Written By Raimon
May 31, 2021, 1:19 a.m.(7/26/1015 AR)
For Mangata, yet again:
The ocean is a restless Queen
Her whims in constant motion
Her endless whitecapped beauty draws
Vast wealth of true devotion
A-Storm one hour, calm the next,
She's always changing mien
But Her Depths hide a Sacred Calm
that's rather -felt- than seen
The ocean is a restless Queen
Her whims in constant motion
Her endless whitecapped beauty draws
Vast wealth of true devotion
A-Storm one hour, calm the next,
She's always changing mien
But Her Depths hide a Sacred Calm
that's rather -felt- than seen
Written By Raimon
May 31, 2021, 12:59 a.m.(7/26/1015 AR)
I -spent- all my -young- years in -Tor-
Which -sounds- like a bit of a -bore-.
All day we'd mock - fight . . .
(then sleep through the night)
A squire's staid life -- nothing more
Now, -Tor- is quite -famous- for -roses-
Which -most- folk enjoy with their -noses-
But a bout near a hedge
(as I'd more than allege)
Could lead to -hilarious- poses
For in the first days of the spring
Once sparrows had come out to sing
We'd play a "fun" game
(that didn't have a name)
But -losing- could leave quite a -sting- . . .
The -Rose- garden -- height of true class
Has -hedges-, but -scarce- any -grass-
So if knockdowns occurred,
You'd swear a choice word,
While pulling rose thorns from your ( , )
. . . Ah:so . . . many memories . . .
Which -sounds- like a bit of a -bore-.
All day we'd mock - fight . . .
(then sleep through the night)
A squire's staid life -- nothing more
Now, -Tor- is quite -famous- for -roses-
Which -most- folk enjoy with their -noses-
But a bout near a hedge
(as I'd more than allege)
Could lead to -hilarious- poses
For in the first days of the spring
Once sparrows had come out to sing
We'd play a "fun" game
(that didn't have a name)
But -losing- could leave quite a -sting- . . .
The -Rose- garden -- height of true class
Has -hedges-, but -scarce- any -grass-
So if knockdowns occurred,
You'd swear a choice word,
While pulling rose thorns from your ( , )
. . . Ah:so . . . many memories . . .
Written By Raimon
May 29, 2021, 1:46 a.m.(7/22/1015 AR)
A triptych of Haiku occurred at the Zen Garden:
"The cloying moist heat;
It sticks even to fingers . . .
Wash insides with Tea!"
One moonbeam beckons;
Summer insects pause, quiet . . .
Make Still, the Waters
A long way from home;
Forty long years of learning . . .
What treasures, betimes!
"The cloying moist heat;
It sticks even to fingers . . .
Wash insides with Tea!"
One moonbeam beckons;
Summer insects pause, quiet . . .
Make Still, the Waters
A long way from home;
Forty long years of learning . . .
What treasures, betimes!
Written By Raimon
May 27, 2021, 2:38 a.m.(7/18/1015 AR)
In Suffocating Darkness
Your shoulders knot and tighten, clenched;
your limbs you cannot raise.
Your eyes downcast and sightless, stare;
You cannot lift your gaze.
You cannot even really breathe,
so binding is your cage.
You clench your jaws to hold within
frustrations, tears and rage.
You’ve curled and hunched to fit your bounds
and to one side you lean.
Your body’s shape is cramped and bent,
confined by walls unseen.
A place which had once nourished you
now holds but crusted bile
Stagnation's scent is choking you:
'tis fact beyond denial.
A knotted collar rings your neck,
your movements it constrains.
A massive weighted yoke it seems,
for dragging iron chains.
I pray that through your shell you’ll hear,
that note each brave heart finds –
Stab upward: Strike! An Aim that’s True
will shatter that-which-binds!
*Explode* into the clean cold air,
taste that which Freedom brings!
You’ll find across your back you bear
No yoke, but budding _wings_.
