The War, The Elf, The Great Ash Tree

Far, far away

A long time ago

When trees used to whisper

When trees used to sing

And when more than just deer

Once settled here

 .

For before humans came

Across the shining sea

Other folk once lived here

Gentle as a sparrow, clever as a cat

It’s where our children played

In this gentle glade

 .

Where the trees became our homes

And the leaves became our dwelling

Where peace and birdsong

The stars and sunlight

Twined ‘round us, a sacred cape

A sanctuary, a great escape

.

Until the day that they came

Across the shifting sea

Humans in their monstrous boats

With hunger in their eyes

Greed within their hearts

Something new within these parts

 .

Where greed and lust did not exist

With its fiery kiss

Instead tranquility and temperance true

Brushed us with its wings

But with these humans, something changed

The moment words between us were exchanged

.

For we were different, easily seen

Our pointed ears, our flowing tongue

Their rounded ears, their harsh, harsh tongue

We had our beliefs in different things

Held our honor different ways

And we lived far longer days

 .

So our cultures crashed

When they came upon our shores

And yet they had the daring nerve

To claim the land, to kill its creatures

Even when our ancestors

Had lived much longer than theirs

 .

And so one day, our differences

Collided in a single meeting

A human man, an eleven male

Achan the Young and Raeus the Light-foot

Both unsheathed their fiery tongue

And dark daring words they flung

 .

Which turned into a bloody night

For both humans and the elven

As Achan and Raeus turned to brutal duel

And late in the night, with Achan’s slaying

For no man could beat an elf

Our fragile peace so revered, it tumbled off the shelf

 .

And a full out war was pledged

Between our folk and theirs

With their battle drums and gnashing gums

And our silvery stunning swords

Our war began, our war was launched

That once began, no blood was stanched

 .

The elven folk fought for our former life

The whispering tress, the gentle life

And man fought for their pride and glory

With bloody words and hungry vows

To take what they thought was theirs

As we fought them for our cares

.

And through each battle

And through the blood

Our gentle life was shattered

Our gentle life was splintered

As war became our way of life

As our days were filled with strife

.

And we carried on for days and months

With neither side a winner

Until a woman, soft as dew-light

Marched to our brave leader

“Sigurad, this war must end

Why yet do we pretend?

 .

“Why yet do we pretend

To fight for our land, our home

When it is shattered, and rendered bare?

Our trees are dying, the sky is crying

The rivers run with blood

And blood has mixed in mud?”

 .

Siguard, the leader replied, much wearied

“Cienwen, fair one, do not mock me with your eyes

For within them you render much despise

I cannot end this war, though it’s wrecked our home

We fight for honor, we fight for family

We fight for all this agony”

 .

Cienwen left then, disagreeing

‘The fight is prideful,

And pride is fleeting

Like a summer bird in autumn

It soon will go away

And if it does, what left is there to say?

.

‘Our homes destroyed

The braches broken

The numbers of dead are yet unspoken

Our way of life, our way of thinking

Destroyed now by this bitter war

All as a way to settle the score’

 .

She stared out at the burning land

The battlefield, men’s fatal cries

The way the world looked through a bloody haze

Their world fueled by a revolted daze

And how men of both their races

Died on each other’s swords’ embraces

.

She watched as Siguard lead his troops

Out onto the battlefield

Where trumpets blared and soldiers roared

A torch to heat up their discord

Where people maimed and people died

All for this war based on pride

 .

Back to her temporary home she walked

The shouts of children around her mocked

The tragedy of this part of our history

And when her uncle found her there

In his voice there was despair

“Come now, quickly, your brother, Faihr

 .

He calls to you now, his wound is deep

There’s little time, Cienwen, before he’ll pass”

She stared at Uncle, uncomprehending

Her brother, wounded, about to die?

Her brother, twin, and young elf of Saeding

Fate was cruel, and she felt it’s sting

 .

She hurried to his bedside there

Where roses bloomed upon his sheets

Bloomed of blood, and want, and war

Where young elves died, the price of pride

As together, they said their final goodbyes

As his heart made its final cries

 .

And when he passed, a sorrowful wail

From those who mourned the loss of him

A bright young warrior, a handsome sight

A peaceful elf, a luminous light

And now I’ve lost him, now he’s gone

And yet the war around us, presses on

 .

