Jubal's poems

[Jubal]

Wrote this a little while back for an anthology but it turned out to be surplus to requirements for that (they did already have a longish short story of mine which will be included), so here it is:

A Lost Poet in Dunsinane

Will these hands ne'er be clean?
Scrubbing until my knuckles lie raw
With royal blood they still lie stained
Blue

Poised, my weapon lies in a peerless might
Before which swords weep
(With red tears, for they cannot weep blue –
Not like the sharp point whose
Handle is towards my hand
Clutched and staining
My hand)

It is not the difficulty of washing that condemns
Stained eternity to my soft but calloused fingers
But this reality: that whenever that weapon
Is returned to its dark scabbard
It longs to be free again
I long to free it again
To free the words
That torment me.

They are my words, you know:
And is it for that that they madden me all the more
For nobody else can hear them
Rhymes and lines beating at cage-bars,
Insensible to feeling or to sight,
Driving me to their command, to let them go free,
Shedding them like royal blue bloodstains
Flooding and crowding in imagined forests
From my
Pen
And staining my hands
Which will ne'er be clean
Until that last syllable of recorded time
Which never comes.

[Jubal]

The Ballad of Gham si Gham

Written in honour of the minor NPC Gam si Gam or Gham si Gham (not sure of spelling) in Lorn Song of the Bachelor, where he was randomly generated from tables as a recruit after the mage decided to Charm Person a new hireling for us. A semi-pro dire eel wrestler, he had some fights with albino cave crocodiles at the end of the campaign, getting rescued once by my character shooting a crossbow bolt and distracting one and then just about getting away from a second. The party then proceeded to go into the boss' stupa/longhouse, defeat some double-crossing catfish pirates, and trick the actual main demigod level villain into surrendering his powers while drunk.

Dire eel wrestler,
G
Semi-professional,
G
Bumped into a glowing eyed mage,
G                                           C
Now he's out of the mud,
                G
And he's risking his blood,
               D
And he's up on the crocodile stage,
               Em

And he said
"Call that a death roll?
Em
This is a death roll!"
Am
Doing the best that he can,
Am                              G
Gham si gham!
Am

Dire eel wrestler,
Semi-professional,
Bumped into a glowing eyed mage,
Now he's out of the mud,
And he's risking his blood,
And he's up on the crocodile stage,

And he said
"Call that a death roll?
This is a death roll!"
Doing the best that he can,
Gham si gham!

Poison fish in its gut,
He was holding on but,
Took a cut to the leg from its bite,
Crossbow bolt in its eye,
Ran over the ice to die,
But Gham had another to fight,

He said
"Call that a death roll?
This is a death roll!"
Fighting as hard as he can,
Gham si gham!

Tried to lasso its jaw,
But it opened to roar:
It was time to get out of the way,
Swam like only he knew
The survivor of two,
Cave crocodile showdowns that day

He said
"Call that a death roll?
This is a death roll!"
Faster than fishes he swam,
Gham si gham!

Then some catfish got kicked,
And a demigod tricked,
And a temple collapsed before long,
Then back to home and fame,
As they shouted his name,
And they all started singing this song,

And they sang
"Call that a death roll?
This is a death roll!"
Doing the best that he can,
Gham si gham!
"Call that a death roll?
This is a death roll!"
Mighty croc-wrestling man,
Gham si gham!

[Ierne]

oh, that's a lot of fun

[Jubal]

Zedeck Siew, who wrote the module Lorn Song of the Bachelor on which this is based, said listening to the recording of it made his day, so that's one of the nicest things that happened to me this week

[Jubal]

And another piece based on the same D&D campaign:

The Lorn Song of the Bachelor
(Inna wa Inna's Song)

But now your strength has grown, my love,
C                                         G               Em
Your jaws with razor teeth they shine,
       Am                      Em
Your claws are fast, my strong one,
      Am                           E
You turn away from what once was mine
    Am                                E             Am

We become what we become
    Am                    Em
Our old selves never last,
   Am                         Em
A river song to swim along,
  Am                  Em       G
Forgetting verses past
Am           C         Am

A thief came and stole,
   C
The key to your soul,
      G                 Em
And you no longer hear your bride,
             C                              G
So your power it grows,
           Am
But each crocodile knows,
              C               Em
That it still has a soft underside
           Am                           C        G

We become what we become
Through years that pale and die,
A river song to swim along,
Reflecting open sky.

