Jubal's poems

[Jubal]

Ballad of the Pholidota

I've been to many foreign shores
C                          Am          C
But of all I saw across the seas
G                        Am
One creature stood most strange of all
C                                     Am            C
The beast called the pangolin!
Am                           Em     Am

She'd scales for a skin, so
Am                        C
Her foes could never win-oh,
G                                Am
One creature stood most strange of all
Am                                    C
And they called her Pangolin, o!
G                                    Em   Am

I've been to many foreign shores
But of all I saw across the seas
One creature stood most strange of all
The beast called the pangolin!

She'd scales for a skin, so
Her foes could never win-oh,
One creature stood most strange of all
And they called her Pangolin, o!

She'd armour all along her back
And claws so sharp and tail so strong
She stood there like a faery knight
Thus her tale does begin..

She'd scales for a skin, so
Her foes could never win-oh,
She stood there like a faery knight
And they called her Pangolin, o!

Well first she fought the termite horde
Went marching to their fortress grand
She smote their walls with claws like steel
And slew them all within!

She'd scales for a skin, so
Her foes could never win-oh,
She smote their walls with claws like steel
And they called her Pangolin, o!

Then next a lion roared at her
But she stood firm and she held fast,
She curled up in her armour bold
And he could not get in!

She'd scales for a skin, so
Her foes could never win-oh,
She curled up in her armour bold
And they called her Pangolin, o!

Yet as all heroes, she did fall
When grasping giants she did meet
The giants boiled her in a pot
To serve her to their kin!

She'd scales for a skin, so
Her foes could never win-oh,
Yet giants boiled her in a pot
And they called her Pangolin, o!

But there are more of these brave knights,
That we should aid and honour true,
So raise a glass and raise your voice
For the wond'rous pangolin!

She'd scales for a skin, so
Her foes could never win-oh,
So raise a glass and raise your voice
And call her Pangolin, o!

She'd scales for a skin, so
Her foes could never win-oh,
So raise a glass and raise your voice
And call her Pangolin, o!

Chords:

Spoiler

I've been to many foreign shores
C                          Am          C
But of all I saw across the seas
G                        Am
One creature stood most strange of all
C                                     Am            C
The beast called the pangolin!
Am                           Em     Am

She'd scales for a skin, so
Am                        C
Her foes could never win-oh,
G                                Am
One creature stood most strange of all
Am                                    C
And they called her Pangolin, o!
G                                    Em   Am

[Jubal]

Our Shadow

What's the shadow falling
In the dark behind your eyes?
What's the night wind calling
As it whistles softly by?

It's a voice always a stranger's
And a cold that starts to creep
One the gnaws at you by daylight
Leaves you too afraid to sleep

It's a voice that's always been there
Since the earth was new and bare,
And when the final light is dimmed
Its chill will still be there

The Greeks and Romans knew it too,
But would not grant it fame
Of all the powers of sea or sky
One god they dared not name.

The shadow is our loneliness
It fights the light forever
So yes, I'll march to hell and back
- but please let's march together.

[Jubal]

No prizes for guessing who's been to a ceilidh recently. For those who don't know, the rosza is essentially a ceilidh waltz, by far the most common you'll find called. And if you want to know how to dance it, this poem gives a rough description! A more condensed form of the steps is available here.

The Devil's Dance

Don't ever dance a rosza,
Not by night or shining day;
For it's the devil's dance, and it
Will steal your heart away.

You hang upon their fingertips,
As right and left you sway,
Then turn into each others' arms,
And hear the music say,

Don't ever dance a rosza,
Not by night or shining day;
For it's the devil's dance, and it
Will steal your heart away.

Step left, step left, and right and right,
Then out of the hold you spin,
The band plays on, your heart is trapped;
You listen to it sing,

Don't ever dance a rosza,
Not by night or shining day;
For it's the devil's dance, and it
Will steal your heart away.

