First meeting of the most wicked King of Mithar
Thank you for taking the time to visit; enjoy the posts...
The Prophetess Aerie
The Calling of Aerie
The Oath
When his son turned seven years old, Nadan told Kyon, “Son,
people will kill me one day.”
The boy looked at
him and said, “No father do not say that.”
Nadan continued, “I
tell you this so that when it happens you will understand and not be caught off
guard. But they will and I wanted you to
know that no matter what happens, I love you and am very proud of you my son.”
His son assured
him, “I know. Gratitude father; but, why
would someone want to kill you?”
Smiling, Nadan
answered as best he could, “Some people are afraid. They only react from fear and not
understanding. They fear change. Instead of love, compassion and understanding
some reach out to hurt others they are afraid of getting to know. The more you grow up the more changes are
asked of you. When you love others there
is less of you and more of them.”
“I will father, and
they shall be humbled to tears and made to realize they were wrong.” Kyon
answered.
Exactly a year
later to the very day Nadan was killed at the Oasis of Orid. As Kyon lay beside his father’s body, he
remembered his words. Kyon stopped his
crying and stood up. Facing the priest,
with his father’s blood still dripping from his unsheathed sword, he said “I am
Kyon the son of Nadan, and I forgive you.
I am sad to see that you have not grown up, and everything you think you
know about God; are not the lessons he wanted you to learn. You may leave now that I may bury my father
for your deed is done, and there is no one left for you to kill.”
The priest and the four Tower guards were
astounded by the boy’s reaction. They
left in silence. Moments later the crowd
that had gathered about and watched everything departed as well. Afterwards, Kyon said, “Gratitude, Corlan
but I shall do this task alone.” With
that he dug a deep hole in the desert sand and buried his father by himself as
Corlan, his father’s man servant looked on and cried for his loss. For he knew Kyon would never cry again; and
for an entire year nor did he speak a word.
...
THE LONGEST CAPTIVE
MORNEL
Rarely have the prisoners of Varlendur been
given mention for they were the harshest example of the Mitharian King’s
authority. The duality of both powers:
Kings and Priest merged in the shadow of the city’s once grandest
lighthouse. Known far and wide for its
mystics and justice it became a feared forced to engage. Yet, it was the
Priesthood and their secret rites that captured the most imagination and
attention of the people and in time even those became more elite and elusive in
their teachings before the people.
Through the years the dungeon of Varlendur
took on more prisoners. Five was the
most housed at one time. By the time of the sixth king twenty seven had already
called The Tower their personal residence.
Arabraken the Mordorian was killed in trying
to escape which quelled any further attempts. Brandon Aladreth was held for the
shortest amount of time, just nine days and was released. Mornel Vanderqin was held the longest for
nearly seventeen years.
This is his tale.
Another fat brown-haired rat scurried along
the base of the smooth stone wall. The
two torches at either end of the unseen hallway flowed in through the barred
window of the jail cell's oaken door. Sandaled
steps approached. Keys clattered about.
The lock tumbled. From the flooding
burst of light there came thrusting into the small chamber, from blackened
silhouettes, a scruffy bearded young man.
Wearing but tattered cloths immersed in the rank smell of sweat the new
comer was a vagrant for sure.
Eirwe, the head of the tower guards opened
the cell door directing the new comer inside.
Smiling, he said, “I have been summoned by the king, old friend. I shall be back shortly. Enjoy your new company.” No reply came as the flood of light revealed
an old man being a large rat.
“So what are you in here for?” The new comer
asked his sudden companion.
Silence.
He was impatient.
“No tongue to speak with?” His question came with
a bite.
Silence.
“My name is Craven. Well seems the likes of me was bound to get
caught-” His offered introduction was
cut short upon seeing the old man feeding the largest of the rats climbing on
his lap.
“Yes, just a matter of time I suppose.” He
finished as the man before him gave the last crumbs of his meal away to the
rodent.
“So, how often do they feed us in here?”
No reply came as the balding man just sat
there petting another rat, smaller than the first.
He sighed in frustration at not getting
answers. “How long have you been here old man?”
Still the quiet man sat amid his pets.
“How have long they kept you locked away
down here to go crazy, I wonder?” It had only been moments since his arrival
and it was promising to be a long stay.
