Author Topic: Jubal's poems  (Read 70940 times)

Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #285 on: August 21, 2020, 07:53:13 PM »
Another short attempt at Georgian composition.

თაგვის ამბავი

"თაგვო, თაგვო,
თაფლისფერი თაგვო,
სად მიდიხარ?
რატომ იქ მიდიხარ?"

"ადამიანო", თაგვი თქვა,
"მე არ ვფიქრობ, სად და რატომ,
ვცხოვრობ შენს სახლში,
შევჭამე შენს საჭამელს,
შენ იცი სად მივიდვარ?"

ადამიანი ვფიქრობდი,
ადამიანი ვფიქრობდი,
მაგრამ არ მოსაზრი თაგვთვის ჰქონდა.
და თაგვი?
კატა შეჭამა თაგვს,
და ადამიანი არასოდეს იცოდა.
« Last Edit: August 21, 2020, 08:18:10 PM by Jubal »
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #286 on: October 17, 2020, 03:06:08 PM »
Sagani's Song

Little one,
Am
Through unending snow, you run,
                                C                     G
And where you shall tread, you go,
        Em                                            Am
To the sound of your mother’s bow
          F            G               Am

My love, my pup,
    C             G
My long-lost blessing,
  Em              Am
I left you with little,
  Am                C
Returned with less
 C                    G or Em
Little one,
Through unending snow, you run,
And where you shall tread, you go,
To the sound of your mother’s bow


My love, my pup,
My long-lost blessing,
I left you with little,
Returned with less
I lost my chance
To watch you grow
But with folly’s tread
I came to know you

Little one,
Through unending snow, you run,
And where you shall tread, you go,
To the sound of your mother’s bow


All these lost years,
Will not return,
No ancient things,
Were worth this yearning,
Don’t think of souls,
Or lives gone past,
Grow where there’s sun,
For the ice comes fast

Little one,
Through unending snow, you run,
And where you shall tread, you go,
To the sound of your mother’s bow


I played my part,
For those who helped me,
From my folly’s quest,
I set others free,
Perhaps I did right,
So strangers live,
Little one, my stranger,
Will you forgive me?

Little one,
Through unending snow, you run,
And where you shall tread, you go,
To the sound of your mother’s bow

The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #287 on: October 18, 2020, 06:08:23 PM »
Little Moorhen
Dedicated to Beatrice Catchpole-Simmons

Little moorhen,
C          D
See the summer sun on lilies
G                          C
Step once again,
C             G
With flowers so big that you can hide,
     G                                      D         Em
In little worlds each has inside,
G                             Em    D

And you shall find
   G                D
That the world is wide
  G                       D
And full of flowers
                Em
Little moorhen,
See the summer sun on lilies
Step once again,
With flowers so big that you can hide,
In little worlds each has inside,

And you shall find
That the world is wide
And full of flowers

See autumn fall,
Around you, nests of love and leaves
As you grow tall,
By those who helped your wings unfold,
And keep you when the world is cold

So that you can find,
That the world is wide
And full of flowers

Winters will come,
Garlanding the world in frost
A weary sun
Wilts, its petals fall but then
Your world turns and it blooms again

And you shall find,
That the world is wide
And full of flowers

There’ll be a spring,
Not everything just as it was,
But birds still sing,
And you can sing and dance and hum
For what’s lost and what’s yet to come

And you shall find,
That the world is wide
And full of flowers

And summer calls,
The world is bigger than you knew,
The flowers seem small,
But every joy and every care,
Is nestling in a flower somewhere

So still you shall find,
That the world is wide
And full of flowers
Yes, you shall find,
That the world is wide
And full of flowers



I came up with the idea for this one after a friend of mine had a baby, to whom the song is dedicated. :)
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #288 on: December 04, 2020, 12:33:17 AM »
Balderdash (the Blemmye Pirate)

Balderdash the Blemmye Pirate,
Had two eyes upon his breast,
Grinning mouth across his stomach,
Gold and rubies in a pirate chest!

Hey! Ho!
When there's coin no more for ale we'll go
Hey! Ho!
Down on the shoreline where the south winds blow.