A war on pride, a war on greed

A war sown by a bitter seed

That our fair people had to fight

That turned our light forest, into night

And now Cienwen lost what she held dear

And everything became suddenly achingly clear

 .

Well, she was prideful! Let them see!

Let them meet her at the great ash tree!

At its great branches, at its slender truck

There she would stop this fight, this blanket night

And she would make sure no more war

Ever came to their fair shore

 .

And in her fury, Cienwen went

And there she sang in grief and mourning

To the greatest old grey ash tree

She sang of despair, she sang of love

She sang of the future, of the stars above

She sang about the mourning dove

 .

She sang until she was nothing but the song

Until the world had done her no wrong

Until the elves began to come

To listen to her woeful hum

To listen to her sing her grief

To listen as she turned to leaf

 .

And as she sang, and as she hummed

The air around her thrummed

As she grew into the great ash tree

Tangled with the leaves and bark

Becoming one with the tree itself

Turning to tree from gentle elf

 .

And Cienwen sang until she was no more

Until she was tree, and nothing else

For she knew how to settle the score

And the elf’s fair beauty, the elf’s fair light

Came from within the tree, within the bark

Her limbs and branches in gentle arc

 .

And we wondered why, we wondered how

As we keened our grief, for her and her brother

Why would she do what she had done just now?

Was it out of grief, or out of madness?

To follow her brother? To escape this life?

To take leave of all this strife?

.

But yet we honored her, with her choice

 Giving her transfiguration a voice

We told the others, we told Siguard

Told her uncle, told her aunt

And we mourned the loss of not one but both

Of Tyfwr Eiddew’s gentle growth

 .

We mourned their beauty, their fierceness, their gifts

Fahir’s bravery, Cienwen’s peace

Both of their fervour for life and passion

And we laid Fahir near the great ash tree

Near where his sister had made her plea

And had turned herself within the solemn tree

 .

And the war went on, the war continued

With more dying, more crying

More mourning our losses

Until the day the winds had shifted

Until the day the leaves grew still

And suddenly, the forest contained a thrill

 .

A gentle singing, a gentle hum

Twirling leaves, and yet no breeze

A gentle foreboding, a saddened presence

Creaking trunks and no singing birds

Rippling roots, and shuddering trees

As the war began to freeze

.

For the elves and men alike

Grew frightened at the forest

Where the trees grew into traps

Branches held hostages

And the grass tangled limbs

And the men sung their hymns

 .

The battle that raged, the flames that ravaged

All quickly were extinguished

For fear of the forest’s retaliation

For though none had died,

 Both humans and elves

Were afraid for kin and themselves

.

For neither race had seen such a disturbance

In such a calm, old forest

But Siguard knew

And with the idea flew

To go to speak and see

Cienwen in the great ash tree

.

And once there, he knelt in the grass

On bended knee before the tree

‘Cienwen, tell me, are you there?

Cienwen, beauty,

Do you live within this tree?

Cienwen, will you answer me?’

 .

And he waited there, for a long while

Waiting for a sign, a voice, a whisper

And when there was none, he rose

Only to hear Cienwen’s gentle tones

Rise above the tumbling breeze

Sending him back to his knees

.

‘Siguard, I greet you

Yes, indeed I live

And the power I have within these limbs

Ought to frighten thee

Speak now to the great ash tree

For I am it, and it is me’

 .

The elven leader trembled, the elven leader shivered

For the power Cienwen wielded,

Was far beyond what was known

A great and terrible beauty

And yet she still resided within the tree

How it could be, Siguard could not see

 .

‘Siguard you have come to me,

If you wish now, speak to me

Let down your burdens, lighten the load

Tell me know what leaves your shoulders bowed

And if you so wish, if you desire

I’ll tell you what is truly dire’

 .

Our leader hesitated, stunned by Cienwen’s power

Stunned by her pure intuition

Stunned by this great ash tree

That Cienwen wielded, as part of her

So with fear and awe in part

His side of the tale he began to start

 .

‘Three days ago, and again, three nights

The Gwyrdd forest began to thrum

The birds didn’t’ sing, the wolves didn’t howl

And yet the forest breathed

Stirring the breeze and whispering threats

Giving all of us the sweats

 .