“Did you kill someone?” Craven’s question
almost sounded like a demand to know something, anything at this point.
Getting nowhere, the new comer confessed;
they always confess. “Two years ago I…I
was enjoying the company of a young lady.
Very lovely thing she was. Then
when her husband came home and found us together I tried my best to get out of
there.” Craven paused and slowly began
again, “There was no ill will, just escape in mind. He came at me and I brushed him aside. But when he began hitting the girl, I – I was
outraged and pulled him away. His head
was hit and he died. I knew she loved
him more than me and that understandable.
But we – well, I had to get out of there. So I ran.”
Looking at the old man, feeding the rat as if he was not listening, made
Craven continue. “Well, I ran. I left Dorshan and came to Uruk. Before I knew it the authorities were
searching for me. I was told Mithar was
a Sanctuary city. At a tavern in Uruk a
man told me his troubles and did he have them.
I told him mine and he said since I was already running he would pay me
six gold coins to kill someone. I
did. The times were hard old man and I
needed the money to eat. I did not learn
till later the ‘three’ someone’s were officials themselves. But the deed was done. I had become a murder for hire it seemed.” Looking out the barred door he said, “So then
I headed to Sinjar and happened upon another bounty man. I could tell this one was some official himself
but he was looking to hire not apprehend.
He said he would take me before the King himself unless –“The old man
only petted the rats as several had gathered around him. Craven continued, “It was a boy. He did not tell me at the time I was to kill
a child. But in my situation and under
threat, what could I do old man? I went
to the Oasis of Orid and waited. Thirty
pieces of silver was good coin to have along with freedom.” The old man exhaled as the rats left him with
no more bread. Talking into the darkness
the talkative new comer finished, “Some boy named Kyon, he who was purported to be a witch or something. I cut his throat in
the night as he slept. Then I ran to
Mithar, seeking it as the Sanctuary city.
Questioned by some priests, I told them what I have just told you. Then, the humorous part was when the king told
me that Sinjar was the Sanctuary city and not Mithar. With a smile he added I was to be hanged
tomorrow in the square.”
Finally, after all but one of the rats left,
the old man spoke, “Mornel. I am Mornel
Vanderqin of Mithar’s eastern gate. For
sixteen years, seven months, twenty-three days and nine hours have
Varlendur’s guards shown me their
hospitality.”
“Goodness man,” Gasped Craven aloud!
Ignoring the young man’s dismay, Mornel
continued, “It was long ago, and for the sake of love that found me here.”
Interrupting what sounded like the
beginnings of a long story, Craven whispered, “Knew a jealous husband had to figure
in somewhere.”
The old man continued, brushing off the
comment of the impatient youth, he began, “A long time ago, now that I actually
recall those days. We were going to live
forever.
My best friend Balinthane Silmeth and I were
inseparable. We had been co-conspirators
of embracing the moment and exploring all the taboos of the world that our
parents abhorred. We were young and fearless in those by-gone days. We finished
the thoughts of the other and inspired the others imaginations with insights. We loved learning as much as we did adventure.
Yet in time his seemed to lead into more trouble than my own had the courage
for. I envied Balinthane greatly for such ventures into the Lore of Lindol and
the secret paths of her Priestesses yet. In time we grew apart and children
become men.
He was always in my thoughts and the biggest
influence upon my thoughts. We corresponded by currieries and even then our
brotherly bonds grew firm. Then there came a brief season when our paths
crossed again in person.
Balinthane
hesitantly handed his friend poignant words, "My father received your
letter instead of me. I had gone to into town and missed the messenger."
Mornel caught
the tone, knowing his cared for his aging father, "I am sorry he has been
so ill as of late. - Oh - THE letter..." Then suddenly catching the full
meaning of Balinthan’s word s added, "HE READ IT?"
"He read it." Balinthane
Mornel: "I am forever sorry my friend."
Sincerely hoping the reminder of their status was not fully crushed by the
secret revelations of passed deeds.
Balinthane: "So am I. But, he is my father and must
come first."
The next day we had cut off all ties with
one another for a very long time. Our
open friendship before the eyes of his father had been severed. I freely
accepted the banishment from brother’s love so as not to hinder the bond of
father and son. In accepting that
role of instigator in the grave mischief that had occurred I knew wrath would
soon find me. The local authorities came upon me and from the Lord Magistrate
was I imprisoned within the very walls of Varlendur itself.
