Thursday, July 27, 2017

Mystery at Baddesley Clinton by Eira Needham


Nicholas returns early, gasps; 
the priest is stroking 
his wife’s chin - or perhaps 

he is about to choke her. 
Horror fuels rage, sword 
flashes in candle light.

Step over him now, buried in upright 
stance beneath St. Michael’s entrance.
As penance, he built the church steeple.

The library floor remains ensanguine
by the stone arched fireside, but
whose blood was daubed on the boards? 

Now, footsteps echo along 
panelled corridors that lead 
to the reading room.

Voices argue, startle; a priest 
takes mass in the shadows.
A woman in black drifts 

through walls. Ornaments change
places, door knobs turn  
- hands unseen.







Eira Needham is a retired teacher, living in Birmingham UK. Her poetry is eclectic and has been published in print and online. Some of her publications are in The Linnet’s Wings, Voices from the Web 2016 and Poetry Pacific. She has also been Featured Writer in WestWard Quarterly.

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