Difference between revisions of "Bite Me Once..."
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[[Category:Bardic Merit Award]][[Category:2004 Bardics]] | |||
By: Sylvance | By: Sylvance | ||
Posted on: June 06, 2004 | Posted on: June 06, 2004 |
Revision as of 12:43, 26 March 2017
By: Sylvance Posted on: June 06, 2004
Bite Me Once... (a poem by Sylvance DeFleur)
FIRST MOVEMENT
It was my fault! I woke that morning,
Drew the drapes and took a bath.
I, feeling both brave and daring,
Chose to shun my sisters' warning.
Thus, whilst breaking my night's fast,
I planned a trip to Azdun. Therein
To carve my name in monsters' hides
And find a recipe, there confined.
Singing to warm my Bardic tongue
And practicing upon my lyre,
I also got my trusted blade
From on the mantle where it hung.
Then extinguished the blazing fire
And left to use the Tattoo trade.
At Central Crossing I met a neighbour
Who inked a starburst as a favour.
Hours later, steel in hand
I arrived at Azdun's dark door.
There stood a swarm of people brave
(Truly a stern and motley band),
Some of whom looked quite cut and sore.
I curtseyed, entered, feeling grave.
The place was full of monsters foul
Who sought to rend and disembowel.
That day my rapier saw much use,
My voice was put to song unending
Whilst fingers strummed chord after chord.
I was unbeatable! No cut, no bruise
Could stay me! Unbreaking, unbending
I won with lyre, song and sword.
I passed a bridge and met a fawn.
My friends, I would be dead by dawn.
I greeted him and, melencholy,
He replied and told a tale:
He'd lost his flute to some great tyrant.
I sought to find it, make him jolly.
Truly, I thought I'd prevail.
Inside a cave I met a Giant.
"Return the flute!" I yelled aloud
And drew my rapier, bright and proud.
Minutes later I left the cave
Limping and bleeding, hurt and squinting.
The Giant's laughter followed, taunted,
But, grateful for the close shave,
I thought the story fit for printing,
Thus my pride was barely daunted.
PAIN! I yelped; a bat attack!
I swayed then fell. The world turned black.
SECOND MOVEMENT
I woke within a darkling cave
(A strange dream of the Logos lingered).
I felt as if my soul was less.
I stood up, wincing, slowly made
My way to the entrance, and fingered
The strings of my lyre. My stress
Began to dissolve, ebb away.
I returned home that very day.
Dishevelled by my death and loss
I could not sleep one wink that night.
I lay abed, and soon I vowed
To make a journey back across
The land. Yes, soon my blade would bite
Into the Giant who had showed
Such little respect for the fawn
And I. Yes, I would leave at dawn.
Resolved, the morrow saw me leave
The city. I waved Blu goodbye
And took the road that soon would end
With reckoning without reprieve.
But suddenly the winter sky
Was white with snow. Did the road bend
A foot ahead? So thick! But forth!
I turned my collar up, pressed north.
An hour later I still walked,
And realised that I'd missed the Highway!
Still in the Vashnars, I moved on.
I sung some songs, I laughed and talked,
For soon I would be having my way
With the Giant who thought he'd won.
An hour passed and still I'd failed
To find the beaten, well-worn trail...
The world was white, a blizzard blew.
I felt as if I'd walked for days
But still I moved on, bitten cold
Avoiding hail the weather threw
At me. I moved on in a daze
Surely a league I'd stamped, all told.
My skin was numb. Cold to the torso,
I vowed the Giant would rue this also.
To breathe was painful, chilling knives
Were scraping through my snivelling nose.
My back was bent beneath the snow,
The howl was like ten angry wives
And, hours since I'd felt my toes,
A mild panic did fester, grow.
My vision blurred, I stepped, slipped, stumbled
Hit the ground, so cold, so humbled.
Slow. Painfully, found my feet. Got up.
Continued. In my stupor laughed!
Where was I? I knew not, but sung.
So tired. Then abrupt
I stopped.
The hail whipped by and stung.
I felt my pulse slowing, so still.
I gathered up all of my will.
AND SHOUTED. A desperate plea for help,
A fool, and a proud fool at that!
I'd walked thus far to press a grudge!
You stupid girl, you Siren whelp.
This was pride's fall, simple, exact,
The ruling of the Divine judge.
"Who would help me?" I weakly cried.
To my surprise, seven replied...
THIRD MOVEMENT
Razei, a male of human blood,
And Tanklar, of the same persuasion,
Replied in haste to check my plight.
Flenser, Doikk, Zarhan said they would
Also help me find my location.
Matthews sought out a friend who might
Be able to send me a Portal.
But one voice seemed barely mortal.
Without small-talk he spoke with power.
Baraka asked where I was. I barely cared
By now, so cold, so dazed, so tired. Still I looked
Around. Still in the Vashnars, showered
With hail the size of mutton prepared.
No longer did I hurt. I shook
A little. "In the Vashnars," I slurred,
Swayed. My eyes then closed, the storm smiled, purred.
I'm dead. I fall towards the ground,
But do not hit. I float, so soft, so smooth.
In my ears a musical beat
Like angel's wings. I love the sound
So much. I smile, things do improve
At death! I'm in its arms, so sweet
So strong. But then hail hits my face.
I am not dead! What is this place?
Jerk upright! My breath is stolen:
Look down, I'm miles above the land!
And borne aloft within Baraka's arms,
Through clouds so dark, so cold and swollen.
In a while I understand:
He found me, swept me out of harm.
A Satyr, strong, noble, pristine.
He swoops down, lands within Cyrene
And lays me gently to the ground,
Within a circle of passersby.
I try to thank him, but can't speak
Through tears of gratitude. Without a sound
He beats his wings once more, and I
Can only wave and wipe my cheek.
Truly a hero, without thought
Of thanks or pay he came and sought
Me out. And through a blizzard brought
Me home. That is the tall and short.