The guard, Eirwe
returned. “You are being released.”
Stunned for a moment the old man gave no indication of
change.
Carven repeated the guard’s words, “Mornel, you are a
free man, you can leave.”
“He must have been here too long, afraid of leaving I
suppose.”
Seeing the last
of his rats trail away the old man smiled at the guard who held the door open
for him and looked longingly with a deep smile, “Thank you, for all your
kindness.” The guard seemed to a smirk in return.
Carven asked,
“Where will you go? What will you do after having wasted all your time here?”
Turning about he
answered slowly. “What I have always done.
Live.” Then added, pointing to a rat standing on its hind legs begging
to be picked up. Mornel did not comply
this time but added, “The rats taught me tenacity as they and time shall teach
you. Good bye.”
Upon leaving the
Grey Tower's massive front doors the newly released prisoner saw his old
childhood friend standing at the bottom of the steep stair. He had waited all
those years later to see him, though they spoke seldom and never of the old
grievance. He stood there all alone.
With each step the old man took toward the bottom ancient
memories began to flood his thoughts. Memories before the rats, the beatings
and the engulfing darkness flooded his mind. Finally many years later they came
face to face. The old childhood friend's face was streamed with tears and a
trembling chin. Yet all the newly freed man could say was, "I am so very
sorry for the loss of your father, he was a great man."
INTRODUCTION TWR
In a post middle
earth world, a remnant of the elves stayed behind. In doing so they developed a cultic history where
idealist doctrines centered themselves as divine teachers. Beginning with a boxed-scroll, the Watcher’s
personal stories and later histories; these collected works became their sacred
Scriptures. The Keepers were called: The
Order of the Red Brotherhood. Their
WATCHER’S BOOK and its forgotten religion witnessed the coming, not only of
Noah’s Flood but the end of The Nephilim Age as well.
................................................................................
The Last Days of Kyon
When Kyon, the son of Nadan turned twelve years of age he revisited the Oasis of Orid on the anniversary of his father’s passing. By now a small gathering of tent dwellers resided and many travelers passed that way. Before the polished flat-faced stone he called to the people, “Is it not... ot the way
BEYOND US
God is real or we are not
Illuva thought of
us long before;
We were a song inspired in love,
a concept of
purpose and joy.
He imagined the beginning of us
before the end was
even a dream;
Our gloom and darkest fears are but
a smile – that we
should understand.
Gracious beyond mercy, love beyond joy,
and comfort when we
are hopeless.
...
THE ORDER
North winds blow bears and cold,
from the Iron Hills
of broken stones.
In the east are realms forgotten,
with deeds now
called ancient history.
To the south are the haunted woods,
and mountains halls
of dwarves.
Beyond the western rim of the world,
are the Undying
Lands upon the sea.
But here the Tower arises Godward,
and his Brotherhood
holds Order.
...
Linking it all together...
THE WATCHER'S BOOK is really the bible and backdrop/background for my characters to live.
...
Shay
There was a poor
farmer just outside the walls of the towered city name Shay. One day Shay told
his wife, Anya he was going to market for more supplies. Walking with stick in
hand Shay journeyed down the wall-stone road from Mithar to Lindol as was his
custom. Up ahead was a single stranger. Shay thought it odd that there were no
wagons or other people on the road, but he continued even so. From time to time
the grey cloaked figure up ahead would slow down and turn to look back at Shay,
all without a greeting or sign. Having his pointed hood up, no face could be
seen.
Shay called out,
“Yo stranger, is there something wrong; something you need?” Suddenly to his
shock the cloaked man burst into flames. There was fright, no crying out or any
reaction of pain. The man kept walking down the stone road as before. Several
steps later and still he walked as if nothing had occurred. There was no
reaction from the torched man on fire.
Shay ran to the
stranger to help put out the fire. He called out, “For God’s sake man – let me
help you!”
In that moment the
roaring figure of the burning man was utterly extinguished. The only remaining
form was filled with a boiling, wisp of smoke. As the farmer approached and
stopped the once figure of a man calmly turned to face the sure footed farmer
and said, “ ‘For God’s sake”? Yes, yes you may help. Stand still oh child of
man and know before whom you are standing for it is I myself; Illuva, the One
and Always. I am that one you feared most and in a lifetime have come to know
the least. I call you, oh child of man to go and tell them who corrupt my name
they are warned!” With that the smoke was gone and the farmer all alone on the
road.