Balderdash the Blemmye Pirate,
Silver greaves upon his knee,
Row of parrots on his shoulders,
Ship upon the rolling sea!

Hey! Ho!
When there's coin no more for ale we'll go
Hey! Ho!
Down on the shoreline where the south winds blow.

Balderdash the Blemmye Pirate,
Sank two ships then two ships more,
Took their gold, their ale and vittles,
Left their sailors on a far off shore!

Hey! Ho!
When there's coin no more for ale we'll go
Hey! Ho!
Down on the shoreline where the south winds blow.

Balderdash the Blemmye Pirate,
Said to his shipmates when a ship was seen,
"Every ale-jar on that vessel,
Give to me and I'll drink them clean"!

Hey! Ho!
When there's coin no more for ale we'll go
Hey! Ho!
Down on the shoreline where the south winds blow.

Balderdash the Blemmye Pirate,
Took that ship so wide and big,
Found its cargo, a hundred barrels,
All of ale he'd sworn to swig!

Hey! Ho!
When there's coin no more for ale we'll go
Hey! Ho!
Down on the shoreline where the south winds blow.

Balderdash the Blemmye Pirate,
Drank each barrel round and wide,
Staggered drunk up to his shipmates,
Fell from the deck into the rolling tide!

Hey! Ho!
When there's coin no more for ale we'll go
Hey! Ho!
Down on the shoreline where the south winds blow.

Balderdash the Blemmye Pirate,
Gave his life for a drunken boast,
Him we honour when we're drinking,
Raise your glass for another toast!

Hey! Ho!
When there's coin no more for ale we'll go
Hey! Ho!
Down on the shoreline where the south winds blow.
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #289 on: December 08, 2020, 03:57:33 PM »
This may end up being a tavern song in Exile Princes if I ever get to implementing them:

Saint Oraphas Was a Wood-sprite

Saint Oraphas was a wood-sprite
Saint Oraphas was a wood-sprite
A wild and wily wood-sprite,
Who in the woods did dwell,
He came upon an angel,
He came upon an angel,
Who spoke about the holy books
And to him faith did tell!

So Oraphas lived in his oak,
So Oraphas lived in his oak,
And learned the words of holy hope,
Within that peaceful dell,
Until one day beneath that tree,
Until one day beneath that tree,
Came demons dancing joyously
All casting of a spell!

So Oraphas hid in his tree,
Saint Oraphas hid in his tree,
And prayed a prayer of leaf and bough,
For to be hidden well,
As then they called a demon lord,
Yes, then they called a demon lord,
Pentagathus their mighty king,
All fearsome and fell!

Then Oraphas leapt on the demon king,
Then Oraphas leapt on the demon king,
And to him holy words did sing
And sent him back to hell!
The demons fled both west and east,
The demons fled both west and east,
And Oraphas gave thanks and sang,
And rang a holy bell.

Yes, Oraphas was a wood-sprite,
Saint Oraphas was a wood-sprite
A wild and wily wood-sprite,
Who in the woods did dwell,
He fought the demons righteously,
He fought the demons righteously,
And so of him I’ve sung this song,
That’s all I have to tell!
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #290 on: December 19, 2020, 12:42:11 PM »
Oh, Forest Tree
 
Oh forest tree, where do your leaves down fall,
G/D/Em
Beneath the dying sun,
G/D
Where autumn bids the summer sleep,
Em/C/G
Beneath the moon,
C/G
Oh cover there my brother’s last remain,
G/D/Em
For he’s died at war, and he’ll ne’er be back again.
D/Em
Oh forest tree, where do your leaves down fall,
Beneath the dying sun,
Where autumn bids the summer sleep,
Beneath the moon,
Oh cover there my brother’s last remain,
For he’s died at war, and he’ll ne’er be back again.

Oh forest tree, you’ll cover him with gold,
Beneath the dying sun,
Where like hard iron he lieth cold,
Beneath the moon,
There he must lie, ne’er to see the coin he’d made,
For his life was paid to death in cruel trade.