“And yet we continued battle,

Each trying to win with blood

Each trying to ignore the strangeness,

The shifting in the Gwyrdd

Where plants crawled, their creepers gently streaming,

The plant life green and teeming”

 .

He told of a forest writhing and alive

Who took both races into its depths

But yet kept both elf and man alive

Even when they could not be found

A warning, a signal, something more?

What did this forest abhor?

.

Cienwen and the tree sighed

When Siguard finished his tale

And with a whisper on the breeze

“Siguard, did I not tell you?

Did I not say?

This war on pride, this war on greed

This war sown by a bitter seed,

 .

“It must end, it must stop

Or the Gwyrdd will start to kill

And you may hack down every tree there forth –

But you will never succeed –

You must end this war, you must end this fight

Or you will feel the forest’s bite”

.

“Cienwen, why? Cienwen, when?

Why does the forest seek to kill?

For the need, or for the thrill?

Let me say, it is no thrill to kill?

Why make men suffer? Why make men die?

Why make poor people cry?”

 .

The whisper was sharp

The sting like a whip

“Siguard, what must I say to make you see?
You couldn’t see it before, but see it now!

This war must stop!

The cost must drop!

 .

“Your homes are destroyed

The braches broken

The numbers of dead are yet unspoken

Your way of life, your way of thinking

Destroyed now by this bitter war

All as a way to settle the score

 .

“None are winning, all have lost!

All at too high of cost

I lost my brother, you’ve lost your sons

And now I have power, now I have skill

And when I say, the trees will kill

Not for the power, not for the thrill

 .

“But to make you see, but to help you find

Look at the ground, saturated with blood

Places teeming with life, deserted

The burying ground full

And everybody grieving,

Wanting to be disbelieving”

 .

Siguard started, feeling frightened

Of what Cienwen had implied

A forest that could attack?
A forest that could maim?
What would cause this madness?
What would cause this sadness?
.
This war they fought, for pride, for glory,

Was to keep their way of life, their home, their children

And make sure that no man would overstep their borders

So why would Gwyrdd fight against them?

Why would it threaten, why would it warn?

Why would it be so set to mourn?

 .

Then it came to him, then he saw

What Cienwen had been saying all along

In mind’s eye, his youngest son

Embracing a sword’s cutting kiss

His eyes wide as he pulled it out in wonder

The embrace tearing him asunder

 .

How Siguard had roared, and quickly slain

The man who had killed young Ieuen.

How he had kissed his son goodbye

And had heard his mother’s cry

The pain he had felt, the sting of sorrow

Had made him fight harder, on the morrow

 .

And yet, and yet!

Multiplied by a hundred, a thousand

He began to feel the pain of what this war had caused

And with that, he let out a cry

“Cienwen, fair one, now I see

What you were trying to say to me

 .

“We’ve lost many elves

We’ve lost many people

With our homes destroyed

Blood spilled

 And lives in tatters

It’s not truly this war that matters

 .

“No, we must rebuild, make a truce,

Find our peace again

And remember this day

For this war shall end

This war shall finish

Before we diminish

 .

“It will be long, it will be hard

But we will save lives instead

Of cutting each other down

No more murder, no more death

We shall believe in peace and no more war

And we all shall restore”

 .

A contented sigh flew through the breeze

And Siguard finally took his leave

Finally understanding, finally aware

What he had brought his people through

And Cienwen, in the great ash tree

Knew Siguard could finally see

 .

So, in the days and weeks to come

The elves and the men had their talks

And it was decided, to end the war

As none had won, and all had lost

Together they would rebuild

Both races finally fulfilled

 .

And none forgot the great ash tree

None forgot fair Cienwen

And every year, when the trees blossom

And the jewelled birds sing their song

We honor her with our verses

And each of us converses

 .

For she is old, and she is wise

With her weeping branches,

She has seen as much as any elf

And anytime you need an answer

Cienwen can calm, Cienwen can help

Without scorn, and without a yelp

 .

For her beauty remains within her limbs

And all who see her do remember

What she did for elves and man

And how she controls the forest

A tree that was once an elf

An elf that fought herself

.

A young maiden who wanted to change

Who wanted peace, who wanted love

Who took the chance, who took the sacrifice

To fix what she believed broken

To who stopped a war

To who we adore

.

