Folklore

Old Cold Gods

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Folklore

Old Cold Gods



“Wekk up lad, cum’n see, its ‘er time!”

The old man shook me awake, stooping under the low ceiling of the old farmhouse.

I was thrilled and honoured; the old man, my Grandfather, had chosen me to share this moment, which he had awaited, sleeplessly, for over a week.

I quickly got dressed, it was Easter, but Easter came early and my breath fogged before me in the bedroom.  The only warm room on the farm was the kitchen, the realm of my Grandmother.

I pulled on my boots and we tramped across the cobbled yard to the stable.

Inside, the young Clydesdale Mare, the pride and joy of my Grandfather, was about to drop her first foal.

I expected a long wait, but it all happened so fast, within minutes the foal was there, dark chestnut with a white star and four white socks, a dream of a young mare.  But that wasn’t all, after he’d cleaned the nostrils and rubbed the foal with straw, the old man sat down to wait.  I watched enthralled, as the puzzled young mare cleaned her foal, then the first unsteady attempts to stand.  

“That’s it lad, it’s important, we’re dunn ‘ere,” my Grandfather picked up the afterbirth, with some reverence, and strode out of the stall.

Outside he set off, not to the farm, or the midden as I expected.  With the dripping placenta in his arms, he strode up the hill above the farm.  Dawn was breaking on the pennine uplands and the valley below was filled with a sea of fog.  It was a magical experience for a four year old boy.

Half a mile above the farm there is a spring, where water bubbles, glass clear, out of the hillside into an old stone trough.  Hanging over the spring is a thorn bush, a blackthorn, rare at this height near the tree-line.

With care and reverence, the old man hung the placenta in the bush.  

I watched the ceremony, somewhat bemused, but I knew it was a ceremony.

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Legend of Yancy Parfoot, The

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Potpourri

Pets Abound



In Yancy Parfoot's furbound town there's fur and teeth and claws

It's a place where many pets abound. There's prints of many paws



The dogs and cats are treated well; are curried, combed and fed

They're given everything they want before they go to bed



The elephants are given corn and pedicured each day

Hyenas laugh at tall giraffes. The cows have too much hay



The water troughs are always full. The bins are full of grain

The hippos have a river bed. The ducks have lots of rain



The eagle flies in clear blue skies. The updrafts never end

The beaver has a king-sized dam and the otter for a friend



The kangaroo can jump and play with dingos hangin' 'round

'Cause all the animals are good friends in Yancy Parfoot's town



The monkeys high up in the tree swing and eat their fruit

While down below the camel chews and the pack rat checks his loot



The mole is digging through the dirt, while the mouse runs through the ruts

The robin's tugging on a worm and the squirrel is eating nuts



The owl flies when darkness comes and the stars are shining bright

The coyotes howl and great wolves prowl in the cover of the night



The lions lay in tall plain's grass. They play and lick their feet

And Yancy Parfoot comes each day from the market with their meat



It's truly a heaven for animals in Yancy Parfoot's town

He moved there twenty years ago 'cause people let him down

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just havin' fun

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Peace Among the Chaos

I race the sun light through streams of trees

I run so fast, too fast to breath

Jump and dodge joins in my beat

I sprint to tree, from tree to creek



My world spins while the sky falls down

I stop by a cliff as did all sound

Laughter fades when I look at my town

Below the cliff there is nothing but ground



I run with hesitation to my once called home

Then fall and stare at the ashes being blown

I race against my mind to cease

Reason for the chaos among the peace



People emerge from the forest with fear

Children cry, women moan, men’s eyes spilling tears

War’s chaos could only had brought forth it’s birth

Yet those with strong eyes say it was all work of earth



We sit round a circle and plan for tomorrow

Women stand and dance to ease our sorrow

Songs grow loud and the lyrics speak of the day loss

While we, the Nacirema hope for peace among the chaos.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Inspired by Horace Minner's "Body Rituals Among the Nacirema"

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The China Doll (Poetic Version)

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UNUSUAL POEMS



The China DOll (poetic version)







The China Doll,

the fateful small

little "person"

to have come and

gone, n' so short

a while.....

a special present

with a tell-tale

smile....



this is a story of

a little girl,

and how her life,

began to whirl...

her father brought

home a special

gift, it was a doll,

that went "adrift"!



Nobody knew

the things that

brewed , inside

of this dolls mind...

the doll had been

a "baby" before,

t'wasn't the last

time, she'd hit

the floors!



The little girl, loved

her so, and brought

her everywheres..

but, the doll had other

thoughts, and plans, n'

would constantly

disappear!



One morning it

vanished, after a good

nights rest,

the child she searched

for it, and there it

lay on her

mother's

breast.

Her mother , who did

not breathe , was rushed

to the hospital, that very eve'

but, if you looked , a

bit nearer,

there was a smile

on the doll, t'was

more severer'!



The next night,

she was snuggled up

tight, while in the bed,

with her mama,

but, never fear,

look here, look there,

that doll, was out for

drama!

Quickly, quietly,

oh most, decidedly,

this doll just wouldn't

stay still,

the very next morning

when the girl woke up

she found her doll ,

by her dad's window

sill!

Her dad's health

had taken a turn,

he rushed to the hospital

as well, ...

but, as the little girl sat,

waited where she was at,

she wondered,

why she suddenly felt

such a "chill".



As she sat, and waited to

see her parents, a certain

gleam came to the eyes

of a little silent doll,

that sat in the hall,

looking scarier than she

should seem!

A Nurse, passing by,

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This story used to scare me, but, it was a fun scare..as much fun to hear it as to tell it..and change it all of the time!

