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Pandora's 2nd April 04 Winner, Congrats to..... |
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May 6 04, 16:29
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Mosaic Master
Group: Administrator
Posts: 18,892
Joined: 1-August 03
From: Massachusetts
Member No.: 2
Real Name: Lori Kanter
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:Imhotep
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Congrats to LadyEvergreen865 for winning our second of two April Pandora's Box challenges!
Your entry link will now be displayed along with a 'special graphic' in your profile! You have led your Muse to victory. JOY to you, oh mighty one!
Cheers! Mosaic Musings Staff :roman:
Chaos Award
*Graphic provided by Celtic Castle Designs
Winter Moon/Silent Harp
In winter the king did ride through snow and wood his grief to hide. A wild hunt, a mad king, riding to the sound of the trumpet's ring.
Thunder, thunder hooves did fly... white stag running where dark roots hide.
Blind to his danger, the king did ride, further and further through the countryside.
Lost, lost to space and time... of hounds and riders left far behind.
Grief rode with the wind, with the night moon's gleam until the stag vanished as smoke in a dream.
"Cold, cold the evening air... Why have you come? Oh king so fair?"
"To seek peace," answered the king as he drew rein. "To follow the stag wherever he runs, until I have ended what I have begun."
"Old, old the woman of bone... only she can lead you safely back home."
"And what price?" asked the king, who was as wise as he was kind, for he knew he was caught by a spell laid cunningly ...deeply entwined.
"Aye, aye a price there be... My daughter for your wife to set you free."
Thus, the king returned to the joy of his people, from towers high to lowly croft steeple.
And before him rode the fairest maid known... With a face of an angel and a heart cold as stone.
****
Hidden deeply in the forest far from prying eyes... the king held close a secret despite his queen's cunning spies.
Castle, castle fair and bright lead astray all deadly light.
Years passed, and still the queen never found the secret that held her husband's heart... the one thing that called him every night, the one thing from which he would never part.
Until one night, by magic spell she followed on the wind as dark shadows fell, and witnessed there the king's strange words. And this is what she heard:
"Golden ball, golden twine lead me ever true. Find my love ones hidden near let no other through."
"Clever, clever husband mine... now your secret will I find."
With cunning spite, she stirred her brew, a sleeping potion made of dew...and bid her husband 'fair-thee-well' as he slept long into the night.
"Golden ball, golden twine lead me ever true. Find my husband's darlings and let no other through."
When the king did wake upon that day, he knew that fate had sealed the way.
Feathers, feathers on the ground... leaves of white with six gold crowns.
'Weep, dear father! But do not despair! One child remains...your daughter so fair."
"Wise woman, wise woman, tell me true. What, oh what, must I do?"
"Nothing, fair king. A spell has been found. But only your daughter can change feathers into crowns."
*******
'Briar, briar thistle down... I weave my spell on stony ground.'
Gathered by the light of the midnight moon... Less starflowers wither and do not bloom.
'Silence, silence is my fate... One word spoken and I'll be too late.'
Hidden in the forest... a cottage of despair, sat the King's daughter so golden and fair.
'Click, clack wooden spool… ever faster upon my stool.'
Raw thread spinning bright red stain... Nothing given, nothing gained...
****
Upon a day in June when the air was kind sparkling clear as apple wine, a prince went riding...
And there, he found high above the ground a lovely maid sitting in a tree, almost as if hiding.
Fair was she, as bright as the sun...knitting white coats from coarse thread she had spun.
Needle dull, needle sharp… woven mercy on a silent harp.
"Maid, maid come with me! You are too fair to live in a tree."
But she would not answer, she would not smile... so he gathered her up and carried her away as easily as a child.
June, june the month of love... the prince has married a silent dove.
Ah...but the queen, his mother, hated her on sight! "Wed to a peasant! This cannot be right!"
'Sun and moon fingers numb… I work my spell until the race is won.'
So when the first child was born, the queen stole the babe and blamed the wife... cutting her lips with a very sharp knife and leaving stains where only one could be held to blame.
Tears and woe mingle down… death in winter on a snowy crown.
Six years flying as the wild ones soar... In the end a blessing, 'I'll suffered no more.'
Fire, fire burning bright… wild wind crying to the crowd's delight.
"Burn the witch!" the crowd did cry. "She's killed her own child! The Queen Mother would not lie!"
Must not falter must not tire… last word spoken white-star briar.
Six winged angels, six swans of snow...circled the flames and would not go. Valiantly cunning, they fought friend and foe. None could touch the maid with the coats of woe.
Coats, coats finished now.... one sleeve missing all that time would allow.
Six swans, six princes and one faithful child. Turned sorrow into joy with one final stitch and a heartfelt smile.
"It is done....! The spell is broken. The race is won. White-star briar, the truth revealed. Now my lips are no longer sealed."
Joy, joy Princes knighted... Wife and King and child reunited. Everafter loved and cherished; villians punished, lost and vanished. All the kingdom is delighted.
The End
(This is the story of the Children of Lir, or more commonly known as The Six Swans.)
Copyright © 2004 LadyEvergreen865 All rights reserved as an unpublished work.
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"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to." ~ J.R.R Tolkien, The Lord of the RingsCollaboration feeds innovation. In the spirit of workshopping, please revisit those threads you've critiqued to see if the author has incorporated your ideas, or requests further feedback from you. In addition, reciprocate with those who've responded to you in kind. "I believe it is the act of remembrance, long after our bones have turned to dust, to be the true essence of an afterlife." ~ Lorraine M. KanterNominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more information, click here! "Worry looks around, Sorry looks back, Faith looks up." ~ Early detection can save your life.MM Award Winner
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