Step in, then out, with right hands held,
You're lost within their eyes
Turn under, steps, then turn again;
Your hunted heart it cries,

Don't ever dance a rosza,
Not by night or shining day;
For it's the devil's dance, and it
Will steal your heart away.

And then at last the ballroom hold,
Your hearts pressed close and near,
And as you waltz, entrapped, entranced,
You may just faintly hear,

Don't ever dance a rosza,
Not by night or shining day;
For it's the devil's dance, and it
Will steal your heart away.

[Jubal]

Two new ones (I wasn't just doing politics at LD conference...)

Rivermoon

I remember a time when the world seemed more free,
When the moon was a river that flowed on the sea.

Hope had I then
On a green-golden day,
Where the petals were falling
To run down the way,
To where half the wide world nestled in an oak tree,
Where the moon was a river that flowed on the sea.

The earth it is open,
We close it by choice;
Choosing fear as our master
And rage as our voice,
In the harsh tread of life people choose not to be
Where the moon is a river that flows on the sea.

And the walls, closing down,
Spread the fear ever more,
But no ship will bear us
There is no safe shore;
And as much as we will it, we still cannot flee,
Down the moon, the white river, that flows on the sea.

So then help me, my friend,
As the candles burn low,
For there's light to be kindled
And seeds yet to sow,
For our children - and theirs - join hands now with me,
And remember the river that flows on the sea.

For every cloud passes, and sets the moon free;
And its river, forever, shines on out to sea.



In Memory of Forgetfulness

Memories
Are not forever young
They blur and age and melt - and grow
Like secrets passed
From tongue to whispered tongue
Like drips flow out from ice to crystal snow.

And so
For memory we mourn
As things fall out of place in slow decay,
We lose the joy we feel when comes the dawn,
In shadows at the fading of the day.

But in that haze,
The blurring of the mind,
A whirl of colour spins and paints anew,
Each memory fractures, yet repays in kind,
With newfound thoughts the days we kept it through.

Weep not, then,
When memory recedes
And takes past glories soft into the night.
Past forests, faltering,
Sow tomorrow's seeds,
New thoughts to bring, afresh, tomorrow's light.

[Jubal]

Fear Not

Fear not the day, they said,
When the silence falls;
When the lost ones huddle cold
Beneath the lamplit walls.

Fear not the time, they said,
When those who can will flee,
Better off alone, they said,
To stare to open sea.

Fear not the sight, they said,
Of streets in disrepair,
The old with none to care for them,
The young their pockets bare.

Fear only this, they said;
That others take what's yours
Fear for the scraps you own
And close the open doors.

I am afraid my country's flower
Is broken at the stem -
But this I pledge, for all my fear
I shall not fear them.

[Jubal]

The Herald of Frost

The herald of frost he drew his sword,
And galloped through the scene;
The leaves swirled round his horse's hooves,
Trees lost their coats of green,
For the glory of his queen.

The herald of frost he blew his horn,
And winds roared through the land,
The sky grew cruel, the earth grew naught,
By the workings of his hand,
Just as his queen had planned.

The herald of frost he called his name,
And dressed in a dead-leaf cloak,
From pavement's grey to nature's earth,
All things fell to his yoke,
As his queen's commands he spoke.

The herald of frost had raiments brown,
But at last they turned to white,
The trees, now bare, would shine with frost,
From the first short rays of light,
To the fall of winter's night.

The herald of frost he bowed his head,
And shed a single tear,
His Queen she came, and soon she'll leave,
'til he shall reappear;
For November he comes each year.

[Cuddly Khan]

It's not like he takes a vacation for the rest of the year, he's just moved to the southern hemisphere.

[Jubal]

That's basically a vacation

[Jubal]

So a friend recently posted the viral thing of asking people to post how they met but not tell the truth, looking for the most interesting responses. This was mine:

A Strange Meeting

By forest tree and tower cold,
We met by streams that swiftly ran,
That washed beneath the lime-green skies,
From mountains dark where they began.

To stay a while and tarry there,
Bethought not one or both of we,
For there did grow the wyrling-fruit,
That grew upon a tulgey tree.

