Longing
My eyes he doth meet
From across the street
I stare.
His smile tis so sweet
His voice what a treat
So fair.
My cheeks feel the heat
I shyly retreat
But where?
I have not a prayer
None know my despair
But me.
He walks with an air
The world is his lair
All see.
I know such despair
For love I can’t bear
He’d flee.
Our love cannot be
There can be no we
I sigh.
Though he has the key
To what he can’t see
I cry.
And I’ll pay the fee
For I’ll set him free
Goodbye.
Showing posts with label SCA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label SCA. Show all posts
Monday, February 26, 2007
Silliness
We were given a list of 12 random words from a dictionary and asked to complete a poem at Oldenfield's 1st Anniversery. This is what I came up with. :) (assigned words in red).
Enchanted Avocado Dream
In the land of enchantment
Near crustacean shores,
With fevered excitement
The Leonine roars.
With propitious ardor
He readies for the fight,
His body all widen
The tawny of zincite.
No cuisse or armor
His fundament in air,
In the avocado wood
None challenge his stare.
His heart set for battle
But his foes flee to quick,
Serendipity is gone
He cries, “fiddlestick!!”
Isabella
Enchanted Avocado Dream
In the land of enchantment
Near crustacean shores,
With fevered excitement
The Leonine roars.
With propitious ardor
He readies for the fight,
His body all widen
The tawny of zincite.
No cuisse or armor
His fundament in air,
In the avocado wood
None challenge his stare.
His heart set for battle
But his foes flee to quick,
Serendipity is gone
He cries, “fiddlestick!!”
Isabella
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Japaneese period poem - Katauta
Born in Fire
For Lord Eoin
What warrior can stand
Against lies veiled as honor
Chivalry tossed to the ground.
But when in the fire
Is steel tempered and polished
Birthing a blade to astound.
For Lord Eoin
What warrior can stand
Against lies veiled as honor
Chivalry tossed to the ground.
But when in the fire
Is steel tempered and polished
Birthing a blade to astound.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Period Viking Drottkvaett Poem - Work in Progress
In the Hall of the Mountain King
For Lord Hadrian
With epic endearment
Our eponymous peer
Descends the dark pathway
Down into depths below.
His heart bravely beating
His countenance clouded
Silent steps mark his path
Slipping down through the stone
Till truth mars his journey
And Trolls race to battle
Sweat scorched and battered
Stormy seas in his eyes
He is hunted and tracked
Hearing only salvation
When the hall collapses
And the Mountain King dies.
For Lord Hadrian
With epic endearment
Our eponymous peer
Descends the dark pathway
Down into depths below.
His heart bravely beating
His countenance clouded
Silent steps mark his path
Slipping down through the stone
Till truth mars his journey
And Trolls race to battle
Sweat scorched and battered
Stormy seas in his eyes
He is hunted and tracked
Hearing only salvation
When the hall collapses
And the Mountain King dies.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Hope Lingers On - A Period French Rondeau
Hope Lingers On
And hope lingers on through silent tears
She lifts her eyes as she faces her fears.
No longer young as the days unfold
Though her heart still yearns as the story is told
And the empty silence around her jeers.
Days turn to weeks and weeks to years
And still she waits for the sound her heart hears.
But age won’t be tempered that turn dreams cold
And hope lingers on.
High on the cliffs where a lonely wind sheers
She keeps her vigil though she knows the end nears.
Knights are not common and heroes grow old
But rescue from her tower would require someone bold
And though the storm rages the rain finally clears
And hope lingers on.
And hope lingers on through silent tears
She lifts her eyes as she faces her fears.
No longer young as the days unfold
Though her heart still yearns as the story is told
And the empty silence around her jeers.
Days turn to weeks and weeks to years
And still she waits for the sound her heart hears.
But age won’t be tempered that turn dreams cold
And hope lingers on.
High on the cliffs where a lonely wind sheers
She keeps her vigil though she knows the end nears.
Knights are not common and heroes grow old
But rescue from her tower would require someone bold
And though the storm rages the rain finally clears
And hope lingers on.
In Honor of Our Queen and Princess 02/2007
Queen Kora
Her beauty is unrivaled
Her heritage southern charm,
Queen Kora takes her Throne
Guided by King Gunther’s arm.