(( ooc: https://youtu.be/egXoY3n3Cy8?t=12 ))
Your shoulders knot and tighten, clenched;
your limbs you cannot raise.
Your eyes downcast and sightless, stare;
You cannot lift your gaze.
You cannot even really breathe,
so binding is your cage.
You clench your jaws to hold within
frustrations, tears and rage.
You’ve curled and hunched to fit your bounds
and to one side you lean.
Your body’s shape is cramped and bent,
confined by walls unseen.
A place which had once nourished you
now holds but crusted bile
Stagnation's scent is choking you:
'tis fact beyond denial.
A knotted collar rings your neck,
your movements it constrains.
A massive weighted yoke it seems,
for dragging iron chains.
I pray that through your shell you’ll hear,
that note each brave heart finds –
Stab upward: Strike! An Aim that’s True
will shatter that-which-binds!
*Explode* into the clean cold air,
taste that which Freedom brings!
You’ll find across your back you bear
No yoke, but budding _wings_.
(( ooc: https://youtu.be/egXoY3n3Cy8?t=12 ))
Written By Raimon
May 27, 2021, 2:29 a.m.(7/18/1015 AR)
Through woods I Run, my heart at peace
the tall trees at my side
Their arms reach out, to Touch the sky
their roots in depths abide
And they now thirst and gently sip
from places hidden deep,
where melted snow has waited long
to fuel their skyward leap
Throughout the land dry husks are cracked
and soil's churned awake
by tiny, stretching, yearning arms -
green faces: sun to take.
New scents abound, exploding now
from every living thing.
A thousand shouts scream to my nose:
Look Here! I live! It's Spring!
the tall trees at my side
Their arms reach out, to Touch the sky
their roots in depths abide
And they now thirst and gently sip
from places hidden deep,
where melted snow has waited long
to fuel their skyward leap
Throughout the land dry husks are cracked
and soil's churned awake
by tiny, stretching, yearning arms -
green faces: sun to take.
New scents abound, exploding now
from every living thing.
A thousand shouts scream to my nose:
Look Here! I live! It's Spring!
Written By Raimon
May 26, 2021, 3:05 a.m.(7/16/1015 AR)
To Mangata
Bright moonlight dances whitecapped jigs
atop the weather-swells.
The wet night air is laden down
with heavy seaside smells.
The solemn scents of Death abound,
amidst the flotsam piles:
A dark green, pale white, clear and brown
Mosaic of Life-tiles.
I glimpse a seabird gone to rest,
her head tucked ’neath her wing.
She’ll fly, and on the morning cry:
new Joy-of-Life to sing.
The mists hang low about the rocks,
to shroud their slickened sides.
Up from the sea, small creatures float,
borne inland on the tides.
For some, life’s journey meets the Edge,
and ends when waves recede.
Soft, shapeless forms parched on dry sand,
which cannot salve their need.
But others’ lives are just begun,
when ’pon the sand they fall.
Into the ground they quickly dig,
and into safe-holes crawl.
As waves withdraw and gather strength,
once more to shoreward strive,
Their murmured breaths sing testament:
The Ocean is Alive!
Bright moonlight dances whitecapped jigs
atop the weather-swells.
The wet night air is laden down
with heavy seaside smells.
The solemn scents of Death abound,
amidst the flotsam piles:
A dark green, pale white, clear and brown
Mosaic of Life-tiles.
I glimpse a seabird gone to rest,
her head tucked ’neath her wing.
She’ll fly, and on the morning cry:
new Joy-of-Life to sing.
The mists hang low about the rocks,
to shroud their slickened sides.
Up from the sea, small creatures float,
borne inland on the tides.
For some, life’s journey meets the Edge,
and ends when waves recede.
Soft, shapeless forms parched on dry sand,
which cannot salve their need.
But others’ lives are just begun,
when ’pon the sand they fall.
Into the ground they quickly dig,
and into safe-holes crawl.