Oh forest tree, give him a rustling bed,
Beneath the dying sun,
His sword is sheathed, in earth he’ll rest his head,
Beneath the moon,
I know not where his far off barrow’s found,
That you build for me, where I cannot be bound.

Oh forest tree, where do your leaves down fall,
Beneath the dying sun,
Where autumn bids the summer sleep,
Beneath the moon,
Oh cover there my brother’s last remain,
For he’s died at war, and he’ll ne’er be back again.
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #291 on: December 20, 2020, 11:46:50 AM »
The Howling Lay

I call on the tracks of the wise fox to guide you,
G                D                      Em                  G
I call on the tree-roots your secrets to keep,
C              D                               Em                D
On the spears of the hawthorn to harbour and bound you,
G               D                        Em                                      D
On the piercing owl-song to sing you to sleep,
Em                    C                    D                   G
When night follows day,
 Em              D            Em
When the wolves they howl and bay,
   G                                        D             Em
Oh Too-ra-lie lay
                    Em
Too-ra-lie, Too-ra-lie lay
C                     D          Em
I call on the tracks of the wise fox to guide you,
I call on the tree-roots your secrets to keep,
On the spears of the hawthorn to harbour and bound you,
On the piercing owl-song to sing you to sleep,
When night follows day,
When the wolves they howl and bay,
Oh Too-ra-lie lay
Too-ra-lie, Too-ra-lie lay

I bind now the deer to quicken your running,
The boar now to strengthen you, toughen your hide,
The cold moon above to give light in your darkness,
The mire-drum and rail call aid to your side,
Where night follows day,
Where the wolves they howl and bay,
Oh too-ra-lie lay
My too-ra-lie, too-ra-lie lay.

Hear me now, howling ones, harbour my darling,
Give freely the strength that you’d give to your own,
Your baying’s a singing in oath to my blessing,
That calls the wild places as family and home
As night follows day,
As the wolves they howl and bay,
Oh too-ra-lie lay
My too-ra-lie, too-ra-lie lay.

When faces turn from you, and no friend can find you,
When you are hounded and put to the test,
Then by this song name I the wilds your protector,
When howls chill your marrow, it’s then you can rest.
While night follows day,
While the wolves they howl and bay,
Oh too-ra-lie lay
My too-ra-lie, too-ra-lie lay.


Note: additiona too-ra-lie lays may be littered liberally between verses as per preference.
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #292 on: December 21, 2020, 12:04:07 PM »
I Courted A Maid

I courted a maid by the banks of the river
G/D/G/C
The rushes like river-stones made for a bed,
G/D/G/D
But then her cruel brother threw me in the water,
G/D/G/C
And so with that maid I won’t wed,
G/D/G
And I’ll go, all a-courting no more
C/G/D/G
I courted a maid by the banks of the river
The rushes like river-stones made for a bed,
But then her cruel brother threw me in the water,
And so with that maid I won’t wed,
And I’ll go, all a-courting no more

I courted a maid by the trees of the orchard
She gave me good fruit and she laid at my side
But then she departed and never returned,
And so with that maid I won’t bide,
And I’ll go, all a-courting no more

I courted a maid by the slopes of the hillside
She’d a flower to give me, and soft words to say,
But then she proved false, for her husband pursued me,
And so with that maid I won’t stay
And I’ll go, all a-courting no more

So I’ll court a maid who I see now before me,
Her dances I’ll dance, her heart I shall gain,
And we’ll soon be together, I’ll never forsake her,
And so with that maid I’ll remain
And I’ll go, all a-courting no more
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #293 on: December 22, 2020, 05:56:06 PM »
Princes of Exile

These are the princes of my exile,
E/Am/Am/Em
The lords and dukes of my company,
C/G/C/Em
They’re hardship and hunger, the robes of a pauper,
C/G/C/Em
For I’m lost far away from my own country.
Am/C/Am/E/Am
These are the princes of my exile,
The lords and dukes of my company,
They’re hardship and hunger, the robes of a pauper,
For I’m lost far away from my own country.