A ghostly memory, my love,
Is all that you retain of me,
To heart you clasp, my strong one,
A wronged man's nobility

We become what we become
A cursed pair betrayed,
A river song to swim along,
With notes that never fade

But now your strength has grown, my love,
Your jaws with razor teeth they shine,
Your claws are fast, my strong one,
You turn away from what once was mine

We become what we become
Our old selves never last,
A river song to swim along,
Forgetting verses past

A thief came and stole,
The key to your soul,
And you no longer hear your bride,
So your power it grows,
But each crocodile knows,
That it still has a soft underside

The years dimmed your revenge, my love,
But never brought you back to me,
They fear you now, my strong one,
And feared is what you hope to be

We become what we become
From love to hurt to greed,
A river song to swim along,
To where your hunger leads

This lorn song for a bachelor,
Like time and rivers onward wends,
Are you still my strong one?
When will our journey meet its end?

We become what we become
Through years that pale and die,
A river song to swim along,
Reflecting open sky.

[Ierne]

my goodness that's beautiful I love it, especially the imagery of the chorus

[Jubal]

What do the hills say?

What do the hills say?
Am
Brother, my brother,
Em
What do the hills say?
Am
They say we marched on a pauper's pay
C                                         G           Em
And hunger took some along the way,
C                                         G           Em
That's what the hills say, brother mine!
Am                      Em                Am

What do the hills say?
Brother, my brother,
What do the hills say?
They say we marched on a pauper's pay
And hunger took some along the way,
That's what the hills say, brother mine!

Why do the hills weep?
Brother, my brother,
Why do the hills weep?
For like summer wheat that the farmers reap,
They fell on us til the bones lay deep,
That's why the hills weep, brother mine!

What do the hills cry?
Brother, my brother,
What do the hills cry?
They say the dragon never more shall fly,
Where a thousand march and a thousand die
That's what the hills cry, brother mine!

What do the hills know?
Brother, my brother,
What do the hills know?
Nothing but that they'll tell you so,
A thousand hurts and a tale of woe,
That's what the hills know, brother mine!

How now shall the hills fare?
Brother, my brother,
How now shall the hills fare?
A blade and a curse on our foes I'll swear,
And another for the serpents who led us there,
That's how we'll fare, o brother mine!

[Jubal]

The Flower of Charas

Oh, the flower of Charas,
C              Am
The rose in the spring,
     G
It's for her we'll be fighting like lions and boars
           Am              C                 G             Em
For of all of the flowers on Calradian shores,
           Am         C                    G           Em
She's the one that I'll pluck for my king!
              A,                 G                  C

The flowers of Charas they are bonny and fair,
      Am                                       Em
With long and dark petals that blow in the air,
       F                                         C                 G
But take up your lance and get up on your steed,
      C                                           Am
For between you and them there lies many a weed.
      Am                                                 Em       Am

Oh, the flower of Charas,
The rose in the spring,
It's for her we'll be fighting like lions and boars
For of all of the flowers on Calradian shores,
She's the one that I'll pluck for my king!

The flowers of Charas they are bonny and fair,
With long and dark petals that blow in the air,
But take up your lance and get up on your steed,
For between you and them there lies many a weed.

Oh, the flower of Charas,
The rose in the spring,
It's for her we'll be fighting like lions and boars
For of all of the flowers on Calradian shores,
She's the one that I'll pluck for my king!

