The Island of Summerisle, in the Outer Hebrides… The people worshiped the beauty of the sun, the beauty of the Gods and the Goddess', the power of that mother of all of us- The Earth… Their leader lived alone, with his only son. They lived alone for the other one was away on the Mainland. The place where people of the island depended to sell the stock and supplies. Their Lord, however, always dreamed of his daughter and spoke of her often. His smart little flower, who bloomed like a poppy in the dead fields of no-man's land, and the first flower that the Pagans worshipped… The Lord Summerisle was the King and his son was the Prince and heir. Not because he was a boy, but the eldest… But The King loved his daughter, whom was the island's beloved and adored Princess…
Mad Patsy said, he said to me,
That every morning he could see
An angel walking on the sky;
Across the sunny skies of morn
He threw great handfuls far and nigh
Of poppy seed among the corn;
And then, he said, the angels run
To see the poppies in the sun.
Their Princess was a sweet young thing, her dark blue eyes with a green circle around her pupil… It was like the outline of an eclipse. Some said when she was a child, that she was the girl with the most beautiful eyes… Her eyes were grey when sad, violet when happy and as black as the night sky when she is hit by midnight. Her hair quite long, a reddish dark brown… After her father's heart they say. Everyone knew that the Lord's daughter was his favourite…
Even his son knew he was inferior to his sister…
A poppy is a devil weed, I said to him - he disagreed;
He said the devil had no hand
In spreading flowers tall and fair
Through corn and rye and meadow land,
By garth and barrow everywhere:
The devil has not any flower,
But only money in his power.
Everyone knew that Yardley hated his little sister and her beautiful grace. Her stunning eyes, her dark brown hair and her angel's voice that the Goddess granted her. Yardley said that his sister was an evil child, if there was such a thing. What girl can be praised with beauty and greatness…When the purpose of her birth, caused death to her mother?
And then he stretched out in the sun
And rolled upon his back for fun:
He kicked his legs and roared for joy
Because the sun was shining down:
He said he was a little boy
And would not work for any clown:
He ran and laughed behind a bee,
And danced for very ecstasy.
But the people didn't care, nor did her father. For her mother lived in the girl, the Princess and the Goddess re-born, the Goddess of Home, family and nature. She really was Ceres, Diana and Sophia, she really was a Goddess re-born.Yardley hated her… His views were strange for a Pagan child, where equality of the genders, races and families are present. Where everyone is a recreation of another being. To many people, they say Yardley must have been a wingless seagull…For he just hovered around and took what was not needed… For he left his troubles for someone else to deal with them. For he wanted to fly, but he was trapped behind. While his sister flew the skies and was admired by everyone who viewed her…?
The girl could have been a many other things, other then a Goddess…
Was she a bird, like dove?
Was she a guardian angel to a brave fighter?
Was she a tree?
Was she an animal like a hare, the beautiful creatures of March?
No, many believed, and her mother believed that the girl was a special flower in her last life. A beautiful flower that could bloom in any field, even dead fields, which no other flower could live upon. She was her mother's favourite flower…
She was a poppy in her last life.
And that's what she is in this…
The beloved Princess Poppy of Summerisle… The future of the island. Her father would not live forever; destiny takes him next year… Where he would give himself for her and he would die to protect her future. Her brother would be hated, while little Poppy will shine…
One day she'll rule the whole world…
But sadly not in this life, the future sees Poppy's future. It's murder, the hated crime that was the mark of anger, or a demon and of the person who would have no second life… But to be something as terrible as another human…
She wasn't drowned in the sea. She was not burnt in the Wicker Man…
Her own brother just to take away her innocent killed her and un touched life.
She was the pure one, whom everyone loved.
Not any man had never touched her, despite her age of sixteen years…
She had been on the mainland, and never had made contact… She was a virgin, a most beloved virgin of Summerisle. A beloved daughter of the late Lord, who had tried to save her from the burning…
Still she will save the island and save many more people from the Wicker Man. For being on the mainland had taught her a thing or two. She sent for new apple trees and planted them on fertile land. She created an apple garden, where people always came. She was the Goddess of Nature to be sure, for the apples she grew where the most ripe and tasty of all… It was on a May Day, once the people had given thanks that Poppy died. She had lead the crowd down the path, not Yardley, their really Lord. The people idled Poppy, and her pure white dress, that she wore with pride as the people proclaimed her the 'Queen of the May'. Her flowered crown she wore with pride with a smile upon her face. The produce surrounded her…
"This is a gift from the Goddess!" she proclaimed, and to Yardley's hatred to her, she picked up an apple lovingly and kissed it. "We must give it all the love and needs that it desires… If we just leave it alone, like we have for so many years… They are neglected and die… Which is why from now on… Apples should be treated as my father's garden's apples were. With love and with care… If we aide the Goddess rather then rely on her to do all the work… We shall be praised greatly!"