...
Mayor Kalena
[The Watcher's Book: VENDURMAR]
News came to the ear of the king one day, by
word of his cup bearer, that the people had become too many and bored with life
behind the walls. “Their excitement of
such new and different things, have made them complacent and in need of
redirection, lest they begin to find pleasure in strife and rally against you.”
Clapping his hands the king called for his
Spiritual advisor and Chef of Arms. He
shared what his cup bearer had said and agreed with his words, “Go out think on
this matter for your selves and in one hour return as to what shall be done.”
After they left Vendumar told the cup bearer
to tell the kitchen to make a meal and have four settings prepared. At the hour’s end a table had been so set as
ordered. When the Spiritual advisor and
Chef of Arms returned they saw the king being served wine by the cup bearer
beside him. Vendumar asked, “Well, speak
plainly.”
The Chef Guard, Legandriel began, “Sire, it
is true the entering people have overwhelmed Mithar, and their only intent is to
claim homes for themselves with no regards to heritage or how the provisions
came to be. They have become drunk from
the bounty, and yes sire rumors that the Watchers are less than once thought.”
Looking at Vethdema, his spiritual advisor, “What
do you say?”
Vethdema echoed the same, adding, “Sire, if
I may – a way of earning these ‘blessings’ might be devised that would
encourage more willing citizens of our original intent as teachers to the ‘lesser’
men.”
Vendumar smiled, being greatly pleased, “Understood.” Turning to his cup bearer, the king
introduced, “This man here, Kalena by name, had no fear in sharing this truth
with me. Because of that, and the
respect I have witnessed first-hand; I name you as the Mayor of Mithar. As the people reenter the city I think it
would be best to see one of their own leading them. You shall be second only to
myself. Your greatest advisors shall be
these two here. As quickly as you rose
surely may you fall; we all know this to be true. Now, come you three dine and tell me more. I am hungry for meat and your councils both.”
Slowly over the weeks a teaching school within
the tower was setup. It also was devised
that only those who attended such training were allowed to reside within the
protective walls of the city. In this
way was the city regained from the Nasil without bloodshed; and the power of the
king grew. The basic need for masons to repair the southern wall, and teaching desert dwellers how to fish came as among the first lessons to be taught. Later great houses grew out from
the tower each with a degree plan and skill.
In time the Priesthood grew stronger devising coded lessons and password
making it even more challenging to reside in Mithar Its wealth and prestige grew as well.
Kimashe and the Bleeding Stones
In the early
morning hours King Vendumar was awaken by a horrific nightmare but told no one
of its details. He called for his
Councilors: Spiritual Advisor, Chef Guard and the Mayor of Mithar. Though their conversations eased him back to
a waking state, none could tell him his dream or its meaning.
The Mayor said,
“Forgive me O King, but there is one from the Nasilian camp named Kimashe,
called a Seer by her people. It is said
that ‘she knows the unknown and can discern the yet to be’, sire.”
Vendumar replied,
“You are all good as you are but in this matter – bring her before me, but do
not breathe a word as to why. That I may
know she is true or false.”
Going out to the
tent city of Slavath, a mile from the city gate of Mithar they searched her
out. At a blue tent on the outside of
the settlement Kalena, the Mayor and two tower guards dismounted their steads
as he called out her name. From within
the tent, she called them inside. The
tent looked much grander and larger on the inside than its small outside
appearance. Many colored veils and lit
candles were everywhere, bones and feather and furs. Rising from a pillowed seat a young woman
said, “He has cried for three nights, but only this morning has he begged an
answer from you and two others. Even now
he orders me to appear for a meaning of his woe.”
“How did –,” began
Kalena?
But Kimashe replied
in haste, “We must go.” She walked as
the three others rode horseback refusing to be lifted up. Through the great statued gate, down the
cobbled stone streets to the many stairs of Varlendur they soon came before the
king in his tower.
