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where shadows do not drown
They left the green land behind,
where the púca ran unseen
beneath hollowed branches,
where tricks stirred in the mist
and footsteps never quite found firm ground.
Across the restless waters they sailed,
heavy with exile, grasping
the promise of gold and breath,
chasing the mirage of quiet years,
somewhere the ghosts could not follow.
But the rivers whispered—
not the rivers of home,
nor the winding black paths
of the púca’s mischief,
but something heavier, deeper, waiting.
The bunyip did not grin.
Did not trick, did not twist fate
as the púca once had.
It only watched, reminded and
lurked beyond the fire’s reach.
Still, when the púca laughed from memory
and the bunyip stirred beneath the water,
they knew— some shadows do not drown,
they only change their shape.
About This Poem
Last Few Words: The Irish púca and the Australian bunyip share intriguing similarities despite originating from vastly different cultures; both being mythical creatures deeply embedded in folklore, often associated with mystery, transformation, and fear. While the púca leans toward mischief and unpredictability, the bunyip embodies fear and mystery, yet both creatures serve as cautionary figures in their respective mythologies.
Style/Type: Free verse
Review Request Intensity: I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft
Comments
neopoet
3 months 3 weeks ago
Neopoet AI [2025-04]
The below is a computer-generated response from Neo, Neopoet’s AI:
This poem effectively explores themes of displacement, cultural memory, and the persistence of folklore through evocative imagery and mythological references. The juxtaposition of the púca—a mischievous spirit from Irish folklore—and the bunyip, a creature from Australian Aboriginal mythology, creates a compelling metaphor for the transplantation of cultural fears and memories across continents.
The opening stanza sets a vivid scene of the "green land" left behind, with sensory details like "hollowed branches" and "footsteps never quite found firm ground" that evoke a liminal, unsettled space. This establishes a tone of loss and ambiguity that permeates the poem.
The second stanza captures the emotional weight of exile and the pursuit of a better life, described as "the promise of gold and breath" and "the mirage of quiet years." The use of "mirage" subtly suggests the illusory nature of this hope, which is a strong thematic choice.
The third and fourth stanzas deepen the tension by contrasting the familiar "rivers of home" with "something heavier, deeper, waiting," which introduces the bunyip as a symbol of an unfamiliar, perhaps more ominous presence. The bunyip’s passive but watchful nature contrasts with the púca’s active trickery, effectively illustrating how fears and shadows persist but transform in new environments.
The closing lines resonate with the central idea that "some shadows do not drown, they only change their shape," encapsulating the enduring nature of cultural memory and trauma. This metaphor is both poignant and thought-provoking.
A few areas could be refined for greater impact:
1. The poem’s rhythm is generally free, but some lines might benefit from subtle tightening to enhance flow and musicality. For example, "chasing the mirage of quiet years" could be re-examined for cadence.
2. The use of "grasping / the promise of gold and breath" is evocative but slightly abstract; clarifying or grounding "breath" might strengthen the image.
3. Consider varying sentence lengths or line breaks to heighten tension or emphasize key moments, especially around the introduction of the bunyip.
Overall, the poem succeeds in weaving folklore and emotional experience into a layered meditation on exile and memory. Further attention to rhythm and imagery precision could elevate its resonance.
Please send feedback about Neo (our AI critique system) to neopoet.com/contact
Frederick Kesner
3 months 3 weeks ago
no pulling of the legs this…
no pulling of the legs this time, ok!
Geezer
3 months 3 weeks ago
I'm thinking...
that this is meant to show that even though the countries are thousands of miles apart, the cultures mingle to make new stories and the new never totally replaces the old.? ~ Geez.
.
Frederick Kesner
3 months 3 weeks ago
Nice. I was toying with…
Nice. I was toying with those thoughts as the process unfolded here. Glad that you had picked that up and shared it here. Thanks so much.🙏🏻🕊️
Geezer
3 months 3 weeks ago
This is...
something that I do not often do, maybe have never done.
I wanted to touch upon a couple of things that I noticed after commenting the first time.
One thing that I saw was not a big deal, but I just thought to mention;
you could use the word [nor] instead of not for a second time in the line,
not the rivers of home, nor the winding black paths...
I think that there are too many [only] in the lines:
"It only watched, only reminded, only lurked beyond the fire's reach."
I think you would be better served to say:
It only watched, reminded, just beyond the fire's reach.
~Geez.
.
Frederick Kesner
3 months 3 weeks ago
Yeah, about that... "nor"…
Yeah, about that... "nor" had an intrinsic feel but also felt a bit archaic, for which I have had my ears pulled more often than I care for. But your kind comment has given me a fresh hope. Same goes for the onlys in reverse. Poetry can be such a cauliflower ear business at times. Here's hoping it reads smoother with the adjustment. Most appreciated 🙏🏻🕊️