As waves withdraw and gather strength,
once more to shoreward strive,
Their murmured breaths sing testament:
The Ocean is Alive!
Written By Raimon
May 24, 2021, 3:01 a.m.(7/12/1015 AR)
-This- poem is writing itself -backwards- . . . from End to Beginning . . . ever since the Miracle at the Shrine of Jayus. Where, I wonder, will it have begun?
Before there were word-songs to sing,
before the Moon rose high,
While all lay Void and Shadow -wrapped,
beneath the unborn sky,
Before there came a 'time' to Be,
before the march of days,
Before the sunset’s wide red arms,
before the dawn’s bright rays,
In depths below all strands of myth,
there was nay aught but shade,
But to that Darkness: Light was born,
and thus the world was made.
One Note was spoken to the stars,
to their first flames ignite.
One Word expressed within the Minds
of all who’ve known the Light.
In quiet, earnest wonderment,
We watch its Song unfold.
In harmony, each soul now sings:
soft notes of burnished gold.
Before there were word-songs to sing,
before the Moon rose high,
While all lay Void and Shadow -wrapped,
beneath the unborn sky,
Before there came a 'time' to Be,
before the march of days,
Before the sunset’s wide red arms,
before the dawn’s bright rays,
In depths below all strands of myth,
there was nay aught but shade,
But to that Darkness: Light was born,
and thus the world was made.
One Note was spoken to the stars,
to their first flames ignite.
One Word expressed within the Minds
of all who’ve known the Light.
In quiet, earnest wonderment,
We watch its Song unfold.
In harmony, each soul now sings:
soft notes of burnished gold.
Written By Raimon
May 24, 2021, 12:06 a.m.(7/12/1015 AR)
A Tryptic of Haiku at the Shrine to Mangata . . .
Oppressive summer
Moist angry heat stalks the night . . .
Each Sleeper should Wake!
Bodies-of-Water
we are: walking through but mists . . .
-Nothing- is disturbed!
Ephemeral Dawn
Four deep breaths of perfect peace . . .
I also must Rise!
Oppressive summer
Moist angry heat stalks the night . . .
Each Sleeper should Wake!
Bodies-of-Water
we are: walking through but mists . . .
-Nothing- is disturbed!
Ephemeral Dawn
Four deep breaths of perfect peace . . .
I also must Rise!
Written By Raimon
May 20, 2021, 7:01 p.m.(7/5/1015 AR)
A Song is more than merely notes,
A Voice crafts more than sounds.
A Soul that's touched by Jayus
can defy all earthly bounds.
True Art can sing of Truths beyond
the reach of any word
And in the wake of Genius,
Hope's echoes can be heard . . .
A Voice crafts more than sounds.
A Soul that's touched by Jayus
can defy all earthly bounds.
True Art can sing of Truths beyond
the reach of any word
And in the wake of Genius,
Hope's echoes can be heard . . .
Written By Raimon
May 19, 2021, 3:57 a.m.(7/2/1015 AR)
Another year passes!
A toast with wine glasses!
A bobbing for apples
with good friends of yore!
Most excellent Hosting!
The laughing; the boasting!
The joy seen in every
new face at the door!
I do think I'd rather,
The next time we gather,
Be older and wiser
from all that's in store
But as for -this- moment
accept this bestowment
In thankful remembrance
of what's come before . . .
Best Wishes for -this- year
with Good Times and Good Cheer
And I'll hope to wish you
a great many more!
A toast with wine glasses!
A bobbing for apples
with good friends of yore!
Most excellent Hosting!
The laughing; the boasting!
The joy seen in every
new face at the door!
I do think I'd rather,
The next time we gather,
Be older and wiser
from all that's in store
But as for -this- moment
accept this bestowment
In thankful remembrance
of what's come before . . .
Best Wishes for -this- year
with Good Times and Good Cheer
And I'll hope to wish you
a great many more!
Written By Raimon
May 18, 2021, 12:04 p.m.(7/1/1015 AR)
Daggry
Nordstjernen guider båter og
håp stiger som bølgene gjør.
