03/15/11

Sword and the Pen

All poetry upon this page was written by the hand of Sir Blackwolf.

A Warrior and a Poet

A Warrior and a Poet sat quietly before the fire,

the Poet gazing up at the stars, the Warrior stared into the pyre.

The Poet was fair to see, beauteous in heart and mind.

The Warrior clad in mail, an imposing figure of his kind.

The Poet spoke to her companion, "What thinkest thee of yon sky?"

Replied the Warrior, "Verse from my tongue Fair Lady, hastens not to fly."

"How so?" spoke the Poet, "Does naught kindle passion in thy soul?"

"Indeed" quoth the Warrior, "A fine horse, a good sword, a hind upon the pole".

"How callous, how cruel!" exclaimed the Poet her hand smoothing her long hair.

"Care you not for love? For the gaze from a Maiden Fair?"

"Of course" replied the Warrior. "A heart of a man beats within this steel.

But duty and honor both a families love, permits me not to feel.

My charges are my children, unto death shall I defend.

My mate is my sword, upon which your life may depend.

For hearth and home and wife's sweet kiss, I must forsake,

to heed the call to duty, the cold lonely path I take."

The Poet sat and pondered this, an answer sad to hear.

"Of this I ne'er thought, safety thought I, was always near!

But tis bought with blood of Warrior, and tear of maiden eye.

While family and home sit secure, the Warriors fight and die.

So I shall pen the sonnet, the ballad, and the song.

You stand before the gate, the night so dark and so long.

Your valor and your service, we shall not forget,

as long as I have pen and ink, and words enough to fit.

 

Broken Swords

A sword is crafted in fiery forge, beaten, shaped and crafted,

ground unto a keen edge, with strong guard and pommel hafted.

Likewise too is the Noble Knight fashioned, not born,

upon the forge of Life is the mettle of his soul formed.

Blow upon blow does his frail human heart take,

tempered in tears of agony, a soul of steel doth make.

Til resilient and strong, a Knight brave emerges,

and from down trodden hearts, fell despair purges.

So if ye would be as a Knight, bound by Golden Cord,

sunder not as a broken sword, but as a blade reforged.

 

Daughter of the Morrigan

Men clad in steel clashed and fought and died,

high above the field she watched, her eyes away not shied.

Seated upon her horse, a roan with eyes bright,

as her Mistress above her, watched the awful sight.

Back and forth the battle raged, no victor yet to see,

The Daughter of the Morrigan sat quietly, waiting for what was to be.

Garbed in mail, spears she bears, a shield with raven symbol,

watching and waiting, as the sun dips behind the hill.

The battle wanes as darkness falls, men stagger from the field,

The Daughter rides down, the warriors before her visage yield.

As the moon rises up, the warriors watch her raise her arms on high,

a cry of fear escapes their lips, as the dead to her do fly.

Yet as they watch, a sense of peace overtakes their fear,

for the Spirits go to her smiling, the warriors raise a cheer.

For now they know their souls will not be forsaken,

for by the love of the Daughter, to Elysium are taken.

 

Of Honour and Chivalry

Honour and Chivalry set down in word, deed and stone,

hath set  the course of many a brave heart.

To ride forth, meet the challenge, wrongs to atone,

these words that thrill the Spirit, and set men apart.

 

For to follow this chart, and seek this trail,

takes a mortal form with strength and courage seldom seen.

From whence does it come, these words of myst and dale,

Who first gave them form, what do they mean?

 

For such is it writ, the Knight shall be Prow,

foremost, forefront, the last to withdraw.

Skilled in all arts martial and to the antagonist unbowed,

yet still Gracious and Just, giving Mercy to the foe once he is falled.

 

Such Courage such Strength, yet not just of sinew,

but the mettle of Spirit, such Faith must be embraced.

Largesse is thy code, when riches are few,

given unto those in need, where poverty lays waste.

 

Unto Lady Love is given fair worship, devotion, and care,

to hold her on high, the esteem of  your deeds.

To treasure such beauty and grace light as air,

protect her from harm, and heed unto her needs.

 

Be thou Noble in action, and Loyal to thine own,

Humble in word, and Courteous in thy manner.

