Monday, July 7, 2014
Song of the Ancient: Praise Singer (Bard)
Song of the Ancient:
Praise Singer (Bard)
We are the ancient Amazons
And I am one of many
With our long hair and dark eyes,
We have conquered your city.
Your city’s door was wide open
And we were not your guest—
The soldiers we killed, we left
May’st your ears ring tonight!
We held our swords arched high
There was a demon in me:
“Kill them all!” it cried with pride:
As your swords fell, indigently.
The city Yort, jeered, us Amazons
But she could not change her fate,
And thus, spoke your ancient seer:
‘They will lay the city to waste!’
Below your temple stone walls
The city with its water filled canals,
Did we swim, with pig-gut skins!
To emerge: crushingly to triumph!
The sun came up when we left,
Back to the Black Sea, we went—
Lower and lower the moon fell,
Over the hollow city’s breast.
Cries the bard: ‘Red with blood she lays!’
As the populist, roams aimlessly:
Nodding their heads as she burns,
As the savage sings in merriment!
And now the storm is over
And you are no longer absolute:
For we struck hard with our spears
And much harder with our bows.
But there will come another day
When flies and blood will mix:
For we have not killed you all—
Like ice you walls will crack again!
‘God save thee, thy ancient city Yort,’
Cries the praise singer, afar—
‘From the demon’s plague, that comes;
Alas, yet, no need to look so sad!’
Then the Amazon’s yelp’s echo:
“Hide in the mist if you can,
We shall climb your walls once again
Should you be so, arrogant?”
Sinned, he hears the sounds of a harp,
The praise singer’s by the canal:
He’s singing of the days now past—
And those yet, to be forth coming!
No: 158 (7-2002)
Dennis L. Siluk, dr. h.c. © 7-2014
Note 1: This poem, is part of the Tribology, “The Tiamat” Series, written in 2001, and published in, 2002, this poem was never published, and reedited somewhat in 2004, and most recently, in July, of 2014. Thus, 12-years in the cradle, figuratively speaking. Its original name was: “The Amazon Queen” changed to its most recent name, ‘Song of the Ancient Praise Singer,’ which seems to fit its general makeup better.
Note: 2: The poem “Song of the Ancient Praise Singer,” may be somewhat confusing for the reader in that it was written for the book “The Tiamat”, and never used. And now twelve years later, revamped, and reedited, and standing on its own. It was done in Blank Verse, which is not the same as Free Verse, strictly speaking, So we have for the most part, metered verse, but not necessary rhymed, and in some cases not strictly iambic pentameter. And the poem is actually just been taken out of the mothball stage, and I did not want to touch it up too much, lest I bury the meaning, that it was meant to have a decade earlier; like Walt Whitman did in “Leaves of Grass” for fifty years, thus losing its original vitality. First time shown to the public.