Snart vil soloppgangen skinne,
på et lyst sverd oppvokst på høyt!
Gudene som det er så mange,
med tanker alle sine egne,
En sannhet som hver må erkjenne
er ses som sollys treff hjertet:
Hele av virkeligheten er funnet,
helt innenfor dette øyeblikket.
Pust havluften og kjenne den!
Kjenn sannheten før du død!
https://translate.google.com/?sl=auto&tl=en&text=Daggry%0A%20%0ANordstjernen%20guider%20b%C3%A5ter%20og%0Ah%C3%A5p%20stiger%20som%20b%C3 8lgene%20gj%C3 8r.%0ASnart%20vil%20soloppgangen%20skinne%2C%0Ap%C3%A5%20et%20lyst%20sverd%20oppvokst%20p%C3%A5%20h%C3 8yt!%0A%20%0AGudene%20som%20det%20er%20s%C3%A5%20mange%2C%0Amed%20tanker%20alle%20sine%20egne%2C%0AEn%20sannhet%20som%20hver%20m%C3%A5%20erkjenne%0Aer%20ses%20som%20sollys%20treff%20hjertet%3A%0A%20%0AHele%20av%20virkeligheten%20er%20funnet%2C%0Ahelt%20innenfor%20dette%20%C3 8yeblikket.%0APust%20havluften%20og%20kjenne%20den!%0AKjenn%20sannheten%20f%C3 8r%20du%20d%C3 8d!&op=translate
Rhyming Translation: ( my own )
Dawn
One star now guides our hawkwinged boats.
Our hopes rise, soaring, with the waves.
Soon dawn's bright rays will shine upon
bright silver steel of swords upraised!
However many gods there are,
whatever viewpoints there may be,
The Truth that all must recognize
will warm hearts of those who See
That All Existence now is found,
within -this- very moment, aye.
As every breath of Sea - air sings:
Learn this Truth before you die.
Nordstjernen guider båter og
håp stiger som bølgene gjør.
Snart vil soloppgangen skinne,
på et lyst sverd oppvokst på høyt!
Gudene som det er så mange,
med tanker alle sine egne,
En sannhet som hver må erkjenne
er ses som sollys treff hjertet:
Hele av virkeligheten er funnet,
helt innenfor dette øyeblikket.
Pust havluften og kjenne den!
Kjenn sannheten før du død!
https://translate.google.com/?sl=auto&tl=en&text=Daggry%0A%20%0ANordstjernen%20guider%20b%C3%A5ter%20og%0Ah%C3%A5p%20stiger%20som%20b%C3 8lgene%20gj%C3 8r.%0ASnart%20vil%20soloppgangen%20skinne%2C%0Ap%C3%A5%20et%20lyst%20sverd%20oppvokst%20p%C3%A5%20h%C3 8yt!%0A%20%0AGudene%20som%20det%20er%20s%C3%A5%20mange%2C%0Amed%20tanker%20alle%20sine%20egne%2C%0AEn%20sannhet%20som%20hver%20m%C3%A5%20erkjenne%0Aer%20ses%20som%20sollys%20treff%20hjertet%3A%0A%20%0AHele%20av%20virkeligheten%20er%20funnet%2C%0Ahelt%20innenfor%20dette%20%C3 8yeblikket.%0APust%20havluften%20og%20kjenne%20den!%0AKjenn%20sannheten%20f%C3 8r%20du%20d%C3 8d!&op=translate
Rhyming Translation: ( my own )
Dawn
One star now guides our hawkwinged boats.
Our hopes rise, soaring, with the waves.
Soon dawn's bright rays will shine upon
bright silver steel of swords upraised!
However many gods there are,
whatever viewpoints there may be,
The Truth that all must recognize
will warm hearts of those who See
That All Existence now is found,
within -this- very moment, aye.
As every breath of Sea - air sings:
Learn this Truth before you die.