With grace she walks among us
Granting all her lovely smile,
Her beauty has no equal
Not even on the Nile.
So bring her tea and soda
And German wine Riesling,
But keep away your coffee
And the mushrooms she will fling.
Queen Kora knows fine jewelry
Royal clothing for her dress,
And she welcomes well turned clay
Lovely baskets and largess.
But what’s closest to her heart
Valued more than gold or lace,
Hates veggies and potatoes
And goes by the name of Grace.
A Garden Tribute to Princess Deirdre
Like dramatic amaryllis
Princess Deirdre takes a seat
With Camellia’s gracious air
Her kingdom willingly at her feet.
With Heather like admiration
For Magnolia’s noble grace
We express our Zinnia affection
For the beauty of Orchid’s face.
Like Azalea stands for women
Majestic lily you’re our crown,
Princess Deirdre brings a garden
Where a kingdom knows no frown.
Her beauty is unrivaled
Her heritage southern charm,
Queen Kora takes her Throne
Guided by King Gunther’s arm.
With grace she walks among us
Granting all her lovely smile,
Her beauty has no equal
Not even on the Nile.
So bring her tea and soda
And German wine Riesling,
But keep away your coffee
And the mushrooms she will fling.
Queen Kora knows fine jewelry
Royal clothing for her dress,
And she welcomes well turned clay
Lovely baskets and largess.
But what’s closest to her heart
Valued more than gold or lace,
Hates veggies and potatoes
And goes by the name of Grace.
A Garden Tribute to Princess Deirdre
Like dramatic amaryllis
Princess Deirdre takes a seat
With Camellia’s gracious air
Her kingdom willingly at her feet.
With Heather like admiration
For Magnolia’s noble grace
We express our Zinnia affection
For the beauty of Orchid’s face.
Like Azalea stands for women
Majestic lily you’re our crown,
Princess Deirdre brings a garden
Where a kingdom knows no frown.
My SCA Persona
My first post is to introduce myself in the SCA. I am a poet by trade, but also enjoy the pursuits of illumination, music, target archery and half a dozen other arts. Here is my story.
Isabella (Ambrogini) Poliziana ( Montepulciano, Tuscany) (02/28/1465 – 05/05/1526) (We have the same birthday LOL)
My father Benedetto, a jurist of good family and distinguished ability, was murdered by political antagonists for adopting the cause of Lorenzo di Piero de' Medici in Montepulciano in May of 1464. This circumstance gave his children a claim on the family of Medici.
Angelo, my brother and future poet, teacher, and scholar of Italy, was taken to Florence in 1469 at the age of ten and placed in school under the court of Medici. I was also taken to court at the age of 8 after our mother's death in 1473. I was taught to read and write by my brother and showing a remarkable skill and ability in the arts became a favorite of Clarice Orsini, the wife of Lorenzo de Medici and Queen of Florence (age 20 ). The baby Lucrezia, their first child, (at 3 years old), and I also got along very well and were play companions despite the differences of our ages. For several years the the two of us were schooled and played together and were introduced to many influencial people such as Leonardo da Vinci, Donatello, Sandro Botticelli and Michelangelo Buonarroti and others who frequented the the Medici court.
In 1477 Angelo was banished from the court by Clarice and I was feeling unsure of my place when Margret of York, a well know patron of the arts in England, was passing through in 1478 on a pilgrimage, and became enchanted with me and my gifts in poetry, art, and music. Margret had said goodby to her stepdaughter the year before, when she married Archduke Maximilian of Austria, and missed having a young girl around the house as she had no children of her own. She advised me that she would be my patron if I would return with her to Bruges (Belgium). I agreed and at the age of 13 traveled to England to live in the household of Margret of York. It was in this household that I learned the art of illumination from the Netherlandish Painter Simon Marmion, another of Margret's supported artest. After the death of her brothers, King Henry IV and Richard III, Margret became a staunch supporter of anyone who apposed Henry VII, and because of the danger of living in the household of York during the War of the Roses, I became skilled in use of the bow as well.
In 1482, Margret's daughter Marie de Bourgogne, died in a riding accident and her two children came to live with Margret. At the age of 17, I became their teacher until they returned home to Rome with their father. Margret died when I was 38 at Mechelen (Belgium) in 1503. I had lived in her household for 25 years and was bereft.