For by setting the example, is won prized renown,

The mantle of Chivalry is not cast aside, like a war torn banner.

 

Go forth now Knight, take up your sword and shield,

fear not, for there are those that will help carry your load.

Those whose steps you follow, their echoes heard across the field,

The Knights of ages past, the Brethren of the Code.

 

The Huntress

Kneeling before the sacred fire, sage smoke drifts slowly high,

she prays to the Spirits of the hunt, invoking them come nigh.

Humbly she asks a life for life, the Circle to complete,

the Hunter and the Hunted, a Sacred cycle, life's heartbeat.

She braids her auburn hair, a hooded robe she wears,

she dons her quiver of arrows, a yew longbow she bears.

Setting out on woodland trail, cloven hoof prints she espies,

strong the scent of rutting buck, plain before her the quarry lies.

Circling round, gliding through brush, no sound does she make,

a Sacred pact, a promise given, before a life she takes.

A noble stag, strong and pure, grazes on the glen,

she admires his form, a prayer of gratitude forth she sends.

Woman and Stag, Huntress and Prey, look one upon the other,

He acquiesces, she nods her head, the Sister and the Brother.

The shaft flies true, the heart is sundered, the great stag falls,

she rushes forward and kneels beside him, a tear from her eye falls.

Taken with love, never in greed, her family now spared,

from hunger's pain and want of need, by a heart laid bare.

The Circle of Life has been renewed, a Sacred trust fulfilled,

the Huntress and the Hunted, Life's connection now is sealed.

 

I Know How Lancelot Felt

Lancelot Du Lac, the greatest Knight of all,

a hero to me, on his example I do call.

Arthur's best friend, his protector and ally,

the man who betrayed him, and away with his Love did fly.

Lancelot loved both, the Lady and the Lord,

with all of his heart, in their sight it did soar.

But the need for Love's kiss and for sweet embrace,

caused he and Guinevere's hearts to one another taste.

My heart too knows his passion, and his heart's great need,

for the Love of a Lady, doth cause my heart to bleed.

Her Lord noble and kind, and of a generous soul,

not knowing of my love, her heart would I stole.

But what I would want, I know cannot ever be,

for only for her Lord, her loving eyes do see.

I would be like Lancelot, if only but a tenth,

but not for the world, would a tear of her's be spent.

I know how Lancelot felt, but I shall walk alone,

my love remain unshared, my heart like a wraith moan.

If onlys and what if's my boon companions be,

til Death stills the Love I know can never be.

 

For the Love of a Lady

A Lady's love is a worthy Quest,

for a Knight to put his heart to the test.

Her soft shy gaze, the light in her eyes,

A Magic within as such from the Moon flies.

Her full lips, soft as peach and sweet to taste,

doth kindle a flame, not one to quench in haste.

A form of figure fine, dignity and grace,

keen wit, depth of thought, a mind as intricate as lace.

With laughter bright and clear as Midsummer's night,

scatters the fiends of sadness into hastened flight.

Clad in the shining armor of gentleness,

armed with the mighty sword of finesse.

The Love of a Lady renews the heartsick Knight,

envelopes and ennobles him, as she holds him in the night.

So for Honor's sake and Love of my Lady Dear,

shall I strive and I struggle forth to hold her ever near.

 

Mistress of the Flame

Flames leap and dance within a circle of stone,

air cool and crisp, breath seen in air white as bone.

She dances by the flame, face and skin blaze like fire,

her movements fluid, graceful, a lover of the pyre.

Her long black dress, her radiant face, her long golden hair,

a vision of grace and beauty, flowing in the heated air.

Her hands circle in fluid motion, in concert with her heart,

bedazzled am I that watches her, my gaze away cannot part.

She dances for me I am sure, not for anyone else here,

my heart consumed in the dance of flame, I am her’s it is clear.

The Mistress writhes about the circle, the flames begin to ebb,

my body, soul and heart, ensnared within her web.

The flames flicker lower, the Mistress floats away,

amoungst the smoke and embers, gone with the break of day.

My heart is a burned out cinder, empty to the core,

in desperate need to be rewarmed, by the Mistress as before.