The fruit we shunned, the forest too,
Down fulgent streams we wandered on,
To where the brandips make their homes,
And rest beneath a purple sun

Rejoicing in their mimsy pools,
The brandips laughed and gaily played,
'til when the year turned syrup-sour,
One of us left, the other stayed.

There parted we, in brandip-halls,
The one to stay; the other, go,
To where the thunder-gnats fly fast,
And gently falls the pulchrous snow.



This second one was written for a poet interweb-friend of mine, for her birthday:

Cloudspoken

A day is born, a cloud will form,
That passes in a dappled sky,
That whitens ere the passing storm,
That wanders where the birds may fly.

Where light it wanders over sea,
Or pauses on a mountain height,
And yet the cloud must burdened be
With all that falls beneath its sight

Another year the sun sets on,
And falls in golden filigree;
In golden reds the cloud moves on,
That drank the mead of poetry.


And this one is just silly:

My Donkey

Alack and alas, I had a little ass,
And it said hee-haw hee-haw;
But away it went,
To heaven it was sent,
And my donkey was no more, no more,
My donkey was no more.

[comrade_general]

Donkey one is what I'm talkin' 'bout.

[Jubal]

Why are you talking about my ass? Rather personal.

[Jubal]

It's been a while - first poem for this thread of 2017!

On Threads of Silk
Wine-dark the languid silks hang down,
Adorning walls with Tyrian dyes,
Where ghost-lights play,
I tread my way,
Beneath the eagle's watchful eyes,
Beneath the wings that time defies.

I trespass here in times far gone,
The threads that bind us woven thin,
And colours flow,
That boldly show
Prides and hopes and foe and kin,
That some lost hand has woven in.

Wine-dark they hang there, warp and weft,
The art of ages past and yet
Still-present threads,
In purple-reds;
Their makers shall not e'er forget,
Whose hands and mine these threads have met.

[Jubal]

The Nothingness

I lost my face in a game of dice,
I lost my hands to ice and snow,
I lost my heart to a roving lass,
I lost my hair to a dark fire's glow.

I lost my legs in a winter storm,
I lost my dreams in an autumn fog,
I lost my eyes to the turning years,
I lost my sleep to a fallen log.

I lost these things and so much more,
And yet am vast beyond compare...
For I am nothing, nothing more;
But nothingness is everywhere.

[Jubal]

Tarasthalay

Perhaps there's a land where the bluebells grow
In song and silence shadowing, in hope and hopeful flowering,
Where soft are the summers and brief the snow,
In leaf and root meadow-grown
In Tarasthalay

Perhaps there's a land that is over the sea,
Past great grey sails billowing, and breeze and zephyr following,
Where the harbours are sound and there's light in a window
In welcome and kindness
In Tarasthalay

Perhaps, o perhaps, there too shall go I,
And never more a-tarrying where cold gales oft are harrowing
I shall build the world found in my mind's quiet eye
And on earth and in hope-song
Build Tarasthalay

Chords:

Spoiler

Perhaps there's a land where the bluebells grow
G                           D                                     G
In song and silence shadowing, in hope and hopeful flowering,
C                              G                     D                         Em
Where soft are the summers and brief the snow,
C                             G                                 D
In leaf and root meadow-grown
Em                   
In Tarasthalay
G          D

[Jubal]

Displacement

I sit in hope that dimming light
Will move me on another day
To tales I someday hope to write
Where mind-eyes smile and thoughts can play.
And the old city breathes out slow

I sit connected and alone
A paradox in fading glow
I am a thousand miles from home
This is the home I shall now know
And the old city breathes out slow

I sit before a pompous past
That sleeps before a falling sun
To write anew my tale at last
My pen ne'er falls, my work undone
And the old city breathes out slow

I sit here like a babe newborn
That cannot read and cannot speak
I, young and old and new and worn
Am changing each and every week
And the old city breathes out slow

It all changes, all we are, you know;
Even the city, as it breathes... so... slow.