Behind the King’s
throne the wall was a painted with a scene of the Great Departure; the boarding
of the last swan ship. For all his power
Vendumar had no understanding of his own dream. Coming before the king, Kalena introduced her,
“Sire, here is the Nasilian Seer, Kimashe by name lord.”
Kimashe stood dressed in a white hooded robe, both hands and bare feet adorned with
rings and bracelets; she was covered in tattoos. Her face was sand white, and hair black as
coal. Just as King Vendumar was about to
speak, she spoke instead, “The bleeding-eye crows have nothing better to do
than to torment you for the last three night of your sleep, and wrestle with
your thoughts in the day, mi lord.
Shaken and crying in the night like an abandon child in a sand
storm. I tell you now oh King to command
your scribe to write down all that I say; and the day my words perish is the
day the dreams return worse than before.”
Vendumar nodded,
even as the scribe was already fast at his work. Then the king asked, “What was the dream and
its meaning, child?”
“A bleeding eye
crow sat on a huge cut stone lying on its side.
The crow flew to the ground as the pillar was raised. Four times this happened. Yet amid the standing stones were six bleeding
eye crows walking about on the blood soaked ground.”
The king was happy
to have found someone who could tell him his dream but was in awe at who spoke the
words. The one before him was no more
than a child of eight, but her maturity was more. Vendumar inquired, “There was another.”
Kimashe looked very
grave, “Indeed there was sire. For all
six crows came together as one making a seventh larger crow. The seventh crow had white bleeding eyes and
a forked tongue like a snake. The large,
sharped tongue crow began pecking at a gold, ringlet-leaf crown, like
yours. It filled with holes and each one
was bleeding, before it fell apart and melted into the blood soaked ground.”
Falling back into
his throne with great fright, Vendumar gasped, “Come wicked child! Pray tell me surely the meaning of such
disgust and mare as this thing you have made plan to me and all here. These are the very things indeed that have so
plagued me!”
Both of her arms rose
out and became stiff. Her fingers went
jagged and ridged as her own grey eyes began to bleed. Suddenly her gentle voice sounded like that of
an old man, “Six shall come, and four be slain and their black words shall see
much blood spilt. A seventh shall rise
greater than the six. Embolden by them
the very king who hears him shall be the final one!” After her prophecy she collapsed to the
floor. Upon standing she was as before.
The entire room was
much worried by her words. Vendumar
said, “No one shall speak against the king.
The king himself, alone shall reprieve or condemn any who do for that is
what kings do; fate and judgement. In
this matter, I perceive you have spoken truthfully without malice. We shall strive in our reign to cause only
light, good and harmony to continue in -.”
“What of Varlendur
and the dungeon renown through Eriduah; and you as holder of its iron key?” Kimashe
interrupted.
Vendumar saw this
was no child before him but something greater, “You have been afforded good
will up to this point, Seer of Nasil.
Watch your words and tone thereof.
There is a reason and season for that key and its business is no concern
of yours. Thank you for your service;
you may either return to your old life or begin a new one here.”
“I shall return unhindered
either way.” As she turned to leave the
great tower doors flew open on their own accord to the dismay of all.
...
...
Nephilim Age Forgotten
Upon a mighty hill I saw
covered beneath massive waves
vast oceans crashing upon oceans;
no where for a lone raven to rest,
no branch anywhere for peace.
The dead were awash
till the lands reappeared
and the waters receded;
only a handful remained
to bury the multitude.
For the world had turned
full face unto its arrogance
and a grave-shame unto itself
as pride and vanity were all about.
Eating without care or want
and drinking the filth of wine
beyond gluttony's ripe pleasure
was in everything they did!
For disrespect of elders or peer
fearless in the face of sin
eager to way-lay the innocent
even among the weak of kin.
The Land was without love
natural affections were meaningless
right living abandoned
in the face of perverse lusts.
Men laid with children or animals
as if alongside women;
and they forsook men
for the forgetful bliss of herbs.
The world was stumbled
in depth of greed and lust
they were washed away
that Nephilim Age forgotten!
...
covered beneath massive waves
vast oceans crashing upon oceans;
no where for a lone raven to rest,
no branch anywhere for peace.
The dead were awash
till the lands reappeared
and the waters receded;
only a handful remained
to bury the multitude.
For the world had turned
full face unto its arrogance
and a grave-shame unto itself
as pride and vanity were all about.