 

Ocean's Tide

Two Knights journeyed from mountains deep to the ocean's shore,

comrades in arms, one dark, one light, going where one had been before.

With gladness did they bring their steeds there to the crashing waves,

with joy they surmounted the dune, smelling the salt air so greatly craved.

They stopped cold in their tracks, their eyes grew wide to see,

one hundred Warriors upon a fierce longboat, floated on the wide blue sea.

The Warriors looked to the Knights on the shore, calling upon the wind,

"Knights bold and strong, we are thy ancestors, whither hast thou been"?

"Long has been our wait, glad are we that thou hast come,

there are deeds to do, tasks to attend, work to be done"!

"Take these symbols of our faith and our love, there look upon the sand!"

And there at their feet was a shield of shell and claw of sea dragon's hand.

With grateful hearts the Knights took up their prized gains,

but looking up again the Warriors were gone, only geese there remained!

And circling above their heads two pelicans sunwise wheeled,

Saying "Go forth now Knights, and return here when thy will"!

 

Samhain

Samhain, Celtic New Year, All Souls Night,

twisted by myth to a time of horror and fright.

Not so, untrue, tis a Sacred place and time,

a time of reunion with loved ones summoned with rhyme.

A night of feasts, of fire, dancing and song,

a night to remember sweet faces gone too long.

You might caper about with your tricks and treats,

I'll raise a toast to Ancestors, whose love in my

heart beats.

 

The Archer

Down a sylvan lane, a lithe form glides,

senses taut as her bowstring, naught from her hides.

Her soft leathern boots, no sound does she make,

her pace quickens, an arrow from her quiver takes.

What could her target be? A noble stag, a mighty boar?

Nay tis a man, a cutthroat, his hands covered in gore.

A poor man he has slain, wife and child tremble near,

a few coins are his reward, he looks to the maid, she faints in fear.

The brave little lad stands guard over his dame,

given but years and a blade, knighthood will be his fame.

The rogue sneers and casts the boy aside,

he leers over the maid, dagger raised on high.

An arrow leaps from the bow, transfixes the mortal hand,

With fear and surprise the knave falls onto the land.

With slow dignity, the hooded Archer strides forth,

her bearing strong and fearless, like a Valkrye of the north.

The ruffian stumbles back, as she draws her elegant blade,

the mother stirs, the lad runs to her, she rises from the glade.

"Begone fiend" quoath the Archer, "and molest nevermore,

lest blade or feathered shaft end thy cruelty forevermore"!

 

The Black Knight

In a deep forest glenn, lit by the low flying moon,

myst rises up, creatures fall still, a dark figure looms.

A sable charger, massive hooves shine in the dark,

eyes gleam like silver, his master's commands doth hark.

A great flowing mane with barding long and black,

power barely restrained, no strength does he lack.

Astride this great steed, a man or demon do we see?

A vision so imposing, so baleful, causing his foes to flee.

Encased in armour plate, a dark helm upon his head,

a great shield with wolf device, a devourer of the dead.

His mighty sword long and grim is girt upon his side,

a lance he wields, from his dark eyes naught can ever hide.

What is this? A child has wandered in the glenn!

The dread Knight espies her, his eyes narrow, his lips grin.

The fell steed cantors toward the lass, a cry of fright upon her lips!

Toward her looms the dark destrier, the lance begins to dip!

The point is near her heart, I must to look away!

Oh Heaven save her! I fall upon my knees to pray!

What now? How so? The child does yet live!

The fell Knight reaches down, a kiss to her he does give.

Tis the child of his Love, a father strong and kind,

not a demon dark, but a Knight Noble of heart and mind.

Tis not that all things dark are evil and wild,

but oft are warm hearted, loving and mild.

 

The High Priestess

High atop a moonswept Tor, in a Circle of standing stone,

before an ancient altar with fire, salt and hallowed bone.

Stands a Priestess, a follower of Religion Olde,

arms outstretched, face lifted skyward with a visage bold.

Her long red hair flies swept by the gusts of wind,

her sweet voice sings an ancient rhyme, a prayer forth she sends.

A long flowing robe her only garb, bare feet caress the Earth,

fair beauty in Spirit and form, a Lady of gentle birth.

