Mari Lwyd

A chill fell.
Stars barely broke through the night.
Still frost in darkness
Held hostage by new moons light.

I played alone,
Disturbing banks of snow and resting creatures.
Running breathlessly and excited
Across the lands frozen features.

Merrily I skipped.
Then my ears caught a rattle.
The dry sound
Of a dead, dusty prattle.

It chilled me,
In a way the winter did not.
I shivered violently.
My childish fancy forgot.

So I left.
Seeking to avoid the unpleasant.
Quickly headed home to a fires glow.
Needing no acquaintance at present.

I went home.
Wrapped myself in warmth and cheer.
Then once more and once again
The rattle caught my ear.

On my door,
Rapped a resounding knock.
That rattling thing
Stopped only by the lock.

A voice called,
"A weary traveler here."
The tone was strong.
"Could I rest for a spell?
Please allow it , my dear."

My heart touched,
I recalled my traveling ways.
In search of fire and comfort
On the coldest, darkest days.

How could I
Not offer a share of what i had?
A bite, a drink, a blanket
To this tired wandering lad.

Though wariness remained
I unlatched and opened the door.
Gazing on my guest
I nearly fainted to the floor.

Nose to nose
My eyes fell upon the form of a horse.
No ordinary one.
Its not that kind of tale, Of course.

A shocking visage
Stood to greet my sight.
This dreadful equine shape
Couldnt possibly be right.

Not one hair,
Nor a single strip of meat or skin,
Graced the bones of this stallion
With his skeletal grin.

He shuffled slightly.
Shifted a bit nervously around.
And as he made this movement,
His ribs made that awful rattle-clack sound.

"Greetings, fair one."
The voice was unnerving.
Though polite and musical
Its source was disturbing.

"Sorry to bother,
But I've been traveling nigh unto a week.
Perhaps you could find to spare
Kindness and shelter I seek?"

"I have none."
His strange form frightened me so.
Though it was rudeness
I had to make him go.

"Nary a morsel,
Nor one measly scrap.
Get yourself gone
And do not come back!"

"You are cruel.
You smell strongly of your fright
Couldnt you put away your fear
And have mercy on my plight?"

I-i can not."
I stammered my voice sounding thin.
If I relented who knows
What kind of demon I would be allowing in?

His hooves stamped.
Tamping his annoyance to the ground.
He snorted his displeasure
Blowing hot air around.

"A challenge then!"
He called out. "A battle of wit and rhyme!"
"For your victory you name your price
For my own I will name mine."

"If I win,
You will relent to me,
And gladly you will allow,
Me to indulge in your hospitality."

"And my prize"
I then said to him.
"You will take your permanent leave
Upon my whim."

"We are agreed.
As challenger I go first
I hope you have some measure of skill.
For I will not be at my worst ."

"You scared filly.
Look how you shiver so,
Fear of the unknown possesses  you.
What spirit do you show?"

"Your bones tremble
To see the truth of mine.
Did you ever have courage?
Or did you merely leave it behind?"

"You've shown rudeness.
The likes I've never seen.
How coarse you act.
Your manners are unclean."

"How very uncouth
Revealing yourself to be a boor.
Your mother must find disappointment
In a child with an attitude so poor."


"You acting wise
I would like to witness.
Theres no need for me to guess
You are absolutely witless."

"If thoughts burned,
I have no doubt,
You could not produce enough
But to put the fire out."

His turn finished.
He sat and nodded for me to take my time.
Once again his bones,
Sounded their dull chime.

And I paused.
My mind surely racing,
Breathed deep the frigid air,
Found it to be quite bracing.

"Skill you claim.
Poor weary traveler indeed,
Seeking to make fools of the unwary
Such a noble demon steed!"

"You've cried foul.
Made a mockery of my decorum
When you show yourself to be
In not much finer form."

"When called upon
To partake in the waters of the Hippocrene,
You must have been left behind
As not to create a gruesome scene."

"By the Goddess,
Surely Epona finds in you a great shame.
I will take pity on you though.
Your mother must be to blame."

"I am convinced,
Even a kelpie would call you scum.
You are not worth the naming
Of any shaman's drum."

"You are wanting.
No marrow for your bones to hold.
This contest is settled.
My wit is worth its gold."

My breath shuddered,
I had finished, knowing victory to be sweet
My opponent bowed his head
To better taste his defeat.

"I do concede."
He spoke. "This battle you have won.
I will make myself scarce
And find shelter further on."

He then rose,
Turned to plod along,
Into the darkened night,
Bones still pounding out their rattle-clack song.