Okay. This one is long. And when I say long, it’s 2 566 words. This is the longest poem I have ever written, and I’m not even sure why it is so long. But, it’s a new experience. So, congrats if you got to the bottom of it, because it’s not my usual material.

So I’ll keep it short and sweet on this one. 

-          I’m not sure why this particular topic popped into my head, nor why I felt inclined to write a story about it. Though I have my suspicions on a week of having the flu and watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

I also admit to really enjoying a good fantasy novel ever once in a while, so who knows where I picked this up.

Other than that, I’m heading out to Toronto tonight to play in my last Nationals ever before I am done my club volleyball career. It will be really hard, both emotionally and physically. After all, we’ll have to fight for every point, every set, every game. And then…it’ll be done. And my days as a volleyball player will be over.

And then, two days later, it’s grad. It’s moving really, really fast, and I can’t believe how fast this year has flown by.

But enough on that. Have  a good long weekend (if you live in Canada), and if not, then enjoy, and thanks for reading all of this!

Find Me A River, Find Me A Dream

Find me a river

Find me a stream

Find me a place

Where I can dream

 

Under the willows

And under the sun

Find me a place

Where I can run

 

Past the garden

Past the creek

Find me a place

To be unique

 

Through the woods

And through the trees

Find me a place

To feel the breeze

 

Close to the meadow

Close to the field

Find me a place

That’s unrevealed

 

Next to the willow

And next to the sea

Find me a place

Where I can be me

 

Away from the town

Away from the farm

Find me a place

Where there’s no harm

 

Near the clouds

And near the stream

Find me a place

Where I can dream

 

Where I can lie

Beneath the sky

Find me a place

To never die

 

I think, sometimes, that we all wish that we could escape the present life we’re living. Get away from school, work. our families, our friends, our daily problems. Something inside us just shuts down, and that want to run, get away from it all, get to a place where we feel calm, and safe, and ourselves again.

I’m like that. Some days, when I’m up to my neck in school work, and volleyball, and family life and this and that, and oh my goodness, I have to get this done by that date, something inside me wants so badly to just get out of the city, away from it all. Go to the mountains, the farm, a summertime memory. Just get away from everything that is overwhelming me.

We live in a world that is so go-go-go, get this done, that done, keep on your toes, etc. We are always on our smartphones and the internet, always connected to the world. We sleep with our phones within a arm’s length, check Facebook and Twitter when we go to bed, then when we wake up, watch the news while we eat breakfast, get a text asking about a class in the morning. It’s a constant input of information, constant this and that. And we’re expected to take it all in, get good marks in school, work, play a sport, this that. It’s hectic. My own family is running seven days a week between my brother’s soccer and volleyball, my other brother’s karate, my volleyball, dad’s work, mom’s work. And it never stops.

It’s such a fast-paced planet that we hardly get a chance to breathe. I end up missing those summer days where I could just sit with a good book, and not worry about university applications, work, what I’m going to do, and somebody said this, so I should look it up…

No. I want simpler times. A place for me to breathe, to sit, to finally relax. To get healthy again. To not worry about a million different things, and a thousand different other things that are outside of my control.

But for now, I have to be content to sit in a windowless room while I slave away at math and bio and science, things that not only am I not good at, but things that I hate doing. For now, all I can do is push through, and hope that with the summer sun will come a time where I can sit and finally breathe.

Beyond The Wintery Walls

When the wings

Of a black bird sings

A song of wonder

A song of hope

My heart flutters

Looking for wonders

 

Far beyond these kitchen walls

Something brighter calls

It tells of summer

It tells of spring

My eyes widen

And look to hide in

 

The call of the dance

Of summery days

A time of freedom

A time of heat

When I could live

And I could give

 

My heart to another

Someone new

Handsome

And true

When I could dance

And sweet romance

 

With the man of summer’s hue

Sun kissed and smiling

Laughing

Dancing

There we would lie

Under a drunken sky

 

With the wine of summer’s dew

Drunk on sun

Drunk on you

Intoxicated hearts

Like stealing tarts

 

From the window pane

Where I’m the same

Dark kitchen walls

Dark peeling halls

Summer’s gone

It’s winter’s dawn

 

And love is gone

Where it once shone

Like summery sun

Like flowers sprung

And now, I’m alone

I’m winter’s own

 

- Another poem. This one is a little late; I’ve been super sick. Think bronchial infection mixed with ear infection mixed with the flu from last week. So while I meant to post this right after the quote, I, unfortunately, could barley muster the energy to go to school, and then to volleyball practice, where I could barley move. Excuses, I know. Oops.