She gazes round the Circle a chalice lifted high,

a dagger in her hand, she bids the Spirits nigh.

Smiling at Their touch she listens to the voices,

guiding her, teaching her, she ponders the many choices.

Many Paths lie before her leading to the One,

so much to learn, so much to share, ere the spell is done.

With a tear in her eye and a smile on her lips, she thanks the Ancient Ones,

to the Elements her head dips, she pours out the wine, the Ritual now done.

The student, now the teacher, takes her lessons to the fold,

there to lead by her example, new Priestesses bold.

 

The Knight

The Knight stands on guard before the castle door,

with eyes hard as flint, he watches the windswept moor.

Within the keep warmth and laughter, they've naught to fear,

singing and dancing, mirth and merriment, the meat begins to sear.

Wind whips at his cloak, the rain pelts on his mail,

his callused hand rests on his sword, his duty he'll not fail.

A warrior's greatest fear is not the foe or pain or death,

it's that harm might befall those he holds dear, those he'll defend unto his last breath.

So the Knight keeps his vigil,  the revelers dance about the place,

The grim warrior smiles to himself, a tear rolls down his scarred face.

He'll stand there all night if he must, till sleep takes the last of his wards,

a warrior's life is hard and thankless but their happiness is his reward.

The Knight stands on guard before the castle door,

with eyes hard as flint, he watches the sun rise over the moor.

 

The Lone Wolf

A Lord and his Lady and their children three,

had retired to the forest, from their cares to be free.

A fine camp were they in, no want was there to be had,

servants and guards at their tasks, never a thought was there sad.

On a dark star filled night they sat around the roaring fire,

laughing and singing, great joy had they there by the pyre.

When of a sudden a child gasped and cried out for her mother,

she pointed to the edge of the firelight, two eyes glowed but came no further.

The Lord lept up and hurled a blazing brand at the beast,

the children were calmed and comforted and turned to their feast.

A space of time passed and again the eyes returned,

the Lord was wrath, but in the Lady's breast pity burned.

She soothed her Lord and laid a joint of meat upon the ground,

heartbeats passed, the eyes never wavered, within them no fear was there found.

A great wolf strode forward, noble in bearing, black was his fur,

the family sat in silence as the beast approached the gift proffered.

The wolf bowed his head in thanks to the Lady so fair,

The Lords rage erupted, the wolf froze him with a baleful stare.

With dignity, the wolf with his gift departed into the dark,

the Lord stood trembling, shouting "Guards unto me hark!"

No sign, no track, no hair of the wolf did they find,

peace again restored, the family sat down again to dine.

Ere the first course was partaken, a great tumult arose,

attacked! The guards ran and shouted "We are beset by an evil foe!"

A huge bear clawed and killed, slaying servant and guard,

straight toward the family he roared, his heart as astone hard.

A dark flash sped past the family, like an arrow from the bow,

the black wolf  flung himself at the huge, horrid foe.

The battle raged back and forth, blood flew into the air,

roars of anger, growls of defiance, a yelp of pain stilled the pair.

One beast lay dead, the other bleeding and torn,

the family stared in horror, a guard blew upon his horn.

The Lord raised his hand, "Stay your spears, spare yon form",

for the wolf had saved him, his children and his Lady dear,

They rushed to his side, the children weeping, the Lady held him near.

His wounds were staunched and was bid to lie by the fire,

and there evermore the wolf and the family sat together before the pyre.

 

The Rising Sun

I sat upon the mountain top and gazed upon the sky,

the air was chill, stars shone still, dawn was breaking nigh.

I had come to this lonely place, to be alone a while,

for loneliness was my boon companion, I had forgotten how to smile.

Despair now anchored my heart, hope had fled my breast,

no joy was there to look for, death seemed a sweet night's rest.

I gazed off to the east where stars began to fade,

the sky lightening, brightening, the birth of another new day.

But twas not the sun which arose, a face appeared to me,

more radiant than the rising sun, but Rising Sun was she.

Gold hair framed fine features, her eyes a color unknown,

for such a hue is not made for man, but is the God's alone.

