James Atchison submitted the following poem in response to Poetry Prompt #21


James Atchison submitted the following poem in response to Poetry Prompt #21


Irascible Ivy was angry
As she watched children skip through the gate
Magic shouldn’t be easy
It made her feel queasy
Still she worried that she’d be too late
She knew the gate had to lead somewhere
Enchanted that land was for sure
So she structured a ladder
And couldn’t be gladder
Imagine the magic she saw!

This portal
speaks to me of Narnia:
the last book, the last battle.
Long before Dr Who,
C.S. Lewis knew, we knew
of the stable bigger on the inside;
though that door was rough and wooden,
a portal can disguise itself
as a gate in a lichened stone wall.
But enter at your peril.
The Irish faery folk haunt castles
and barrows, and mortal souls
can wander their land for a day; returning
to find it is seven years or seventy.
And Narnia was a faery place.
Look, admire, beware; walk through –
only if you desire to be bewitched,
craving the adventure of your life.
