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The Lay of Maranwe

Folder: 
Tales and Fables

Once upon a time, long ago,

enfurled in a land in which did flow

rivers of enormous size,

through great wolds and over the rise

of a cliff, grand and mystique,

on a mountain of which whose peak

looked out over the cold, cold sea

the mistress of sailors, the love of the free.

The sea! The sea! Oh, the sea.

Twas the sea that called Maranwe

to his wrack so long ago

when the sea swelled with melted snow.

 

He was born of the eldest son

of kingly sires who one-by-one

had met the sea and so did yearn

for it, waiving the sun's bright burn

and descended into the shadowy deep

never to rise, forever to sleep.

Doom, his father tried to avoid

for the sake of the son in which he enjoyed,

but strong was the blood that ran through his vein

and quick was he to find his own bane

at the cold hands of the death-thirsty sea,

never to rise, nevermore to be free.

 

Maranwe's bold life began that day

that his father died, and he was sped away

deep into the wold, far from the sea,

so that the bale of his forefathers may not be

his weird, and his mother bade

him loath the sea, upon which was laid

the curse of his fathers and of his kin,

and to love no more the mortal men -

men who were easily swayed by the sea

until they should die, no more to be.

He was then placed into an elf's care

until the house he no longer could share,

and so ran away into deep shaws,

away from men and his mother's laws.

 

A great hunter he soon came to be, 

under no law, forever free,

until the day he found his weird

in an old man with a gray beard

who stood in the way

on the dawn of that fateful day. 

A teacher the man claimed to be

and taught Maranwe sigaldry

of fiery magic with weildy blade

and when they were finished, he again bade

Maranwe to reject the sea

that the bane of his fathers may not be

the weird of a hero so noble and blest

but Maranwe grew wrathful and lay down to rest

the old man who had once been his friend

but the old man, while trying to fend

him off cried “Beware the sea my friend!

For the sea mews lonely cry can rend

a man to long for the sea's dark gray

to find his weird and prove him fey.”

But Maranwe did not heed his words

and under the sight of carrion birds

slew his friend and mentor true

but fearing the wrath of the gods, he flew.

On waking again he was alone

and running away, his face shone

with the sheen of one already fey

so his doom was full-sealed that day.

 

After untold travail, and finally ruth,

Maranwe decided to live forsooth

and bated by the cold freshets and frith 

chose to rid the world of the myth

of the resident naiad who lived in the river.

So taking up his sword, bow, and quiver,

he went to find her, to clear his name

and possibly take from him the bane 

of his forefathers, now almost forgotten

dead on the sea floor, blind and rotten.

But the nymph was know for creating bliss

and in the men stirred wantonness

and by keeping their attention all day 

their farms had all faded away.

 

So on went Maranwe to trap the poor girl,

first to capture, then to hurl

her out of the shaw, to trouble no more

the farmers and peasants who lived by the shore 

of her cool river which led out to the sea,

and then perhaps he would be free

of the bane of his house and the dirt of his name.

For his name ever brought to him shame

for 'Maranwe' means destiny in elvish they say,

and so he looked for her day after day,

to change his weird and live in bliss

and never again his name would miss.

 

He sought her through forest and fountain, glade and glen,

until he finally found her, but then

he stayed his hand and was entranced

by this beautiful nymph who danced

upon the green shore of her river home

far from the cold sea's frothy foam.

And while he stared, he caught her eye,

and her eyes appeared bluer than the bluest sky,

deeper than the ocean floor,

more precious to him than a diamond's core.

But away she swam, with him in pursuit

till they came to the river's root 

and then he stopped and cried to her

for like a fish, he had taken the lure.

She then looked back at the haggard man,

then into the forest she quickly ran

but the forest was Maranwe's home

the place where he always loved to roam.

 

After two days, she began to tire

and deep within her kindled a fire

for this man, so brave and wild

this incarnation of forest child.

And so she turned and welcomed him

the only child of mortal men

who had gained her love, though wild and fey,

her heart, he had finally captured that day.

And so they lived long, through sorrow and bliss 

until the sea claimed her, and then her he did miss

and followed to the edge of that sea

wishing that with her he would again be.

 

Walking the shore, looking out towards the sea

he was met by a very strange company

of men, and the friend who he killed long ago

ethereal spirits, alive but lo!

Maranwe's old friend had turned his head

and looking straight at him, he said,

“Beware, beware of the sea my friend! 

For the sea mews lonely cry can rend

a man to long for the sea's dark gray

to find his weird and prove himself fey.

For these, my friends who surround me yet

were once kings of old, men who let 

their desires fall to the cold, cold sea,

never to die, nevermore free.'

“Your forefathers these are, who I warned long ago,

I gave them each good counsel but lo!

They did not listen, and they became fey 

when they ignored my counsel the very first day.”

 

And Maranwe foreseeing his doom draw near,

ran from that place in bloodcurdling fear

that his doom may yet be completed that day

and that his life would soon fade away. 

So he ran up the shore, back to the stream

but coming upon it, he saw a small gleam

and turning to see from whence it came

saw only the spirit of that once-loved dame

and crying aloud, he wept bitter tears

and afraid of the drawing of his years

to a close, he ran back to the sea

as if able to confront his enemy,

but all he found was the calm sea and shore,

the ethereal spirits he saw no more.                                                                                                                                                                                 

 

For years after he lived by the sea

for in his heart he never was free

from the love of the nymph, whom he had loved dear

and filled with this love, he set away fear

and constructed a plan to sail the cold sea

to find his maid, and set her free

from the death-enveloping sea

and nevermore a thrall would she be.