Her smile bedazzled my eyes, tears flowed upon my face,

a Form of Love and Beauty, of Elegance and Grace.

Sadness fell from me as though of ice it melted,

a Joy grew strong within me, never thought I to have felt it.

Returning my eyes upon the sky, the sun had recovered it's form,

yet the Lady remained within my heart, where a new Hope was born.

 

Why?

A Knight and his Lady sat side by side at the market place,

happy and content, an old comfort of years, their hands embraced.

The Lady turned to her Knight smiling, said she "why dost thou love me? "

The Knight smiled as well, and his heart swelled to see,

her radiant eyes, her beautiful hair, her smile like music fair.

The way she sings, the way she thinks, the way that she cares,

her soft hands, soft lips, soft skin, her fine and hardy form.

A Lady of gentle quality, with grace and elegance born.

She walks beside her Knight, not before, not after,

a partner and companion true, no one will he put before her.

"My Dear Lady" qouth the Knight, "how could I not love thee so?"

"For wherever life leads me, tis my dream, thou also goes."

 

Woodland Fairy

 A knight dark and somber made his way through the greenwood,

His destrier’s mood matched his master’s as by a stream they stood.

The mount slaked his thirst in the cold clear stream,

The knight’s gaze swept about and stopped upon a dream.

Or so thought he as with astonished eyes saw upon his arm,

A tiny woodland fairy, sweet and fair as a silver charm.

Her long hair fell about her shoulders, her eyes were bright to see,

She gazed up at the knight, then flew up kissing his cheek in glee.

The knight laughed at the touch of lips, full red and small,

And her smile soft and kind caused his cares away to fall.

She flew to the poll of the destrier and tickled one great ear,

Snorting the great horse reared, “Ceffel Dhu” the knight said,

“Do you fear a fairy tiny as she?” as she flew again to him near.

The fairy spoke in a voice sweet and fine as a silver bell,

“Sir Knight, might I follow thee, your adventures to write and tell?”

“Of course Milady” replied the knight, his heart as a feather light,

“I beg thee stay by my side, and hasten away not in flight.”

So she brightened his days, and comforted his long lonely nights,

And wherever they went, people marveled at the Fairy and her Knight.

 

A Cold Dark Night

 He walks slowly down the dusty lane, his horse follows behind,

his armour beaten, battered, a weary knight with much on his mind.

He thinks of loved ones lost, of comrades dead, of battles lost and won,

he thinks of children gone, of a Lady's kiss, of things he should have done.

By a cottage bright with light he stops, his horse turns one great ear,

to listen to children laughing and lovers talking in voices soft and dear.

His heart is like a lump in his throat and a tear rolls from his eye,

for such as this he left behind to heed the call of duty, toward harm to fly.

His reward is knowing what he does ensures peace, plenty, and happiness,

and long weary roads, and cold lonely beds and dark nights such as this.

Oft he wonders "Is it worth it"? "The heavy toll I must pay"?

The door swings open and out rush little children, into the night to play.

They suddenly stop and gaze at the knight in wonder and in awe,

their mother runs out behind them, her eyes widen as upon him they fall.

Silence holds firm the dark star filled night,

as they slowly, timidly walk toward the knight.

The children walk up and enfold tiny hands into his trembling one,

the Lady also approaches and gives him a smile, radiant as the sun.

Softly she gathers the children and into the house they scurry,

then she turns and kisses his cheek, and away she too hurries.

He walks slowly down the dusty lane, his horse follows behind,

his armour beaten, battered, a weary knight with much on his mind.

 

The Watcher

I have watched you rise and yawn and greet the Sun,

I have watched you laugh and play and run.

I have watched you feast and sing and dance,

I have watched you sit before the fire in lover's trance.

I have watched you walk together hand in hand,

I have watched you swim in the sea, and lay on the sand.

I have watched you pray and rejoice in gladness,

I have watched you cry and hold each other in sadness.

I have watched you tuck little ones in bed to slumber soft,

I have watched you kiss and love beneath stars aloft.

I have watched you sleep deep, never knowing peril was near,

I have watched harm averted and hasten away in fear.

All this and more have I watched and warded and seen,

But on hilltop dark or shadow deep have you ever

noticed the Knight unseen?