Anyways, this poem. A little different, and I’m not quite sure where in the world it came from. I’m thinking is stems from my and my best friend’s talk about guys, love, summer, winter, fall. And it all kinda fell into my head in the format you see above. 

How many movies in one’s lifetime, how many books, do we read and see about summer romances? Grease, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, Dear John, The Last Song, etc. But sometimes we don’t get to see what happens after the happy couple finally get together. What do they do? What happens if they break up? What happens if it doesn’t work out? Then what? That’s kind of how I read this poem, and kind of the story behind it. A young girl has a summer romance, that ends when the leaves begin to fall. But she really did like him, and now, she’s alone again in her home, that reflects, in  way, how her heart is – dark, and in need of a reno, so to speak.

One thing to note on this one, is that the girl in the poem is not me. I had a quick summer fling a year ago, when I was out of town, but it barley lasted long enough to get it off the ground, and I can hardly count it as a relationship. In fact, I was the one who broke it off fairly quickly. But that also make me think; was I too quick, too harsh? Was I only afraid to give it a chance? Is that why I’m afraid that I’ll be the one alone while all my friends get married? Then I remember, that I’m not the only person who wonders if they are going to be ‘forever alone’. Everybody is afraid, to some extent, that they will never find ‘the one’, or find somebody who loves them, flaws and all. It’s just harder when you feel like you are alone in feeling that way.

So, I’m waiting for love, and hoping, in a secret way, that I’ll find a summer romance…and be able to keep it longer than the summer heat. Because when that fades, there’s nothing left but cold. And I want someone to be there through the cold. Trivial, in it’s own way, but true.

Dancing Stars

Dancing stars

And flying kites

Away on the wings

Of nightingale’s flight

Into the night

Of glittery glow

Of whispering wind

And wuthering song

Muted moon

And silvery stars

Dancing in the arms

Of slippery shadows

Twirling haze

Of flowing fog

Of murmuring mist

And whispering willows

Nightingales wings

Swaying in the song

Swirling in the shadows

Dancing in the stars

How dramatic. Makes me sound like a desperate teen with shadowy thoughts. This is not a poem about death or shadows or any of that. Instead, it is inspired by a night on the farm on a misty night when the moon a shadowy orb that barley lit the sky. And truly, when you walked, you could almost see the mist swirl, like a misty horror movie. It was beautiful and eerie at the same time. So the poised, peachy poem you have here.

The Prairie Daze

The sway, the sway

Of golden grains

A golden day

Of sighing song

 

The song, the song

Of swallows flight

On autumn’s song

Of swirling breeze

 

The breeze, the breeze

Of warm caress

A whispering tease

Of falling sun

 

The sun, the sun

Of glowing life

On prairie dun

Of wheat fields sway

 

The sway, the sway,

Of golden grains

A golden day

Of sighing song

 

The song, the song

Of crickets singing

On a twilight gong

Of the ending day

 

 

I thought I would try something a little different; writing within a certain amount of syllables. While I usually stick to my own made up rules, I’ll try to keep it sounding good, over the rules I set. So, this was a quick experiment, that I will have to decide it if worked, later.

The Song

Black clouds that gather

And cover the sun

The storm on the horizon

Finally come

The rain drops that fall

Like the sprinkling of dust

The sound of the call

To come and dance

The music of rain

As it falls to the ground

The rhythm that comes with the

Whispering sound

The song that is gentle

Like a soft lullaby

Water lulling to sleep

As it falls from the sky

- Ah the rain. I love the rain the way that everything smells so fresh after a downpour. Though, admittedly, I would take the heat over a grey gross day anytime, but there’s something about a summer storm that is invigorating. The way the thunder rolls, the lightning flashing across the sky, the fresh smell of the rain. I love it. Thus, the poem for you here today.