I once had rings of silver, I once had a lover
I once had a fine house, but now I must roam
I’ve lost fortune’s favour, but never shall waver,
For until I can find somewhere I’ll call home

So come all you friends who here do gather,
And hear my tale, and hear my call,
For you’ll be my princelings, the friends of my wanderings,
And we’ll onward to roam in our exile.

These are the princes of my exile,
The lords and dukes of my company,
They’re hardship and hunger, the robes of a pauper,
For I’m lost far away from my own country.
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #294 on: December 26, 2020, 11:29:45 PM »
An Encumbered Song

I am overencumbered and that means I cannot roam,
Em/G/D/Em
And I’m halfway down a dungeon that’s a thousand miles from home,
C/G/G/D
I’ve picked one flower too many and my burden is too great,
Em/G/D/Em
And I’m finding the downsides of too much inventory weight.
C/D/Em/D/Em

I am a swift adventurer, through hill and marsh and cave,
G/D/Em/D/Em
Defeating dragons, vampires too, good people for to save,
Em/G/G/D
But now all of a sudden my quick feet they leaden grow,
C/Em/G/D
For I picked a bunch of flowers that caused my pack to overflow…
Em/G/G/D
I am a swift adventurer, through hill and marsh and cave,
Defeating dragons, vampires too, good people for to save,
But now all of a sudden my quick feet they leaden grow,
For I picked a bunch of flowers that caused my pack to overflow…

CHORUS:
I am overencumbered and that means I cannot roam,
And I’m halfway down a dungeon that’s a thousand miles from home,
I’ve picked one flower too many and my burden is too great,
And I’m finding the downsides of too much inventory weight.


I don’t know where this weight is from, I really can’t recall,
For ninety potion bottles shouldn’t weigh that much at all,
Two dozen apples surely aren’t as heavy as all that,
And I made sure all the necromancers’ robes were folded flat,

CHORUS

I worked so hard for this dragonbone, I can’t leave that behind,
Nor the stack of magic tubers that I roamed the wilds to find,
I already dropped the broom I found, the clothes iron too is gone,
And I think I need these bear pelts for some quest that I am on.

CHORUS

What about an NPC, you ask? And you’d be right,
But she’s carrying, already, seventeen greatswords of light,
And a set of dwarven armour, and a few more things as well,
Like that box of forty dire wolf teeth I’m not sure where to sell.

CHORUS

Now you might think I should invest in stamina or pace,
But I need all of my skill points to throw fire in your face,
It’s a shame that summoned demons can’t pick up my bags, it’s true,
But I guess them being all on fire might char a thing or two

CHORUS

Now I guess that I could leave behind the goat’s cheese, wine, and bread,
But what’s the fun in dungeon crawls without a proper spread?
And yes, that’s why a tablecloth’s a useful thing to take,
Though we might need that barrow-wight’s old sword to cut the cake,

CHORUS

I guess I’ll eat some apples now, and ditch a book I’ve read,
To finally walk at normal speed into the room ahead,
I’ve half a point of free space and I’m once more running free,
But wait! I see a mushroom patch that’s just ahead of me…

CHORUS
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #295 on: January 23, 2021, 09:31:19 PM »
Soothsaying

Only in the flights of birds
Will there ever be record
Of the things you never wrote
On the paper that I never had.

Each turn of a gull's wing in gathering dusk
In rising mist and the gloom of a thundering rail-bridge
Mingled with the last breaths of a cigarette
Seems to gather and weave past fates
The knotted ties that bind us
The threads that run never crossed
Some flights slow, looping, an ache of languid love
Some turns swift, stone-dropping, a heady rush neverlasting
Some diving to the past, some rising to future twists and wingbeats

They wheel in flocks, an echo of a sunset murmuration
Under my breath
Where I have forgotten how to ask questions of the flight of birds,
Or of you,
And half disappearing into the half-night
A gull turns the single threaded loop in our inexorable tapestries
And turns away across the last light on the water
A moment's flight for a moment's connection
Recording in words I never spoke
The things I never wrote
That will forever
In the flight of gulls upon the Danube
Remain.
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #296 on: February 14, 2021, 06:18:24 PM »
The Song of Scribes
    Am                          Em                      Am
The moving finger writes and having writ
              Am                 C            Am
Moves on nor all thy piety nor wit
          C                          G         Am
Shall lure it back to cancel half a line
      Am                                  Em            Am
Nor all thy tears wash out a word of it