 

The Cottage

He was a Knight-errant, honourable but landless and poor,

she a Nobleman's daughter, surrounded by riches, jewels and more.

He rode into the castle on a windswept morn,

As soon as she saw him, a love strong was born.

He stabled his destrier, and looked to his tack and gear,

she hid behind piled hay, hoping his voice to hear.

He sang as he worked, scrubbing rust from armour black,

he sang of love, of a woman, of a life that he lacked.

He sang of children, of flowers and a cottage by the sea,

his song filled her eyes with tears, and she turned about to flee.

As she turned his saddle fell down upon the ground,

he turned and saw her there, her eyes blue, and huge, and round.

His breath caught, his heart pounded, he arose and bowed deep,

"MiLady" he said, "Honoured am I to meet the Lady of the Keep".

"Kind Sir" said she, "I am but a nobleman's daughter,

the Lady is gracious and beautiful, I am nothing like her".

"Now by my eyes do I see a Lady sweet and fair" said he,

"A Lady that has filled my dreams, thou art one such as she".

"A Lady I would die for, if only for a token of love to receive",

her heart fluttered like a sail in the wynd, again she turned to leave.

"Sweet Lady" said the knight, "Forgive my wyrds said in haste,

yet I beg of thee a boon, a favour, a kiss from thee may I taste"?

He knelt on bended knee holding out to her his hand,

she approached, and bestowed unto him the sweetest kiss in all the land.

"My Knight" said she, "Take me away to your cottage by the sea,

and there we will grow flowers and babes and none but the other see".

 

A Dream

 Sun shines warm on a grass covered field in May,

the wind blows soft and warm on this fine spring day.

The Knight sits in the grass with his beautiful Lady Love,

their children run and play, sweet girls fly like doves.

They squeal with delight as fragrant flowers they gather,

the Lady and the Knight laugh and clap, their hearts as light as feathers.

They reach out arms to greet the girls headlong flight,

a happy and loving family, never was there a sweeter sight.

With a start the Knight awakes, and knows it was but a dream,

for he hears the sound of battle, already blood flows like a stream.

Wearily he pulls on his helm and steps into the saddle,

his sword he pulls from it's scabbard and rushes into battle.

Sun shines warm on a grass covered field in May,

the wind blows hard and smoke chokes out the light of day.

 

The Gift

 A Lady's heart is not a trophy to be won,

but is a gift, soft and warm as springtime sun.

A jewel to be treasured and cherished with love,

kept from all harm, yet free as a dove.

My Dear Lady I offer thee this red rose,

in token of respect and affection from which my heart flows.

 

The Castle                    April 26th, 2004

High on the mysty mountaintop I built a castle deep,

a strong and mighty fortress, was my stonewalled keep.

Then I found a Lady love to live with me there,

a Lady kind and beautiful, with long golden hair.

We laughed and sang, and danced around the fire,

and we sat and talked, and made dreams before the pyre.

Never was there a knight happier in all the land,

and I planned and dreamed for the day I would ask for her hand.

But ere that blessed day came to be, the Lady slipped from my grasp,

she was gone into the mysts, my breath caught in sobbing gasps.

My great castle of stone, shattered and fell as if made of glass,

was this a terrible dream, a cruel fate that come to pass?

Aye, twas but a dream, too fine for a lowly knight,

and once again I return to the cold of the deep dark night.

 

Listen to your Heart                  May 23rd 2004

For what dost thou seek, and what dost thou yearn?

Tis Love thou dost seek, a hand that dost not spurn.

A touch soft and gentle, a smile sweet and kind,

an ear to hear thy troubles, thy dreams, and thy mind.

A hand which to clasp, and that wipes the tears away,

to protect thy precious children, and keep harm at bay.

A face to smile upon you, and gladdens at thy sight,

eyes to adore you, and lips to kiss late into the night.

Then hush my Lovely Lady, and hearken to the sound,

listen to your Heart, there the Truth will be found.

For the Love and Life thou seeks, is well within thy sight,

It dwells within the Heart and Soul of I, thy Loving Knight.

