|
Posted on 10/17/2005 9:03:55 PM PDT by Soaring Feather
|
And a Happy New Year to you and yours.
If I could write a sonnet, would it say
full half of what my heart has in it now?
Some special word to brighten up your way,
To weave a web of dreams if you allow
Would make my moment happier by far
And let me start the New Year with a smile.
But how this moment seems askew, ajar,
with business left to do all in a pile.
And so I'll leave good hopes for one and all -
And later will I come with poesy's call.
New Years Eve, 2005
a touch of flowers,
clean and warm scenting the air,
HopeandGlory's Thyme!
Were I ever so clever
as to write a poem
clear, a poem so strong
with meaning it would sing
in my lovers ear...
Were I ever so clever
to pen this magical lyric
to lay a down star dust cover
a top the rime.
Were I ever so clever.
bentfeather
12/31/05
Clever as a feather
drifting soft on starlight wings,
word to image dancing,
now lost in faery rings,
What word have you to sing tonight
as old year turns to new?
What memories will spin inside,
some happy, some to rue?
Clever as a feather
drifting soft on starlight wings,
the old year is coming home to rest,
the new year gently sings,
of tomorrows we will cherish,
of hopes we long to bring
into the break of morning light
beyond the faery ring.
12/31/05
|
bentfeather
12/31/05
I have been playing midis of O Fortuna (from the Carmina Burana), and explaining the Rota Fortuna (wheel of fortune) in medieval imagery to my hubby. Seemed moderately, if not exactly, appropriate for the changing of the year:
O Fortuna,
velut Luna
statu variabilis,
semper crescis
aut decrescis;
vita detestabilis
nunc obdurat
et tunc curat
ludo mentis aciem;
egestatem,
potestatem,
dissolvit ut glaciem.
Sors immanis
et inanis,
rota tu volubilis,
status malus,
vana salus
semper dissolubilis;
obumbrata
et velata
mihi quoque niteris;
nunc per ludum
dorsum nudum
fero tui sceleris.
Sors salutis
et virtutis
mihi nunc contraria;
est affectus
et defectus
semper in angaria.
hac in hora
sine mora
cordae pulsum tangite!
quod per sortem
sternit fortem,
mecum omnes plangite!
O Fortune, like the moon of ever changing state, you are always waxing or waning; hateful life now is brutal, now pampers our feelings with its game; poverty, power, it melts them like ice.
Fate, savage and empty, you are a turning wheel, your position is uncertain, your favour is idle and always likely to disappear; covered in shadows and veiled you bear upon me too; now my back is naked through the sport of your wickedness.
The chance of prosperity and of virtue is not now mine; whether willing or not, a man is always liable for Fortune's service. At this hour without delay touch the strings! Because through luck she lays low the brave, all join with me in lamentation!
Great flash movie of it is out there, too:
http://www.theflasharchive.com/f/f-278.htm
Most interesting. I will watch the video, thanks.
I so much enjoy your poetry. Countyline did good bringing your work over.
The king of Elfland had a daughter,
Dark and flashing were her eyes,
Once a mortal deigned to love her,
a story told with pain, and sighs.
The Queen of Elfland had a squire,
bright and saucy was this wight,
til Tam Lin, he met fair Janet
and left Faery with little fight.
Thomas the Rhymer rode to Elfand
on a steed of milk-white rare,
never more to tell a fable
when he returned mortal air.
Stay away from faery dancing,
Stay away from the faery ring
Else you'll find a mickle sadness
That comes when listening to how they sing.
(this would have been longer, but we're havinga thunderstorm...)
I like words,
and words like me!
On gossamer wings
of irridescent light
the dragonfly dances tonight
with a dream and a daring
of hope to be sharing,
he flies boldly into our sight.
Dragonfly, dragonfly,
don't fly away home,
on wings shining and pure,
we would travel and roam,
exploring tomorrow
beneath a bright sky,
o may we borrow your wings,
o bright dragonfly?
Ooooo, wonderful.
The Price of Magic
The wind sings sweet around the faery ring,
under stars as old as time, yet do they shine.
on such a night a mortal man did cross the line,
and listening to the songs of faery, he did sing.
Subtle is the magic upon that emerald isle,
and he felt not the change, even as he did.
It touched him then and with inhibit rid,
he joined in the dancing round the ring awhile.
Drinking of the old potsheen offered with easy grace,
he saw an ageless wonder in each ruddy smiling face.
King Brian was in fine form, dressed up in dainty lace,
sat his horse in handsome style as off they all did race.
first light came ‘tween dawn and dusk, he awakened at last,
and staggered down the hill and the day of things to do.
Yet all that day his mind played many a trick to rue,
he ached to go back, but the way was barred forever fast.
Long he sought the doorway, and in the end left in pain,
for heartaches would follow him, the price of crossing in.
On long nights he sits and listens amid the city’s din,
and tries to hear a faery flute, somewhere in the rain.
Stay off the mounds and leave the ruins to the wee folk,
and listen not to the sweet songs, or have a lively dance
Or your soul’ll always feel the hooves of the Pooka prance,
and you will know the emptiness of their thoughtless joke.
Most don’t understand the sadness in his eyes each night,
or the longing in his heart, for a time now truly in the past.
But I do, and I watch him walk away, either slow nor fast,
thinking of faery aglow, beneath a silver summer’s moonlight.
*The king of Elfland had a daughter,*
Thunderstorm be darned
the fairy dance goes on!!
To be continued when the storm ends. ;)
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.