Summer set lip to earth's bosom bare,
And left the flushed print in a poppy there:
Like a yawn of fire from the grass it came,
And the fanning wind puffed it to flapping flame.
She was the flame of Summerisle… That was for sure! The beloved Queen of the May and the Princess of all Hearts there. Her dressed in while, her crown of her name – poppies – and her natural charm had one the hearts… Nothing that Yardley should ever do…
The sleep-flower sways in the wheat its head,
Heavy with dreams, as that with bread:
The goodly grain and the sun-flushed sleeper
The reaper reaps, and Time the reaper.
When the bakers, the fishmonger, the butcher and the candlestick maker, had thanked Poppy for her wonderful speech. They all left her alone with the wrecked Wicker Man. The one that carried her father away…
Awake my dear one,
Do not cry,
What's done is done.
To morn forever, you'll never fly…
"But poppies are not meant to fly, father" she whispered under her breath of coldness that the sea covered her with.
She'd heard a sound…
She turned around…
She turned, with the rout of her dusk South hair,
And saw the sleeping gypsy there:
And snatched and snapped it in swift child's whim,
With"Keep it, long as you live!" to him.
"Why are you here?" Poppy asked her brother, his eyes were red like death and this worried the young woman. Why was he there? He never came to morn father! Why come now? "You never come here, your guilt is too great… You killed father! You did nothing to defend my theory of the trees… Now we have blossomed and last year we had your apples…"
"A little more guilt won't hurt me!"
"Was never such thing until this hour,"
Low to his heart he said; "the flower
Of sleep brings wakening to me,
And of oblivion, memory."
There was a struggle, a silent cry. Yardely's anger was fed. There was a cut in her head… Was she dead? He didn't check… He threw he down into the sea from the top of the cliff… As she fell deeper then God of the Sea swallowed her and her innocence… Never was there and more giving girl… He whispered to her. She was not dead, and the fall did not kill her either butas the lungs filled with water and she drowned…
Love, love! your flower of withered dream
In leavèd rhyme lies safe, I deem,
Sheltered and shut in a nook of rhyme,
From the reaper man, and his reaper Time.
When she was found… the Island stopped still and fell into sadness. They tried to remember her in nice ways, but couldn't… they were worrying about their future… Then be brother said, of all people to do so… That on Poppy's birthday, they may wear poppies to remember her. Her brother was never found out, and it was only fair for island to believe that Yardley loved his sister. Besides, Poppy was not one to hold a grudge… So, from then to this day on the day of Poppy's birth… They celebrate her life with a poppy on their buttons and they plant a poppy seed every year…
Summerisle's Poppy Day was indeed the 11th of November… But they didn't wear them for those who died at war. They considered that the Goddess and God had carried her away to the same heaven each one of those men went too…
On the day of Poppy's birth, peace was made…
So many years ago…
So that is the tale of the Princess Poppy, whom the island used to love. She was a flower that bloomed in a no-man's land… She was a woman, whom Yardley used to hate, but he still wore a Poppy on his button on her birthday…
Was he begging for forgiveness?
We shall never know…
They say to chose a hare,
You pick them up by the ears; there are telling signs,
In the air,
The male will kick and strike,
While females stair with bleary eyes…
But, if both are set the ground,
And left to bounce and flee,
Who have been so brave as to say,
That the hare is a he…
Or a she?
Who is a man to say, he is superior to a woman? In a Pagan's world we are mant to be all equal... But remember this of Poppy... When you speak of a country, who is she? When you speak of your daughter, who is she? When you this of the Earth, who is she?
Whom is greater in this world,
The unknown figure,
Of a male God?
Or the beautiful Earth...
Of a female mother?
The verses from poems come from different poems I found on the internet. The characters belong to the writers of 'The Wicker Man' except Poppy and Yardley. The poems belong to their writers and the story idea is mine...
Happy Spring Everyone!