 

 

The Matriarch     May 26th 2004

 She cares for her family with a fair but firm hand,

The Mother of her line, the Matriarch of her clan.

With love greater than most she attends to their needs,

with bright shining eyes, her every word they do heed.

She is more than just Mother, or Woman, or Wife,

she is the ideal, the goal, the example in their life.

Such strength does she possess, no foe could her best,

wisdom learned with time, her deeds pass every test.

Respect is her due, all Honour is she deserving,

They who are of her line, are ever blessed by her serving

 

 

The Temple     June 26th 2004

 Two knights, comrades in arms traveled over the mountain green,

one of black, one of gold, and a squire was with them seen.

They journeyed to a temple remote, of great renown and beauty,

to strengthen their spirits, to heal their hearts, and seek there their duty.

Their breath caught as the trees parted to reveal the valley below,

therin stood the temple by the lake, in the sunlight it glowed.

In the shape of a lotus flower, a golden spire soared skyward,

bees hummed in the flowers, strange beasts stood there guard.

In awe and reverent silence the trio approached the magnificent temple,

in amazement they entered the sacred space, so beautiful, so simple.

Lamps flickered on the altar, and alcoves lined the wall,

and from each soared a shaft of light to the ceiling of the hall.

They knelt before the altar, and silent vigil kept they there,

each lost in thought, taken from their hearts each and every care.

Time ceased to exist, Divine Love filled heart and soul,

then gently returned to here and now by the bell that did toll.

With grateful hearts they left that place, eyes blinking in the sun,

with purpose and plan before them, their task is far from done.

 

 

The Ring      July 22nd 2004

A great winged dragon, ancient as myth, black as night,

protector of a family he loved in the guise of a knight.

With magics deep and mysterious and sinews like steel,

keeping from them every harm, every foe his wrath did feel.

Generation after generation he watched over elder and child,

with a love fierce and passionate, and a manner quiet and mild.

No matter the season or time, upon this guardian they could call,

like a deep dark night, from his mountain lair he would fall.

Then transforming his shape and form, a black knight was there seen,

mounted on a sable charger, a more formidable warrior had there never been.

Hastening to defend his loves, their safety was assured,

by blade and bow and dragonspell, a terrible fate the foe endured.

Years passed by, the ages changed, perceptions were no longer the same,

dragons were thought to be evil, a threat, upon noble head was heaped shame.

Cloaked in deep despair, tears rolling from his eyes,

the guardian of his family, cried out against the lies.

His roars of anguish and fear, were heard from the mountain lair,

His endless love for those he protected, his broken heart layed bare.

Ages passed, the sun rose and set more times then he could tell,

until one day, from far away, a plea for help upon his ears fell.

Just as it was in ages gone, he rushed toward harm and foe,

seeing far below him a child in danger, not once did he slow.

The battle was fierce and terrible, his adversary dark and fell,

and as before he was victorious, but unlike as before, he also fell.

The family was stunned to see, the knight before them lie,

and transformed back to dragon form, before their eyes did die.

Not until then did they know the service he had given them,

not out of duty, but out of love was his life and soul given them.

In honour of this devotion, the family forged rings with dragon device,

and to this day they wear them still, to remember his sacrifice.

 

Empty Circles            October 12, 2004

 A Knight stood by a Circle of stone,

silent now, empty now, cold and alone.

Not so was it always, this ring swept by the wynd,

once did drums beat, stones echoing the music within.

Now the ashes lay cold in the once bright and joyful pyre,

now the stars look down on a place forlorn, lonely and dire.

The Knight's heart ached to think of the revels once known here,

and as he left, along with him all memory of that place ne'er again did appear.

 

 

Orden de la Hacha (Order of the Hatchet)

By Sir Blackwolf                       December 29th, 2007

Twas a cold December morn as the banners snapped in the sky,

Dark weary eyes gazed over the field as the enemy stood nigh.

Long laid this siege upon the Citadel Tortosa of Aragon,

the Moor host arrayed for battle stood there in the dawn.

The Knights of Tortosa though stalwart had endured much anguish,

thought to end their plight and cease their people’s languish.

With bitter tears in their eyes and heartsick soul heavy as rock,

the Captain and Herald made ready for that final dark walk.

