Runt
Well-Known Member
The Last Left To Mourn (entered in a scholarship contest)
Alone where countless fates were bound
upon the weary, war-trod ground
to fear enmeshed with last breath's hiss
and grief entwined with Death's chill kiss,
a sword upon which deaths amassed
sheds crimson tears for those whove passed.
And neath this blade the blood does pool,
aye, lives of men do flood and cool!
And all because of hate so vast,
that not a single life could last!
Now who to blame, when none are left,
when all lie still, of life bereft?
I shattered that cruel bloody blade
pon which so many deaths were made!
Twas that or cry I screamed and raged,
for in My name a war was waged,
and on the field, the price all shared
was to perish while I despaired!
Clatsop Chinook (written for school)
Where nothing dwelled but foam-topped sea,
there lay Gotat land.
And to this place Coyote came
to release a bit of sand.
Sand to make a prairie fair,
sand for hare and sand for man,
sand for clan and wandring beast,
sand stretching east, that was his plan.
To witness births of newborn creeks,
to Niakhaqshe Coyote went,
and in this place Coyote hungered,
and iron for a spear he bent.
The fish he caught were very good,
or fair should have been to him,
but on a whim Coyote threw
away a few from the nearby rim.
Silverside salmon were dear to him;
steelhead and fall salmon he favored not;
the small creek boded ill omens,
and so to man these laws he taught:
When salmon are caught one will die;
a guy perishes when male steelheads are found;
a womans death mound when a female is killed,
all when a skilled fishermans fish are drowned.
To his hut he took his fish,
and gutted them straight through.
And then he went and cooked them up,
and ate them in a stew.
The next day Coyote went to the creek,
and from a peak he searched for fish
to grace his dish that autumn night,
but to his sight barren was his wish!
Coyote summoned Wisest Filth, his friend,
and his council he did seek.
Fairest Filth, Coyote entreated,
Why are no fish in the creek?
Four lessons Coyotes filth did teach,
about how to reach a desired end,
and then send Coyote out he did,
to bid his luck and his ways to men.
Until youre ready to cook them,
silversides must not be cut up,
and when you go to cook them,
you must roast, not steam them up.
And not only must you roast them
but you must roast them in itsy bits.
head, back, roe, and body are cooked separately,
over four completely different spits.
Furthermore, you must cook it all
before you go to sleep,
for if you fail to do this,
then its fish the stream will keep.
Take care to obey this final rule
when fishing with a net:
make sure the salmon dont leap over it,
or no fish will you get!
Wheel of the Year (written when I was pagan)
When icy winters clutch has stunted each bare bough,
And breathless moonlight frosts the snow-heavy sky;
When the Horned Hunter and Holly King reign as one,
Then we faeries know Yule has finally come by.
Boughs of holly and ivy dress our circle fair,
And the Yule log is lit to entice the suns return.
We sit roasting nuts over the open fire,
As we watch the Wheel of the Year candles burn.
When the newborn sun climbs weakly into heaven,
And sticky sap rises in every maple tree;
When the spring constellation sits in winters sky,
Then Imbolc has finally arrived for all to see.
We hang braided Brigids Crosses upon the wall,
So She will keep the hearth fires burning til spring.
The Corn Bride is made of the last harvests first sheaves,
And laid in a corn bed inside our faery ring.
When the suns strength has not yet begun to fade,
And flowers blanket the fields after Aprils rains;
When songs of birds once again echo through the leaves,
Then our Queen of May has brought Beltaine.
We weave red and white ribbons about the maypole,
And all dancers wear green to honor Belenos might.
Others leap gaily over fires dotting the hillsides,
Chanting, Hail unto Thee from the abodes of the night.
When the fields are golden with Ceres tender touch,
And the cornbread dribbles with the honey of the bee;
When the Wort Moon rises with the August dawning,
Then Lughnasadh has arrived, as all can see.
Demeters generous bounty shall feed us all,
When our fields are threshed and bread baked with care.
Then round the blazing bonfires we weave,
Corn yellow flowers tucked in every maidens hair.
When the Blood Moon grows bloated in October skies,
And the veil between the worlds has worn shear and thin;
When turnips and pumpkins are at their ripest,
Then the day of Samhain has arrived once again.
Jack-o-lanterns mark the circles boundary,
And candles penetrate the dark shroud of night.