Eating without care or want
and drinking the filth of wine
beyond gluttony's ripe pleasure
was in everything they did!
For disrespect of elders or peer
fearless in the face of sin
eager to way-lay the innocent
even among the weak of kin.
The Land was without love
natural affections were meaningless
right living abandoned
in the face of perverse lusts.
Men laid with children or animals
as if alongside women;
and they forsook men
for the forgetful bliss of herbs.
The world was stumbled
in depth of greed and lust
they were washed away
that Nephilim Age forgotten!
...
Halloween 2015
Seems to have become our custom to go across the street to the Baptist Church for their "Fall Festival" on Halloween. From 4:00 Pm to 6:00 PM it's a safer alternative to traveling in the dark in unlit areas.
The Great Hall
A month to the day Kwondol and his Masons returned to the elven port city of Mithar. In four months they completed a grand structure that came to be called The Great Hall. A domed house two hundred feet about and six stories high. It was carved in the likeness of two hands with interlaced fingers; one elf and the other dwarf. The thumbs were dropped away and tipped; the space in-between the thumbs and fingers were carved as leafed and woven vines. Both thumbs were supported with spiraled columns. A curved stair case lead up to the pillared thumb's porched way. A solid oak, round door set in the middle. Through the single entrance of the Great Hall's brief hallway one came to a lone chamber where three stagered row of seats lined the wall. Three steps lead down to the center where the Elven star was inlaid in gold. Along the domed walls were the Ax and sword Dwarven seal woven about vine; all inlaid with Mithrel silver.
Behind The Truth
I was raised as a Jehovah's Witness for 13 years. It took me two very long years of intensive personal Bible study to escape the clutches of the "Elder teachings". Then I became a Southern Baptist for 15 years; 7 of that as a Lay minister, and 3 attending the Howard Payne University to be a Pastor, (but dropped out). Then from much frustration and politically correctness burn out I left. As a JW everything was deemed "pagan". So, for another 15 years (2 in a 'teaching' Wiccan-Coven); I journeyed along a Pagan Path of self exploration. About 4 years ago I returned to Christ. I am also a big Lord of the Rings/ Tolkien fan!
In the book I am endeavoring to construct, THE WATCHER'S REQUIEM; many of these experiential themes are explored through the examples of various characters.
.........
(What do you think this is?)
In the book I am endeavoring to construct, THE WATCHER'S REQUIEM; many of these experiential themes are explored through the examples of various characters.
.........
THE END Coming Soon!
The Jews became a nation in 1947, took over the temple mount in 1967, and began the Temple Institute in 1987.
...
TEDDYs home!!!
There comes that time
There comes that time
in all our lives when we feel all alone
filled with sorrow or depths of shame
comes also the epiphany of clarity
as if alone in all the world
you were the one to figure life out
there comes a time when you're able to
laugh more than cry at yourself
tenacity, endurance and steadfastness
they all bred their own reward
from self doubt, and pity and loathing
to give rise from some secret
inward part of your soul to
love deeply, hope in bliss, and care in truth
there comes a time when
you just
have
to let go
to grow.
.....
in all our lives when we feel all alone
filled with sorrow or depths of shame
comes also the epiphany of clarity
as if alone in all the world
you were the one to figure life out
there comes a time when you're able to
laugh more than cry at yourself
tenacity, endurance and steadfastness
they all bred their own reward
from self doubt, and pity and loathing
to give rise from some secret
inward part of your soul to
love deeply, hope in bliss, and care in truth
there comes a time when
you just
have
to let go
to grow.
.....
If only...
If only --
deep exhaling sigh
there was some way
to have everything unchanged
changed and yet the same
as if --
deep cleaning inhale
two lives lived at once
one continuing forward
the other almost reliving anew
the music would be the same
yet events and feelings
all would be change
is that regret
I don't think so
just realizing more
years ahead than behind
enjoying live for the first time
not regret just not fearing
anymore the embrace of life
...
The Pink Zombie
there just quietly resting
beneath some slumbering haze.
characters desiring their stories told;
yet since Lithium entered their stage
She quieted them as if in waiting
That Pink Lady whose reputation
thankfully I have not come to know
has actually shown me grave respect.
