I loved both my daughters dearly, aye,
the eldest with coal black hair and eyes,
the youngest fair-haired, gentle and kind.
They grew up together by the North Sea shore,
until a knight came knocking at our door
with gifts of rings and gloves, and more.
My daughters often loved to roam
on the shore where the breakers foam.
One day, my dark-haired girl returned alone.
So many tears I moaned and wailed,
while the knight took a boat with a single sail
and searched for my daughter, to no avail.
He courted our dark daughter and the date was set;
in the castle hall, the wedding guests met,
with minstrels to play, the best we could get.
They brought a harp, it was made of bone,
which the minstrels laid on a seat of stone—
when it started to play, all on its own.
It told the story of how it was made,
from the breastbone of a poor drowned maid,
strung with three locks from her golden braid.
The harp sang with a sorrowful sound
of how the bride her sister drowned
and thought her body would never be found.
The knight saw terror on his black-haired bride,
who shivered and trembled at his side,
while her father and I could only cry
at the loss of our two darling daughters,
one to the gallows, the other to water.
Kim M. Russell, 10th November 2026
At the dVerse Poets Pub today, Merril is hosting Tuesday Poetics, and we are writing poems which give secondary characters a voice. Merril asks us to choose a character from a well-known story, myth, book, fairy tale, movie, play, or even song who is not the lead character, and write a poem from their point of view.
The examples she gives are John Updike’s novel about Gertrude, Hamlet’s mother (Gertrude and Claudius, 2000) and Tom Stoppard’s absurdist play, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead based on the minor characters who were Hamlet’s childhood friends, as well as a poem by Margaret Atwood, written from the perspective of one of the sirens from Greek mythology, instead of Odysseus. We may choose any character, any style, and there is no form requirement.
I chose an old English folk song, ‘Cruel Sister’, of which the origins can be traced back to the 16th century, and which has been passed down through oral tradition. There are many versions of the ballad, and nobody seems to know who wrote the original. It tells the story of two sisters, one kind and gentle, the other spiteful and jealous, who both fall in love with the same man. The kind sister is murdered by the jealous sister and her body is used to create a harp that plays music at the cruel sister’s wedding, revealing the cruel act. I wrote from the mother’s point of view.
I had never heard this tale before… such darkness, and the harp singing by itself is almost like a ghost-story. Losing both her daughters, a mother’s loss.
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Thank you, Björn. We have so many folk songs in the UK.
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I love this, Kim! I love these old ballads, though I don’t remember this song. I’m sure I must have heard it before. I like your take on it, and how you’ve crafted it as a ballad in response. That harp made from the sister’s bone and hair–so ghostly. The harp is another character, too.
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Thank you, Merril. I was originally going to write it from the pov of the harp.
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You’re welcome, Kim! I still have the song going through my head.
I think you should write one from the point of view of the harp, even if you don’t write it for this prompt. Maybe one to submit?
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I’ll give it a go, Merril. Thank you.
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💙
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Loved this. The narrative style swept me along and that “aye” in the beginning gave the tone and accent to the verse, which I thought was masterful, and accordingly read it in an older English. Truly wonderful poetry this one, with emotion in the forefront.
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Your lovely comments are much appreciated, Ain.
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This is exquisitely drawn, Kim! Wow! The image of the harp singing by itself is so dark and powerful! ❤️🔥❤️🔥
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OMG, this is super sad and beautifully written
much love
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Thank you so much, Gillena, and much love to you!
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I am not familiar with the story, now I will be looking it up!
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Thank you for reading and commenting.
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This is beautiful. The harp made of the daughter’s bone is haunting.
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Thankyou, Lisa.
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You held my attention with your story, Kim. What a tragedy all the way around.
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Thank you, Lisa!
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You’re very welcome.
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I choice a similar tale – albeit a bit more ‘low-brow’! I love your re-take and how effortlessly the story flowed – Jae
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Thank you, Jae! I’ll be over to read in a while.
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Very nicely done Kim, the rhyming triplets are very effective.
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Thanks Shaun. I tend toward couplets and triplets.
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Oh! A masterful retelling of this tale of treachery, Kim. The triplets work their ambivalent magic…
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Thank you very much, Andrew. I was so lucky to see Pentangle and Bert Jansch live in the seventies. Despite being a heavy rock fan, I love British and Irish folk music.
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What a haunting poem. Telling it through the mother’s eyes makes the ending so sad. Beautifully done.
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what a creative take Kim, and the rhyme is so effective love it 🙌
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Thank you, Ange! 💕
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♥️
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I so love this, Kim! You bring the old ballad alive with your beautiful retelling.❤️
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Thank you so much, Punam! 💕
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Taking on the voice of the mother here is brilliant, Kim. She goes from pride to sorrow and can I say shock at the end. So very well done!
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Thank you, Lill!
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The form really lends itself to it as a sung song, fab re- making of the story
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Thank you very much for reading and commenting, Fleur.
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