Three Strangers

[smokingboot]

I remembered one of my old poems today in the wake of the Erin Patterson judgement (https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/live/cm26eq093myt)

Three Strangers

Three strangers come in from the wild
Their feet are wet and bare
They smell of leaves, of muddy sheaves
And the earth breathes in their hair

Now the first bears a scarlet bonnet
With spots crusted like cream
One trembling bite on a merry night
And forever more you’ll dream

Now the next is tall and shining
Cherub white and sweet of smell
And will take you straight to the final gate
Though it lead to heaven or hell

Now the final one stands quiet
yet his foot be swollen round
Though he looks so plain, do not test his fame,
Or sleep ever underground

Three strangers by the pantry door
From soil and field and tree
Never give them time, never bid them dine,
Or they’ll stay longer than thee.

And because I got excited, tried to paint the three.



The fly agaric looks like a flying saucer. This would be great if it was deliberate instead of just throwing acrylics around cos I like how they feel.

Comments

[asakiyume]

I love this poem! This is yours? It's great! From the poem I instantly recognize the fly agaric and the destroying angel, so is the third the death cap?

[smokingboot]

It's mine! Thank you for liking it :-) I love this poem too, and yes competely right, the third is the death cap, so innocuous looking except for that walloping great volva at the base.

[summersgate]

I absolutely love your poem and painting!!! I love how you used that thick white paint.

[smokingboot]

Thank you!
You help me a great deal.
I am abashed by my painting efforts generally but am having a moment with thick white gloopy paints against white backgrounds. So satisfying!