Writing For G.O.T

To Ashes -- Dark Poetry #75-- Florent

287 words, 28 lines
Form: 13 syllables per line in 14 couplets

The day she was tossed onto the sand by a strong swell,
heavens stayed gray for they looked away, getting it wrong.

Yet, the hunted one had run into luck and stood up
before the turbid water and cursed with battered head

that she’d turn them to ashes--teak, rosewood, or walnut,
freighters in harbors, ships at sea, as was meant to be.

Hooligan in arms, a guerilla with vengeance deep
her fists in the air, she vowed to keep her act solid

since someone did dare to take her life away at sea
as festivity when the sky had opened its mouth.

Thus, her magic turned black on existence back to back
and she pawed them to ashes at first shock of contact

Then one day, sailors cruising harbors to fish for love
drunk on tales of the stormy sea met this pretty witch

and she touched a few, turned them gray, while she looked away
at the sun in its mustard-seed robe, to say, “I’ve won!”

But not yet! For she never knew what unbolts the dark
what the rising wind will blow to turn her eyes aglow

and life might not always be prosaically cruel
if she broke barriers, as a rule, she’d see beauty

on land or sea and her reality, eluding
eyes, what a surprise, this intricate recognition

coming to fruition when this odd witch met her match
such a catch, a nobleman, too, at his heart and mind

through and through, with jubilant grins perching on his lips,
“No more ashes,” he said, holding her hands by the shore

“Let old wounds leave!” and he led her through his door because
love is a religion any odd witch could die for.

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Prompt: Her touch turned everything to ashes