Hi Sally,
A neatly told story! (but, like Mike noticed, I too noticed the word Troll
sometimes appeared many times in close proximity!). I guess alternative
words from Trolls may appear awkward (and it may appear so obvious why
they've been chosen as replacements as well!). Could it be possible to
replace the Troll word with quiet words? Words like "they" and "them" may be
easy to use...
"... amusement of its mechante Troll,
>and people grew to fear them."
Just a thought,
Bob
>From: Sally Evans <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: Heathen Cliff
>Date: Sun, 26 Jan 2003 13:37:24 +0000
>
>This is a folk tale I read that attracted me in the way that subjects for
>poems do, so I made a narrative poem of it -
>
>Heathen Cliff
>
>As great cliffs rise round Iceland, so
>they tower round Scotland's northern isles
>and northern mainland's half known coast,
>like Orkney seen beyond Thurso,
>pale turquoise, wave-frothed, grey and white,
>a solidness out of the sea.
>The cold cliff's pinnacles and caves
>demand experienced sailors' crew
>and a strong boat, held firm in calm
>while the rock rests from the high wave.
>
>Or men may tackle from above,
>from windswept shorn grass,flowered grit
>with ropes scale down its rugged plane.
>For there are seabirds there, and eggs
>in cavities, pockets, on ledges,
>and in the old communities
>of predatory economics,
>the crofter-fishermen would climb
>to gannets' harm, where it is known
>St Kilda's sustenance came from.
>In Iceland also there lived Trolls.
>
>Taking the part of birds, who shared
>their domiciles, the Trolls dislodged
>many Icelandic huntsmen from
>their roped descents to plunder homes
>wet wings regarded as their own.
>The ropes were cut and twisted. Men
>crashed down to the upcrashing foam
>while from each cave rang out the droll
>amusement of its mechante Troll,
>and people grew to fear the Trolls.
>
>Then people feared the Trolls, windblown
>and made their Bishop come along
>to exorcise those Trolls from where
>they ruled the cliff. High over sea
>on a bright day when Trolls seemed scarce
>and fear quite heathen, they rehearsed
>their rigmarole with robes and crosses,
>blessing the cliffs, turning their curses
>on the Trolls' homestead caves. They prayed
>with candles, incenses and parade,
>singing and calling out, "Begone!"
>while all the islanders looked on.
>
>As the steep path grew rockier yet
>the Bishop paused to gain his footing
>and a sound boomed out from the cliff
>unhappily and firmly shouting
>in accents all those locals knew:
>"Bishop, that's far enough to go.
>Even the wicked need a home
>and we are wicked, that we own
>but we are here and here would stay.
>Bishop, please take your faith away!"
>All round the rocks a chorus moaned:
>"Bishop, the wicked need a home!"
>
>The Bishop, whether wise or frightened
>we do not know, said, "Troll, quite so.
>From Heathen Cliff (I name it now)
>we will depart," and went, enlightened.
>
>Sally Evans
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