September

The coolness of the dewy grass

Smooth against my feet

Tickles as I move

And whispers as I speak

The giggling of the gentle creek

Rippling over stones

Shining in the sunlight

And singing to me sweetly

The gentleness of the setting sun

Streaming through the trees

Illuminating shadow

And warming with delight

The last moment of a perfect day

Fades to somewhere else

September is upon us

And frost is in the air

 

 

- School is heavily on my mind right now. After all, this is my final year in high school, and there are some huge decisions to be made! University, courses, friends, and grad are all at the forefront of my mind. It’ll be nice to see those people that I was not able to see all summer, but at the same time, it’s intimidating. Some of my friends left for university in August, and that was quite the reality check. But I’ll get through the rest of the summer sitting contently in the summer sun and enjoying that precious single day before textbooks and teachers.

Sunshine and Rainstorms

When I wanted to feel like

My life was worth living

Tangled in the threads

Tangled in the strands

Of us

When we danced in the rain

Bare feet on the pavement

The grey rain sighing

The grey rain singing

Of us

When we both laid down

On the wet spring green grass

Telling a new day

Telling a story

Of us

When the sun shone

Trees dripping with sunlight

Highlighting a time

Highlighting a flash

Of us

When you told me you loved me

Light in your honest eyes

Showing a new truth

Showing a new life

For us.

 

 

- Love poems. Sometimes cute, sometimes not so much. Though I will be the first to admit I have never been in love, I will also admit that love is not about the first sight. It is not about the ‘sex appeal’ or the ‘look’. It’s about that person. It’s about the way that they look at you. It’s the way that when you fight, how you deal with it. I have seen enough relationships fail – hem hem, Hollywood, anybody? – but I have also seen my Grandparents celebrate their fifty-first anniversary this year. I’ve seen my friend’s hearts broken, and a few relationships gone wrong, but I’ve also seen those couples whose love is reflected in the way their rings fit on their clasped hands. I’m far from the first person to run to when you need a little love advice, but I’m also far from the last.

The Dance Forgotten

When life was a song, and the song a dance

I would dance and sing, and sing and dance

I would find myself in the beat of the rain

When there was nothing left but all the pain

I would climb the trees of time forgotten

When history was made and history forgotten

When times were simpler, and full of life

I would remember those times, in the night

What sounds better than a howling wolf?

Singing about life as a lonely sad wolf

Singing to the lovely lonely silver moon

What sounds better, in the month of June?

High above in golden trees forgotten

A time of dark that I’ve forgotten

A time of blooming in the summer nights

High where I would come

And come to life.

 

 

And something a little different from most of the poetry I have written, a little more abstract. I will admit that I just let the words flow, looking for a little something that would give feeling rather than a pure play of words. Those are the poems that when they flow, you repeat them in your head for hours, just thinking about it. I was going for for feeling that anything else, and I feel that I might have accomplished it. Not my best work, by far, but something to share. Any feedback is welcome!

Nighttide

The stars that were beacons in the night

The moon that showed her face

The black of the sky, as we rushed underneath

The enchantment, vivid to the mind

The calm of the night that was comforting

The sound of the breeze that soothed

The beat of my heart as it slowed

The hope that the night would last

The sound of my breathing that calmed me

The rustle of grass as it swayed

The way that I felt, when he held me

The way that my life was changed

The tranquility that seemed to fill me

The way the sky was ablaze

The idea that life seemed so perfect

The feeling that time never ended

The calmness of just one moment

The way everything felt just right

The sweetness that I had experienced

The lusciousness that filled my whole soul

The stars that glittered when they danced

The moon that glowed with pride

The inky sky as we lay underneath

The moments one never forget.

 

 

- Now this is a poem close to my heart. A true experience, a true feeling, a true story. I love this poem because it reminds me of a summer night in the Alberta countryside where two people felt right together, with no awkward explanations, no strangeness, and no need to fill the silence of the night. Because, for that couple hours, that was all anybody needed. A peaceful silence charged with the stars and moon shining up high, crickets singing, low hoots of owls, and the few shooting stars that we wished upon. Nothing happened that night, other than that pure comfort that one rarely finds in this busy world underneath the city lights – not to mention the light pollution and the constant noise, noise, noise, where true peace is hard to find. But this one night was perfect, a night I will never forget.