Written By Raimon
May 18, 2021, 12:30 a.m.(6/28/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Natasha
Nightfall
When Thrax men die, we're put to Sea in boats then set aflame.
And all that will remain of us are Stories and our Name.
Each life thus given to the waves shall to grey dust return.
And all a man thinks that he owns will one day slowly burn.
For in the end, the sea or grave will claim us one and all.
It's up to -us- to thus decide our fates -before- we fall:
To fade into obscurity, or live on in the Songs.
To bow down under this world's weight, or -try- to right its wrongs!
To face one's fear and do what's -right-, or meekly look aside.
To struggle for what's true and good, or wallow in our pride.
Whatever paths we choose in life, the ending's all the same.
Why not then strive for righteousness, instead of wealth or fame?
Fine, fancy cloaks and gilded shields will burn up just as well
As humbler clothes and wooden boards -- From ashes, who can tell?
If all's to end in ashes, then, Ensure your _Flame_ is bright!
And Light the way for others 'fore you sail off in the night . . .
When Thrax men die, we're put to Sea in boats then set aflame.
And all that will remain of us are Stories and our Name.
Each life thus given to the waves shall to grey dust return.
And all a man thinks that he owns will one day slowly burn.
For in the end, the sea or grave will claim us one and all.
It's up to -us- to thus decide our fates -before- we fall:
To fade into obscurity, or live on in the Songs.
To bow down under this world's weight, or -try- to right its wrongs!
To face one's fear and do what's -right-, or meekly look aside.
To struggle for what's true and good, or wallow in our pride.
Whatever paths we choose in life, the ending's all the same.
Why not then strive for righteousness, instead of wealth or fame?
Fine, fancy cloaks and gilded shields will burn up just as well
As humbler clothes and wooden boards -- From ashes, who can tell?
If all's to end in ashes, then, Ensure your _Flame_ is bright!
And Light the way for others 'fore you sail off in the night . . .
Written By Raimon
May 17, 2021, 3:59 p.m.(6/27/1015 AR)
I continue to work on the poem of 'The Lament for the Fallen.' The Poem is changing. Not the words -- the are largely the same.
A seabird screams in hunger
and in outrage and in pain.
Her screams but go unheeded, for
No living ears remain.
Yet bronzing sun glints light upon
the ocean's soft blue waves.
The breakers rush up on the sands
to backfill shallow graves.
Mangata's Tears thus sanctify
the acres of the slain.
And bloodstained walls and cobblestones
await Her cleansing rain.
The words are the same, but the Poem is changing. Moving. Flowing. Growing. As if alive. As if the poem, itself, reacts to my efforts to assuage this crisis. Perhaps: it is possible -- the -Poem- guides -me-? I do not know. It is, at the same time, 'the strangest of things' while also being 'the most natural thing in all of the world" . . .
A seabird screams in hunger
and in outrage and in pain.
Her screams but go unheeded, for
No living ears remain.
Yet bronzing sun glints light upon
the ocean's soft blue waves.
The breakers rush up on the sands
to backfill shallow graves.
Mangata's Tears thus sanctify
the acres of the slain.
And bloodstained walls and cobblestones
await Her cleansing rain.
The words are the same, but the Poem is changing. Moving. Flowing. Growing. As if alive. As if the poem, itself, reacts to my efforts to assuage this crisis. Perhaps: it is possible -- the -Poem- guides -me-? I do not know. It is, at the same time, 'the strangest of things' while also being 'the most natural thing in all of the world" . . .