Knowing that I had no home or family to return to, I sent letters pleading with Giovanni di Lorenzo de' Medici, who was the second son of Lorenzo and Orsini, (both dead by this time as well as my childhood playmate Lucrezia), for a place to live. Giovanni, was well known for his generous nature, remembered me from his childhood fondly, and made a place for me in his household where I continued my art, music, and writings. Givanni became Pope Leo X, from 1513 until his death in 1521, and traveled to many contries with lavish parades and pets taking his household with him so I developed a well rounded world view and learned the poet styles of many countries.
As Pope Leo X, Givanni had Martin Luthor exomunicated on Jan 3, 1521 for Luthor's public burning of the Pope's demand to retract 41 of his 95 theses and then died soon afterwards. Taking his death to be a sign from God, I beseached Martin Luthor to be allowed to join his cause and with my experience and artestic abilities, he agreed. I spent the last years of my life living at Wartburg Castle in Germany in the household of Martin Luthor, writing and illuminating for the prodastant reformation until my death in 1526 at the age of 61.
Isabella (Ambrogini) Poliziana ( Montepulciano, Tuscany) (02/28/1465 – 05/05/1526) (We have the same birthday LOL)
My father Benedetto, a jurist of good family and distinguished ability, was murdered by political antagonists for adopting the cause of Lorenzo di Piero de' Medici in Montepulciano in May of 1464. This circumstance gave his children a claim on the family of Medici.
Angelo, my brother and future poet, teacher, and scholar of Italy, was taken to Florence in 1469 at the age of ten and placed in school under the court of Medici. I was also taken to court at the age of 8 after our mother's death in 1473. I was taught to read and write by my brother and showing a remarkable skill and ability in the arts became a favorite of Clarice Orsini, the wife of Lorenzo de Medici and Queen of Florence (age 20 ). The baby Lucrezia, their first child, (at 3 years old), and I also got along very well and were play companions despite the differences of our ages. For several years the the two of us were schooled and played together and were introduced to many influencial people such as Leonardo da Vinci, Donatello, Sandro Botticelli and Michelangelo Buonarroti and others who frequented the the Medici court.
In 1477 Angelo was banished from the court by Clarice and I was feeling unsure of my place when Margret of York, a well know patron of the arts in England, was passing through in 1478 on a pilgrimage, and became enchanted with me and my gifts in poetry, art, and music. Margret had said goodby to her stepdaughter the year before, when she married Archduke Maximilian of Austria, and missed having a young girl around the house as she had no children of her own. She advised me that she would be my patron if I would return with her to Bruges (Belgium). I agreed and at the age of 13 traveled to England to live in the household of Margret of York. It was in this household that I learned the art of illumination from the Netherlandish Painter Simon Marmion, another of Margret's supported artest. After the death of her brothers, King Henry IV and Richard III, Margret became a staunch supporter of anyone who apposed Henry VII, and because of the danger of living in the household of York during the War of the Roses, I became skilled in use of the bow as well.
In 1482, Margret's daughter Marie de Bourgogne, died in a riding accident and her two children came to live with Margret. At the age of 17, I became their teacher until they returned home to Rome with their father. Margret died when I was 38 at Mechelen (Belgium) in 1503. I had lived in her household for 25 years and was bereft.
Knowing that I had no home or family to return to, I sent letters pleading with Giovanni di Lorenzo de' Medici, who was the second son of Lorenzo and Orsini, (both dead by this time as well as my childhood playmate Lucrezia), for a place to live. Giovanni, was well known for his generous nature, remembered me from his childhood fondly, and made a place for me in his household where I continued my art, music, and writings. Givanni became Pope Leo X, from 1513 until his death in 1521, and traveled to many contries with lavish parades and pets taking his household with him so I developed a well rounded world view and learned the poet styles of many countries.
As Pope Leo X, Givanni had Martin Luthor exomunicated on Jan 3, 1521 for Luthor's public burning of the Pope's demand to retract 41 of his 95 theses and then died soon afterwards. Taking his death to be a sign from God, I beseached Martin Luthor to be allowed to join his cause and with my experience and artestic abilities, he agreed. I spent the last years of my life living at Wartburg Castle in Germany in the household of Martin Luthor, writing and illuminating for the prodastant reformation until my death in 1526 at the age of 61.
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