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The Hitching Stone

The Hitching Stone

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Published by Ian Thorpe
A passionate love affair,, witchcraft and retribution. Oo - er.
Poetry readers on the web like the dark stuff judging by reaction my more gothic poems so this one should be well received . The Hitching Stone in the title is a megalith on Cowling Moor, Yorkshire, which borders Withins Moor aka Wuthering Heights in Bronte's fiction. The bleak grandeur of the setting suits both the story and this poem.
A passionate love affair,, witchcraft and retribution. Oo - er.
Poetry readers on the web like the dark stuff judging by reaction my more gothic poems so this one should be well received . The Hitching Stone in the title is a megalith on Cowling Moor, Yorkshire, which borders Withins Moor aka Wuthering Heights in Bronte's fiction. The bleak grandeur of the setting suits both the story and this poem.

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Published by: Ian Thorpe on Jan 30, 2013
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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01/30/2013

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The Hitching StoneYou guys like the dark stuff judging by reaction my more gothic poems. The HitchingStone in this poem is on Cowling Moor, Yorkshire, which borders Withins Moor akaWuthering Heights in Bronte's fiction. The setting suits both the story and this poem.
 Picture credits below poem:
Some though not all my poems are loosely based on personal experience (plus a lot of poetic licence). The lady in this one, a white witch she claimed, took me to the Hitching Stone megalith on the Pennine Moors, for the specific purpose of using myenergy to work magic. I'm a high energy person apparently though I don't always feel it. She later said I had cured her arthritic spine - but I thought we were just having a good time.
You took me high, where wind bitesand even summer sun cannot paintsere grass with the colours of life.You took me to the forsaken place wherea sentinel guards the meeting of the leys;there you took me in blood and hunger,fed on me, nourished yourself, became whole
 Hitching Stone - under a dramatic sky From a different angle, showing the sere landscape
 
as we writhed, love-crazy, in the shadowof the monolith. You took all I could give but wanted more; to hold, possess; to keep.It was your goddess who ruled the place,how could you oppose her, you who once saidshe sent me, guided me to your door .I had done my work, healed you,it was time to go. Our love was always of the transient kind. You would notloose hold and so she tore me from you.I was released; sent away to repay other debts.She is kind to me now, your Goddess,I have paid the price for hubris, with interest.I was brought down but now she lifts meonce more. But you, who challenged her?She turned away from you and nowonly the withered fingers of age caress,cold as frost, where my touch once burned.The wind that hunts around theHitching Stone, carries echoes of your keening cries back to the places whereyou tried to cheat the goddess of her giftand sacrificed your sacred heart.Copyright © Ian Thorpe, 2002
 Photo sources: leftfelix spencer, flickr rightphilip coppens(Philips's page on the hittching Stone contains a wealth of information, both geological and from the folklore surrounding the stone.

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