done.

  It was not me, I was not thinking clear.

  Though this be true, for mercy I ask none.

  I’ve snuffed the flame that warmed my frozen heart

  With shadows from a dark and evil place.

  From one wish there did all this madness start.

  The oak tree caught my heart with its embrace.

  Inside the trees you’ll find a six foot grave.

  Inside of it you’ll find my murdered wife.

  Let me assure you that she can’t be saved

  I held her tight, and stabbed her with this knife.

  I only ask you all to find my bride,

  And take me there to bury me beside.”

  With eyes both sad and grim,

  And all his words now said,

  He stabbed the knife in him

  Who stabbed his wife to death.

  The town was all in awe

  At what they had just saw,

  But honored his request,

  And buried them abreast.

  Some people tried to burn;

  Some tried to cut it down,

  But each were killed in turn

  While roots held firm in ground.

  Although the oak still grows,

  Its secret is well known.

  Since it would not tear down

  They left it up, but now,

  Everybody knows

  Not to ever go

  Wishing at the oak.

  Hello, readers!

  Thanks again for reading. Take care.