We say our final goodbyes to the dying sun,
Knowing He will return after the long Yule twilight.
Alone where countless fates were bound
upon the weary, war-trod ground
to fear enmeshed with last breath's hiss
and grief entwined with Death's chill kiss,
a sword upon which deaths amassed
sheds crimson tears for those whove passed.
And neath this blade the blood does pool,
aye, lives of men do flood and cool!
And all because of hate so vast,
that not a single life could last!
Now who to blame, when none are left,
when all lie still, of life bereft?
I shattered that cruel bloody blade
pon which so many deaths were made!
Twas that or cry I screamed and raged,
for in My name a war was waged,
and on the field, the price all shared
was to perish while I despaired!
Clatsop Chinook (written for school)
Where nothing dwelled but foam-topped sea,
there lay Gotat land.
And to this place Coyote came
to release a bit of sand.
Sand to make a prairie fair,
sand for hare and sand for man,
sand for clan and wandring beast,
sand stretching east, that was his plan.
To witness births of newborn creeks,
to Niakhaqshe Coyote went,
and in this place Coyote hungered,
and iron for a spear he bent.
The fish he caught were very good,
or fair should have been to him,
but on a whim Coyote threw
away a few from the nearby rim.
Silverside salmon were dear to him;
steelhead and fall salmon he favored not;
the small creek boded ill omens,
and so to man these laws he taught:
When salmon are caught one will die;
a guy perishes when male steelheads are found;
a womans death mound when a female is killed,
all when a skilled fishermans fish are drowned.
To his hut he took his fish,
and gutted them straight through.
And then he went and cooked them up,
and ate them in a stew.
The next day Coyote went to the creek,
and from a peak he searched for fish
to grace his dish that autumn night,
but to his sight barren was his wish!
Coyote summoned Wisest Filth, his friend,
and his council he did seek.
Fairest Filth, Coyote entreated,
Why are no fish in the creek?
Four lessons Coyotes filth did teach,
about how to reach a desired end,
and then send Coyote out he did,
to bid his luck and his ways to men.
Until youre ready to cook them,
silversides must not be cut up,
and when you go to cook them,
you must roast, not steam them up.
And not only must you roast them
but you must roast them in itsy bits.
head, back, roe, and body are cooked separately,
over four completely different spits.
Furthermore, you must cook it all
before you go to sleep,
for if you fail to do this,
then its fish the stream will keep.
Take care to obey this final rule
when fishing with a net:
make sure the salmon dont leap over it,
or no fish will you get!
Wheel of the Year (written when I was pagan)
When icy winters clutch has stunted each bare bough,
And breathless moonlight frosts the snow-heavy sky;
When the Horned Hunter and Holly King reign as one,
Then we faeries know Yule has finally come by.
Boughs of holly and ivy dress our circle fair,
And the Yule log is lit to entice the suns return.
We sit roasting nuts over the open fire,
As we watch the Wheel of the Year candles burn.
When the newborn sun climbs weakly into heaven,
And sticky sap rises in every maple tree;
When the spring constellation sits in winters sky,
Then Imbolc has finally arrived for all to see.
We hang braided Brigids Crosses upon the wall,
So She will keep the hearth fires burning til spring.
The Corn Bride is made of the last harvests first sheaves,
And laid in a corn bed inside our faery ring.
When the suns strength has not yet begun to fade,
And flowers blanket the fields after Aprils rains;
When songs of birds once again echo through the leaves,
Then our Queen of May has brought Beltaine.
We weave red and white ribbons about the maypole,
And all dancers wear green to honor Belenos might.
Others leap gaily over fires dotting the hillsides,
Chanting, Hail unto Thee from the abodes of the night.
When the fields are golden with Ceres tender touch,
And the cornbread dribbles with the honey of the bee;
When the Wort Moon rises with the August dawning,
Then Lughnasadh has arrived, as all can see.
Demeters generous bounty shall feed us all,
When our fields are threshed and bread baked with care.
Then round the blazing bonfires we weave,
Corn yellow flowers tucked in every maidens hair.
When the Blood Moon grows bloated in October skies,
And the veil between the worlds has worn shear and thin;
When turnips and pumpkins are at their ripest,
Then the day of Samhain has arrived once again.
Jack-o-lanterns mark the circles boundary,
And candles penetrate the dark shroud of night.
We say our final goodbyes to the dying sun,
Knowing He will return after the long Yule twilight.