The flowers of Charas they have stems tall and fine,
And a rare fragrant perfume and pitchers of wine,
It's no wonder the king wants his garden down there,
Where there aren't many plants but the flowers are rare,

Oh, the flower of Charas,
The rose in the spring,
It's for her we'll be fighting like lions and boars
For of all of the flowers on Calradian shores,
She's the one that I'll pluck for my king!

The flowers of Charas open best in the eve,
Though home may be far off you never shall grieve,
For when the battle's over and daylight has flown,
Then find you a flower to impress for your own,

Oh, the flower of Charas,
The rose in the spring,
It's for her we'll be fighting like lions and boars
For of all of the flowers on Calradian shores,
She's the one that I'll pluck for my king!

[Ierne]

what do the hills say is incredibly powerful, I love it

[Jubal]

Song of Softness

When you are a baby,
E7                      Am
Let your pillows be soft,
              Am          Em
The weak fire of new life
      Am                      C
They will cushion from harm
               C                  Em
In your mother's arms
E                         Am

When you are a baby,
Let your pillows be soft,
The weak fire of new life
They will cushion from harm
In your mother's arms

When you are a child,
Let your pillows be soft,
The sandy tumbles of youth
Will lead you to dreams
But time onward streams

When you are a young man
Let your pillows be soft,
The joyful silk drapes of love
That will fruit in the sun,
Sweet for the young

When you are a warrior
Let your pillows be soft,
The warm cushions of home
Let them soften your blade,
When war shall fade

When you are an old man
Let your pillows be soft,
All of the glory you found,
And friends that you had,
Feast and be glad

When you must pass from us
Let your pillows be soft,
Wool bundles of life
That soar up as clouds,
There rest you now.

[Jubal]

The Tears of the Bokhon
(Song of the Khuzait Hunters)

The first wind blows green and fast
Em                   Am              Em
As its hooves fly on unending grass
Em                           G              Em
I stand at the turn of the season
  Em                 Am             Em
And I am the tears of the Bokhon
      Em           G                Em

The first wind blows green and fast
As its hooves fly on unending grass
I stand at the turn of the season
And I am the tears of the Bokhon

The second wind blows gold and dry
As it canters through eternal sky
These are the lands that my shafts roam
Where I am the tears of the Bokhon

The third wind blows brown and pale,
And I take its place as the gale
I hunt and I feed as a beast grown
And I am the tears of the Bokhon

The fourth wind blows blue and chill
From sunlight the dark drinks his fill
Where once there were herds lie the cold bones
And I am the tears of the Bokhon

The fifth wind flows in my rage
As I see the end I have made
My fire in my greed burning my home
As I shed a tear for the Bokhon.

[Jubal]

Shieldmaiden, shieldmaiden

Shieldmaiden, shieldmaiden!
Am                  G
The wild geese are flying
      Em                    Am
The cloaked crow is crying
       Em                    Am
To call you to war
   G               Em

Crops have now grown that we cut with the sword-arm
  C                     G                                           Am
And arm rings and fine things lie south to be won
  F                                                Em
So now leave the warm hearth, the home and the fireside,
     Am                   C                          Em                  Am
And weave only fates that are already spun.
       Am              C                     G          Em

Shieldmaiden, shieldmaiden!
The wild geese are flying
The cloaked crow is crying
To call you to war

Crops have now grown that we cut with the sword-arm
And arm rings and fine things lie south to be won
So now leave the warm hearth, the home and the fireside,
And weave only fates that are already spun.

Shieldmaiden, shieldmaiden!
The wild geese are moving
The cloaked crow is brooding
So come to the door

Or how will your family know peace in the winter,
How will you give golden gifts in your hall?
How will the bitten coal glow at your naming,
If you heed not the crow-crying, stout shield's call?

Shieldmaiden, shieldmaiden!
The wild geese at wing
The cloaked crow is watching
Where cold iron is law

And just as the wolf knows the sheep is his prey now,
And geese know to fly south when spring brings the light,
As the cloaked crow cannot help but sit and sing doom-song,
So know you fate's bidding to roam and to fight

Shieldmaiden, shieldmaiden!
The wild geese are flying
The cloaked crow is crying
To call you to war
Where now you shall take wing
And sword-arms shall soar.