I now call the characters when I chose
instead of them rushing upon me
clambering with demands to be heard
out of chronological order or care:
one is ethereal, tall and elven fair
placed in a Sanitarium's padded cell
as Steam-punk music is overlaid.
But now with my steady mind I can
craft their desires more fittingly
as should be done: Elf lords in his fairy
woods, the undercover reporter caught
off guard, and the airship well on its
way in tune for docking.
I deeply feared the drug would inhibit
my thoughts in a zombie fashion;
however, after Her learning curve I
see the haze is about my focus
not in view - I'm happy to create anew.
...
The House
The house down the lane
a cottage snug with warmth
its inner glow with love
passion and compassion
an upstairs office
all filled with books
and treasures in every nook
invited to its inner sanctum
bliss resides and hope fanned
...
TEDDY: UPDATE
Our new little puppy, Teddy -like all puppies and babies will do- jumped at the opportunity to get into trouble, but this time an accident cost him dearly. Alice's TV tray table was bumped causing her sorting of medications to go flying foot-ward. Teddy ingested a Baclofen pill. After an hour or so he began showing deathening signs of distress. We took him to the EMERGENCY VET hospital and he's stayed over night. I just called a few moments ago and they were extremely excited to report that Teddy is up and about walking, eating and used the restroom outdoors!!! Teddy is making a full recovery and we should be able to have him back home Sunday morning; after another night of observation and medicated rest. Praising God in all things; the joy and love of having "Fur-people" in our lives.
...
The New Pink
There is a new pink in my life
She makes my world go around
Instead of a myriad roaming thoughts
glances all about at wonders
rather than jumping to and throw
from saddens to depths of sorrow
or kindhearted smiles to ecstatic delights
She filters my desires and distrust
my self loathings and disgusts
into a manageable focused stream
demanding me to chart a course
for calmer seas and fair lands
forgoing the drama of chaos
Thank you Lithium.
...
She makes my world go around
Instead of a myriad roaming thoughts
glances all about at wonders
rather than jumping to and throw
from saddens to depths of sorrow
or kindhearted smiles to ecstatic delights
She filters my desires and distrust
my self loathings and disgusts
into a manageable focused stream
demanding me to chart a course
for calmer seas and fair lands
forgoing the drama of chaos
Thank you Lithium.
...
Water spout
AT WORK I felt the ground shake. A ground crew digging a hold struck the water main which gushed everywhere!!!
Fayendar
Many years ago I started writing an epic tale I entitled The Nephilim Age. Many waters and even more bridges later I have begun yet another deeper epic tale; a Bible of sorts entitled THE WATCHER'S REQUIEM. In the Nephilim tale the main character was called Fayendar. He was a deseandant from the elves who stayed behind instead of fleeing with the others from the shores of (Tolkien's) Middle Earth. I am currently in the process of turing the narritive prose into a long verse poem. Here is just a small portion of what I have so far, and a link to where I have placed it among the grander story, (so far). Hope you enjoy.
THE TALE OF FAYENDAR
He fled his father’s home
for the adventures of self-discovery
under the banner of a new king
who sought an elven realm afar.
Yet feeling betrayed to anger his
elder brother Calan pursued
the younger Fayendar with might of arms
of his own, to came against in strife
those rebellious freedom seekers heading east.
A great departure of their own
ancient forefathers had seen many
sail beyond the rim of the world
from the eternal lands of their
precious living-fair undead.
Those who remained behind did
fashion a new society of dreamers,
teachers and leaders of lesser men,
those weaker sons of Adam
who survived the gore of war.
From that lot of the frail
disenchanted ones of great loss
Fayendar, like Nadan before him,
sought only truth and a higher calling
more than rote ritual of vain ways.
Taking sides with his bitter dying father
Calan scorned Fayendar for leaving
under the banner of one called
king, by his own force of will was
uncrowned by Mithar’s Nephilim sons.
Yet Varlenfay proved his wrath against
the trolls and boars that fell
upon Lindol and its desolation
by which he gained his fame of might.
For from the Iron Hills north they came
with vengeance unknown with brutal
force upon their wild boar steads
the stench of trolls made their havoc.
Nine hundred fell that day yet by
Valenfay’s swift blade nine hundred
were saved and called him king
of valor as Mithar aided not their cause
. . . . . . .
A work in progress...
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