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Dream Catcher

Folder: 
2006 Poetry

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The web of life hangs over the bed,

catching the dreams and visions of life.

Some are good and should be saved,

others are bad and must be discarded.

The good are caught in this spiritual web,

as the bad flow freely through the hole.

The Dream Catcher from Lakota lore

passed down from Iktomi the teacher

to hold the destiny of our future.

Author's Notes/Comments: 


Long ago when the world was young, an old Lakota spiritual leader was on a high mountain and had a vision.

In his vision, Iktomi, the great trickster and teacher of wisdom, appeared in the form of a spider.

Iktomi spoke to him in a sacred language that only the spiritual leaders of the Lakota could understand.

As he spoke Iktomi, the spider, took the elder's willow hoop which had feathers, horse hair, beads and offerings on it and began to spin a web.

He spoke to the elder about the cycles of life ... and how we begin our lives as infants and we move on to childhood, and then to adulthood. Finally, we go to old age where we must be taken care of as infants, completing the cycle.

"But," Iktomi said as he continued to spin his web, "in each time of life there are many forces -- some good and some bad. If you listen to the good forces, they will steer you in the right direction. But if you listen to the bad forces, they will hurt you and steer you in the wrong direction."

He continued, "There are many forces and different directions that can help or interfere with the harmony of nature, and also with the great spirit and-all of his wonderful teachings."

All the while the spider spoke, he continued to weave his web starting from the outside and working toward the center.

When Iktomi finished speaking, he gave the Lakota elder the web and said..."See, the web is a perfect circle but there is a hole in the center of the circle."

He said, "Use the web to help yourself and your people to reach your goals and make good use of your people's ideas, dreams and visions.

"If you believe in the great spirit, the web will catch your good ideas -- and the bad ones will go through the hole."

The Lakota elder passed on his vision to his people and now the Sioux Indians use the dream catcher as the web of their life.

It is hung above their beds or in their home to sift their dreams and visions.

The good in their dreams are captured in the web of life and carried with them...but the evil in their dreams escapes through the hole in the center of the web and are no longer a part of them.

They believe that the dream catcher holds the destiny of their future.

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Lady Death

Folder: 
My Works

Forged in the raging flames of hell,

the lady death awaits her bell.

To awaken her from endless slumber,

into the night from eternal somber.

Release the hell forced hounds,

as her piercing eyes bear down,

upon the disgusting display of the human race.

Looking into shattered mirrors at ones deadly face.

Strike now with her blade,

shrieking to pierce raw open flesh.

Lucifer is no match for Lady Death.

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assembly line

standing in line, single filed.

on a solitary platform stands the majority

until they decide

to move them up or to cast them below

the common criminals assume the role.



they're moving them all down these days

underneath the skin of life, I.

while they all stand above it all



dwell on who i was, not who i am right now

it's everything about this world i'll never stand for

sometimes keeping it to myself, other times letting them feed off of me

but i'm too afraid to stand above this, not here and now



sometimes i feel above it, other times buried by it, unable to escape

but one day is the day i destroy it, the day i cast all of this down

sometimes i crawl, other times i've fallen, but today i shall stand above you



i never promised you anything

just like you've never given me anything, except for what i've never needed

right now i don't need you, you're just like everyone else, aren't you?



death is just something worth living for

life is just something worth dying for

but why live when you're already dead?

and why die if you don't want to live again?

death kills all concept of life, and life is nearing closer to death.



i'll never forgive you, even after all of this.

There’s got to be someone left now I’m gone

you'll have to find somebody else now.

and the cycle goes on and on, nobody forgets.

never reaching an end, until the earth fades.

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clouded darkness (00001110)

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They are in here.

clouded darkness

drawing near

eating the poison

ancient tear



fighting the harness

of eternal suffice

failing to hear

echoing delight



calling on the Puritan’s spell

ending life of those from hell

pass on into the light

enter the life - loss hope of night ignite.

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Happily Ever After (Disney-fied version)

Many a tale you were told when young.

Most likely, you’ve heard them in books, in movies, on stage or sung.

But in verse are the undertones of these tales best expressed.

So listen as their themes to you are addressed.



Cinderella had faith in her fairy god-mother’s magic.

She met Prince Charming at the ball,

Which, for her envious step-sisters, was tragic.

Cinderella possessed invincible charm.

On feet clad in glass slippers

She strolls with the prince, Linked arm in arm.

At midnight the spell was broken.

One slipper was left behind;

The reason for her departure unspoken.

But by that slipper was she found.

Then was the cue for the wedding bells to sound.



Snow White was practical.

She knew how to keep house.

She befriended some dwarves

Her house-keeping skills to them she would espouse.

In return for her help,

Snow White was kept safe from a vain queen behind their doors.

After having bitten a poison apple from the queen,

Snow White was rescued by a steadfast prince

After a long slumber serene.



Aurora was a dreamer,

Hidden from her royal life.

Her family feared the curse of a malevolent fairy.

Yet she fell in love with a prince

Who, through much toil and strife,

He awakened her from her enchanted sleep with a kiss.



Belle was not your typical girl-next-door.

She loved to read of far off places;

She thought her town a bore.

She boldly dealt with a narcissistic gent,

Only to later take her father’s place in the castle

Of a beast with no relent.

Belle and the beast soon grew fond of each other,

But Belle’s arrogant admirer attempted to kill the beast.

The beast fought Gaston bravely

With Belle’s love to pull him through, to say the least.

Then the spell was history,

And the beast’s human identity was no longer a mystery.



Ariel wanted adventure-

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just from sheer boredom and a lifelong appreciation for the enduring magic and cultural influence of the fairy tale.

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