F      G
Seasons
    C                     G
Oh, wise sisters, come
   Em                              Am
For the sun won’t be long
                  F                         C
And when night it falls at last,
                    Am                     Em
All that comes to pass is past, For

CHORUS:
The moving finger writes and having writ
Moves on nor all thy piety nor wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a line
Nor all thy tears wash out a word of it


Seasons
Oh, wise sisters, come
For the sun won’t be long
And when night it falls at last,
All that comes to pass is past, For

CHORUS

Freedoms
Oh, wanderers, lovers, come,
For the muse may soon be gone,
For these tales we might pen,
For our sorrows, joys and friends, While

CHORUS

Old songs,
Minstrels, singers, come,
For we’ll call with chant and drum
In the voice of those before,
Who page and memory kept in store, For

CHORUS

New suns,
Scribes and scholars, come,
To the worlds yet undone,
In new dawns your words be read,
So that though we’re gone, it’s said, still

CHORUS x2
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...

Jubal

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Re: Jubal's poems
« Reply #297 on: March 24, 2021, 10:41:43 PM »
The Making of a Princely Man

I asked of a butcher in my town,
   G                                    D                             
What he was like who’d wear a crown,
       G                                       C
He said “he’s muscles broad as beef,
   G                                    D                             
The strongest man’s the largest fief”
Em                                       D          Em

So I bought from him five pounds of beef,
C                                                            G
I bade It rule o’er all the land:
Em                                         D
That’s the making of a princely man!
G                                        D            C

Note: 1st chorus line is G... D on the alternates.
I asked of a butcher in my town,                   
What he was like who’d wear a crown,
He said “he’s muscles broad as beef,                           
The strongest man’s the largest fief”

So I bought from him five pounds of beef,
I bade It rule o’er all the land:
That’s the making of a princely man!

I asked of a pauper in my town,
What he was like who’d wear a crown,
He said “he helps poor men like me,
A just king knows of poverty,”

So I bought from him his pauper’s sack,
Which sat upon five pounds of beef,
I bade it rule o’er all the land:
That’s the making of a princely man!

I asked of a a weaver in my town,
What he was like who’d wear a crown,
He said “his sceptre brings the law,
A wise king weaves the fate of all,”

So his shuttle for my king I bought,
Whose head it was a pauper’s sack,
Which sat upon five pounds of beef,
I bade it rule o’er all the land:
That’s the making of a princely man!

I asked of a fisherman in my town,
What he was like who’d wear a crown,
He said “he leads good men to him,
And gathers them like fish that swim,”

So I made his net a royal cloak,
A shuttle sceptre my king bore,
Whose head it was a pauper’s sack,
Which sat upon five pounds of beef,
I bade it rule o’er all the land:
That’s the making of a princely man!

I asked of a farmer in my town,
What he was like who’d wear a crown,
He said “He holds a holy orb,
That comes, like harvests, from the lord,”

So I bought from him an apple round,
A fishing net, a royal cloak,
A shuttle sceptre my king bore,
Whose head it was a pauper’s sack,
Which sat upon five pounds of beef,
I bade it rule o’er all the land:
That’s the making of a princely man!

I asked of a cooper in my town,
What he was like who’d wear a crown,
He said “all crowns, like hoops must hold
Their parts: wise, craven, fool or bold.”

So a barrel hoop served for a crown,
The orb it was an apple round,
A fishing net, a royal cloak,
A shuttle sceptre my king bore,
Whose head it was a pauper’s sack,
Which sat upon five pounds of beef,
I bade it rule o’er all the land:
That’s the making of a princely man!
The duke, the wanderer, the philosopher, the mariner, the warrior, the strategist, the storyteller, the wizard, the wayfarer...