Written By Raimon
May 14, 2021, 3:08 a.m.(6/20/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Ian
The bronzing sun casts light upon
the ocean's crisp blue waves
The breakers rush up to the sands
to backfill shallow graves
Mangata's Tears thus sanctify
the acres of the slain
But bloodstained walls and cobblestones
must wait for cleansing rain
A seabird screams in hunger
and in outrage and in pain
Its screams will go unheeded, for
No living ears remain.
https://pastebin.com/vTYbzGMG
the ocean's crisp blue waves
The breakers rush up to the sands
to backfill shallow graves
Mangata's Tears thus sanctify
the acres of the slain
But bloodstained walls and cobblestones
must wait for cleansing rain
A seabird screams in hunger
and in outrage and in pain
Its screams will go unheeded, for
No living ears remain.
https://pastebin.com/vTYbzGMG
Written By Raimon
May 11, 2021, 10:13 p.m.(6/15/1015 AR)
A whispered poem on the eve of the re-appearance of Joscelin Arterius, the former guildmaster of the Crafters Guild:
A songbird's voice cuts cool night airs
Incisive, steady, sure.
The high notes: rise to greet the stars
The deep ones: Steady. Pure.
In quiet, earnest wonderment,
We hear The Song unfold.
In harmony, our Souls now sing
soft notes of burnished gold.
(( ooc ref: https://play.arxgame.org/comms/boards/2119/view/1176103 ))
(( ooc context: https://pastebin.com/UhHPMVMQ ))
A songbird's voice cuts cool night airs
Incisive, steady, sure.
The high notes: rise to greet the stars
The deep ones: Steady. Pure.
In quiet, earnest wonderment,
We hear The Song unfold.
In harmony, our Souls now sing
soft notes of burnished gold.
(( ooc ref: https://play.arxgame.org/comms/boards/2119/view/1176103 ))
(( ooc context: https://pastebin.com/UhHPMVMQ ))
Written By Raimon
May 11, 2021, 9:15 p.m.(6/15/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Cesare
The prayer - offering to the god Jayus on Cesare's behalf, after witnessing Cesare's performance at the Art Festival : https://pastebin.com/geAhgAy3
Written By Raimon
May 11, 2021, 8:17 p.m.(6/15/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Gael
(( ooc commentary: What happens when you juxtapose a day spent fencing on the proving grounds, with a cider & mead - fueled night at the 'Bee for Mabelle's Limerick contest? Some very strange things happen when you wake up the next day, my friends . . . some very strange things indeed! ))
"Before Gael hit my head with an Axe . . .
I really didn't -have- any knacks . . .
Yet -now- I can rhyme . . .
and -do-, all the time, . . .
Who -knows- why, but -that's- just the -facts- !"
- a suitably befuddled Prince Raimon **
** (( ooc note: But only after I spent half the +Event Google-ing: How-to-write-a-Limeri..., wait, does that have 1 m or 2? ))
"Before Gael hit my head with an Axe . . .
I really didn't -have- any knacks . . .
Yet -now- I can rhyme . . .
and -do-, all the time, . . .
Who -knows- why, but -that's- just the -facts- !"
- a suitably befuddled Prince Raimon **
** (( ooc note: But only after I spent half the +Event Google-ing: How-to-write-a-Limeri..., wait, does that have 1 m or 2? ))
Written By Raimon
May 8, 2021, 3:52 p.m.(6/9/1015 AR)
Mangata sent a TruthSeeker to us, Blessed Be the Breath of Her Name
Written By Raimon
May 7, 2021, 10:53 a.m.(6/6/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Erasmus
Met the Lord Tyde at the docks near his ship. Having now seen this most admirable man in person, I must say: To the degree that I can tell, what I -suspect- is true for him -is- true. We shall see more, perhaps, as events unfold? And if it is also true that he once said: "Nobles have their ranks and privileges due to our duty to serve," . . . well, those are words that could very well have been torn from my own soul. Would that I could learn more from such a man as this. Having tested him to the best of my ability under the circumstances, he does seem genuine to the degree I can tell. Time will tell of course. It always does.
Written By Raimon
May 7, 2021, 10:49 a.m.(6/6/1015 AR)
Finally told someone. The Lady Zoey Kennex elicited the secret in the library over tea. May Mangata grant that my trust is warranted. I pray that it is. Gods grant we prevail.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.