But at the shore awaited his fate,

for although in his life it came late,

doom overcomes all that it calls,

and it caught Maranwe at the falls

of the great rivers that empty into the sea

at the edge of the lands of the free.

For as he approached, he heard the crying mews

and the battle of fate he knew he would lose

but nevertheless to the sea he went out

and stepping onto the shore with a shout

he cried “The sea! The sea! Oh the sea,

know that you do not own my destiny.

For I have lived long years without count

with the woman I loved, and at her fount

I lived like no man ever lived before,

and now gladly I come unto death's door.”

 

Then forsaking his life, and the sun's bright burn

to find his love for which he did yearn,

he descended into the shadowy deep

never to rise, forever to sleep.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Dated NOV25, 2009

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An Armchair Theologian

I believe! I Believe! Lord, help my unbelief

I believe, I believe, my constant motif

I believe but don't grow

And my faith doesn't show

Because I can't be bothered to “do”

 

I know faith is given, not earned

Yet here I sit unconcerned 

I'm given to resting 

When I should be testing

To see that my faith is real

 

“You shall know them by their fruits”

But seeds planted on stones don't have roots

My apathy grows

So nobody knows

That I don't follow what I believe

 

The path down below is a slope

So gradual and smooth that you hope

It stays just the same

Like a current so tame

But leads to a waterfall

 

I'm not living, or learning

I'm sitting and burning

Lord I want to live

But not if I give

My time or my life

My comfort for strife

Is there an easier way?

 

You said believe and I shall be clean

Believe, and come home again

But how can I start

If only my heart

Wasn't an armchair theologian

Southern Gothic

Folder: 
Tales and Fables

I can't tell where I'm going

Don't know where I've been

But I feel I'm moving quickly

And I guess that's all there is

 

I've gone round in my head

Side to side within

Reason had too much sense

Foolishness left me behind

Walking to a dirt-road crossroad

Guess I'll say hello

 

Whiskey from the heavens

Daniels in my veins

Traveling to hell on that southern gothic train

Baptized my humanity in the river

Left my soul with the morning star

Guess I've lost it all

 

They say that those with nothing left

Have nothing left to lose

Well hell, I'm far past that

With no future, and no past

Don't mess with me, son

Or my face will be your last

 

Whiskey's long gone now

But the moon's still shining bright

And there's heaven to gain

But hell to pay

The brass is still warm

But I'm cold as the grave

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Existence

I lay in dark and dreaming sleep
While countless wars and ages passed
While lovers lost and children died
The cycle ran until, aghast 
I opened my eyes, so I should see 
And learn from this unending past
That life is short, though days are long
And that we were never meant to last.
 
I woke to noise and screaming life
But death was ever found to be
Within the dissonance of voice
Born in children, grown in me
I ran until I fell alone
But decease, like a fey banshee
Moved silently in my shadowed steps
With no intent to set me free
 
I dozed through my own middle life
I couldn't care to breathe or die
To see my friends or family
Would just admit that I'm alive
I felt like life would canter on
Meaningless, though I'd strive
To fight the caress of lover-death
To hope my wonder would revive
 
I slept tonight a wondrous sleep
Of moon and star and sunlit eyes
From my bed, I heard her creep
And then I found to my surprise
An angel of unending rest
With promises to mesmerize 
I gave her my own soul to reap
No more left to agonize 
Author's Notes/Comments: 

I liked the first two lines enough to compose another poem

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Fears

Why do I cry alone at night

With tears of joy or pain

Or tend to sigh in loneliness

Dress guilt just like a chain?

Why weigh myself with tension

And bank on fear and stress

When I could rise or fail myself

By giving it my best?

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

It was a loooonnnnngggg thought train away from Tears for Fears. 

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A cry

Why does it hurt so bad
Why do i cry so much
Emotions keep spinning around
Headaches every day.
why does it hurt so bad
just wanting to be alone,alone feels peaceful
stop stop stop
what is wrong with me?
what is hurting me so much?
dragging me down running out my energy.
writing this poem right now is hard
the headache, the pain.
but still its like I'm wearing a mask no one can see how much.......
I'm falling.

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tags:

Vale of Life

I walk through the forest of my haunted past,
Not knowing whether to turn or be stead-fast.
My heart cries out in the darkness of my shattered mind,
Crying for that which I desperately seek to be mine.
I glance at the path I’ve traveled in these long and dismal times
And see there my broken and shattered heart lie.
I have had none in my arms ever to cause such pain,
But this pain comes from watching love go away.
Seeing my love with someone for whom they are poisoned by,
Crying out to save you from then, but all you do is stare and then.
You vanish in the blackness that my eyes may only see,
You standing there in all this confusion which I long to be,
Long to be a part of something to give me just a little glee.
For throughout my life no light was there,
Not one little light as warm or as cold as yours.
For with you I am happy,
Happier than a pure dream.
But without you I am dying,
Fallen Dead face first in amidst the smiting.
So I cry for my loss, as well as your own demise,
But I know that you are blinded, by a lover has-been.
You cling for you fear no one else will love you,
But you are wrong you see.
For I love your laugh, your smile, and even your quiet cry.
I love you for being you, and not just for your falls.
I bring with me an ember, an ember with which I see,
All that you could be, with or without me.
But as you sit with the poison, you accomplish nothing as he wants
Sitting, wasting in your silence, as I cry out from the mist.
If only you would know this, and come and sit with me.
Maybe then we could be, all we’re meant to be.

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