Then forth issued a cry most terrible and courageous to hear,

“We shall ride hence and slay the Moor both far and near”!

O what brave hearts, what souls valiant and strong,

assembled before the gate with spears sharp and long.

They rushed through the gate the Moors were astonished to see,

a great host of Knights and horse crashed like waves upon the sea!

Before blades swift and bright the Moor fled, the siege lifted,

who were these great Knights with courage and valour gifted?

As the wind swept the dust clear and horns ceased their call,

naught was heard but silence from the men upon the wall.

For on the field flew not banner nor flag of foe,

but twas the long hair of the women who lay the Moor low.

 

 

The Shieldmaiden

By Sir Blackwolf                              January 29, 2008

She sits in the Great Hall by the fire she ponders her life

Her thoughts filled with her duties as a Lady, Mother and Wife.

Yet more than this is she for Honour and Valour stir in her soul,

A life of Courage, Brave Deeds done for Glory is her goal.

But not Renown for herself is her wish nor is her desire,

tis Glory and Honour for Chivalry that lights her eyes with inner fire.

In secret places does she practice with bow, spear and sword,

in hidden places does she keep her armour laced with silken cord.

She trains for the day when she fears that will never appear,

the day she might be permitted to fight for those she holds dear.

She knows that within her dwells Courage and Strength bold,

enough to prove herself worthy as any Knight of the Code.

Then one dark day the sun rose with a hue of blood deep,

for a foe awful and sinister laid waste to hearth and keep.

The Knights sortied forth to meet this terror most great,

yet their Valour was for naught defeat was to be their fate.

Then there upon the field raced a figure with sword long and bright,

a Warrior of such Courage and Valour flew towards the fight.

The enemy turned to face this new threat with visage so fell,

yet never faltered the Warrior whose helmed face none could tell.

The combatants met with a thunderous clash,

both thrown form their steeds in a tumultuous crash.

The enemy towered over the Warrior with a blood covered sword,

and spake saying “Fool by no man am I slain, over all am I lord!”

The Warrior removed her helm long hair swept by the blowing wind,

“No man am I” said she and by the Shieldmaiden the foe met his end.

 

The Traveler

 by Sir Blackwolf                  July 8, 2009

 Sit ye by the fyre warm and merry, tarry with me awhile,

Sit ye I will tell you of travels taken upon many a far mile.

Lands filled with myst, craggy mountain cliffs of another time,

Lands filled with people and happenings and wisdom sung in rhyme.

There have I walked amoungst the serpents and creatures of Fey,

There have I spoke with Ancestors who before me my Path lay.

Visions of love and beauty, of happiness and cheer,

Visions of sadness and horror, of dismay and fear.

Never do they leave me, abandon me, never am I alone,

Never do they forsake me, cast away me as an old bone.

There do they strengthen me, cause my fears to take flight,

There do they empower me with a sword sharp and bright.

Yet no sword of steel is this as wielded by Warriors of yore,

Yet a sword filled with stars and light, and legend and lore.

Know fellow Traveler as you journey in lands of sun or snow,

Know fellow Traveler that with you, they and I also go.

 

Myrddin (Merlin) by Sir Blackwolf  May 8th, 2010

 

Myrddin it is said was a Wizard, a Seer, a  Wise Man with the Power of the Sight,

he who was able to prophesize and draw forth the Myst of the Night.

A man of deep Knowledge, the Wisdom of Past, Present and Future was his to call,

able to see the great Dragons of the Earth and preserve the strong castle wall.

Yet still a man mortal he was, though his years were counted in Ages,

he could not see all the possibilities, could not read all of Life's pages.

How then could he know the capriciousness of a man's love and heart?

How then could he know that such a small thing would sunder the Land apart?

How could he know the depths of deceit the jealous would plummet screaming?

How could he know the fruit of that union would be the death of his Dreaming?

Yet despite all these unseen things that unfolded dark and dread,

his Faith in his Quest never faltered, his Hope never fled.

Perhaps this was the True Lesson of Merlin's Arthur and his Court at Camelot,

that be we Wise men or not, that Love should be offered honestly and Faith earnestly sought.