[Jubal]

The Hall of Absent Friends

Do you remember
    G        C
The glowing ember
      G          C
Of fires we sat by in times gone past
    G            C            G        D       Em
When all together
          Em      C
We swore forever
       G          Em
To meet here at the last
    Em             D        Em

So I'll raise a glass
         G          D
For absent friends
      G         C
Who on their travels go
   G                D          C
For the road is long
            G          D
Wherever its end
         G         C
That leads from where we know
        G                  D          C

Do you remember
The glowing ember
Of fires we sat by in times gone past?
When all together
We swore forever
To meet here at the last.

So I'll raise a glass
For absent friends
Who on their travels go
For the road is long
Wherever its end
That leads from where we know.

Some are chasing silver,
For a purse of leather,
May they soon return with coin for wine!
But if luck betrays them,
And their purse is frayed then
They can share this cup of mine.

So I'll raise a glass
For absent friends
Who on their travels go
For the road is long
Wherever its end
That leads from where we know.

Some have gone to battle
For to test their mettle
And some to follow love's soft call,
But some still singing
When day is dimming
Will meet here in this hall

So I'll raise a glass
For absent friends
Who on their travels go
For the road is long
Wherever its end
That leads from where we know.

Let the lyre play ever,
Through each season's weather,
And let custom be remembered yet,
By eternal law bade
And by fire's roar made
Here let absent friends be met.

So I'll raise a glass
For absent friends
Who on their travels go
For the road is long
Wherever its end
That leads from where we know.

[dubsartur]

Jubal, I wanted to say you are brave and awesome.  I like singable and memorizable songs, but I was never good at hooking up with the right nerdy communities that like those, and I never published the songs I write.  For a while now I have not been able to be creative, I am too scared and too alienated.

I am sorry I am not very coherent

[Jubal]

The White Moth of Battania

As I was a walking to Seonon fair,
   G             C              G           D
All down the green valleys was song in the air
   G                          D                 Em             D
And there came a fine lady as fair as the day,
               Em                G                           C
Like a white moth she hovered and floated away.
          G                      Em                              D

From the high eastern mountains
              G                         Em
To Pen Cannoc hill,
    G                 D
She's the white moth of Battania
                C                         G   Em
And it's her I seek still
           D                Em

As I was out walking to Seonon fair,
All down the green valleys was song in the air
And there came a fine lady as fair as the day,
Like a white moth she hovered and floated away.

From the high eastern mountains
To Pen Cannoc hill,
She's the white moth of Battania
And it's her I seek still

I asked an old peddler for who she might be,
And he smiled and he said I might just have to see,
For there's few that have seen her and fewer who know,
Where the white moth she flies and wherever she goes.

From the high eastern mountains
To Pen Cannoc hill,
She's the white moth of Battania
And it's her I seek still

And the next time I saw her, that winsome white elf,
I asked her to dance, as she danced by herself,
And we danced us six dances as eve turned to night,
She the pale moth, but I who flew up to her light

From the high eastern mountains
To Pen Cannoc hill,
She's the white moth of Battania
And it's her I seek still

Then she left with no word and no thought did confess,
But she left me a ribbon from off her white dress,
So I'll tie it at my heart and green I shall wear,
And I'll seek her again wheresoever she fare.

From the high eastern mountains
To Pen Cannoc hill,
She's the white moth of Battania
And it's her I seek still.



Dubsartur: Thank you! Creativity is tricky and comes and goes - it's very random for me, at the moment I seem to be capable of writing songs at an absurd pace but can't do any research and struggle to keep up with basic personal functionality. It's an important outlet for me but sometimes I'm on full blast and sometimes I'll go months and just struggle to put words in order. Hang on in there - creativity, and indeed coherence, will come back, it's a difficult time. And if you ever feel like sharing any of the things you have written, I'd be very interested to have a look.