Archive for the ‘Childe’ Category

A moment of peace

December 4, 2010

Autumn is the time I love,
when grass is tall
and the leaves swift fall
So sweetly sings the mourning dove
as clouds race by
and soft winds sigh
Off our shores the wild geese shove
fleeing all
flitting by
Autumn is the time I love
as clouds race by
and soft winds sigh
So sweetly sings the mourning dove
fleeing all
flitting by
Off our shores the wild geese shove
when grass is tall
and the leaves swift fall

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Clockwork VS Flesh, a Battle of Golems

March 22, 2010

Cling clang crash! Whirrr tick tick tick!
Technology marches on! Science marches on!
Look how shiny! How big and loud!
Hear the engines roar!

Th-thump th-thump, THUD!
HEY,  what’s this in the way of my science?
This is not MY science! Mine is full of whirring,
stirring, swirling clouds of smoke and steam!

This fleshy thing can not be science!
It is full of non-logic! It FEELS and does not think!
Who would listen to this?
After all, clanking, swerving, clicking SCIENCE does not need hugs.

No, no hugs for me.
I will hide in the gray thing, and not heed the dull fleshy thumping.
Yes, yes, this must be wisdom.
What is that you say?
BE LOUDER, I can’t hear you over the whirring clanking science. . .

How odd, I can’t seem to hear anything, or see either.
I must have forgotten some important part. . .
Perhaps the thudding thing was needed?

But why would I need such a wishy washy
squishy squashy thing when I have Logic?
Maybe there is something useful there?

***

Sunlight feels nice, but not too much.
Grass under toes is soft and tender.
Whyever would anyone go inside the smoking lands?

I like the warm sun and soft breeze.
Clanking hurts my ears! Who cares if the river floods, just stop that infernal crashing chirruping whirring!

I don’t like that because I don’t!
Your logic is silly and full of holes!
I don’t need to tell you why, I just know it.
Of course I am right.

What do I care if I can’t move,
the sun feels nice.
It does.
Really.  I am not just saying it.

***

Silly Golems.
Don’t you know you are supposed to work together?
Hand in hand,
heart and brain,
energy and direction.

Why do people in stories always act so silly?

The World and Its Kin

January 12, 2010

Inside the great wooden chest on the landing of the stairs in a certain house there is another world.  Opening the chest will not show it to you though. All that lifting the lid does is show you mementos of days gone by in the world we spend our days in.

If worlds could be as easily entered and exited as opening the chest, would anyone stay behind to finish their lives? Whenever the current life became busy, pop! We’d be off like a flash to other worlds to try again.  We’d be a culture of half-finished nomad lives, with no solid endings or beginnings, and tangled middles impossible to parse.

That’s why other worlds are half-accessible at best, normally.  They don’t want to tempt us too strongly.  Worlds have families too, and they want each other to do well.  So when misery or sorrow plague us, and a world is ill, its family clusters around to tell it stories until it feels better.  Sometimes these stories filter through to where we can see them, deep within our world.

They help us to go on our way, and in turn, so does our world.

Little Bear and the Stream

December 10, 2009

Little Bear’s Mama told him to stay away from the stream near the cave until she or Papa taught him how to swim.  The stream could be deep sometimes, even if Little Bear had played in the shallow part while his parents watched. Mostly Little Bear listened to Mama, but not always.

He got bored on a sunny day when Mama was digging up roots for supper.  He decided to go play on the banks of the stream.  He did not tell Mama Bear, and went all by himself.  The grass by the stream was bright bright green, and it waved in the breeze and glittered a little.  Little Bear went to lay down on it, tummy first.  The grass was a little wet, and a little slippery, but Little Bear did not care. He could see a fish! It was silvery and quick, but sometimes it stayed still for five of Little Bear’s breaths.  Maybe he could catch it, like Papa Bear did.  Little Bear really wanted to try.  So he scootched forward on the grass, his nose barely above the water.  Little Bear held his breath so the water would not ripple and scare the fish.

He could sort of hear his Mama calling him, but he wanted to catch the fish. Carefully Little Bear reached out his paws, holding them above the fish on either side.  Then SPLASH! In went Little Bear’s paws! SPLASH! Little Bear fell in!

Little Bear yelled when he fell in, but then he was under the water. Little Bear was scared, so he kicked and splashed as hard as he could.  He couldn’t hear, his ears were full of water! He couldn’t smell, his nose was full of water! He couldn’t see either, but he could yell whenever he felt air, and sometimes when he didn’t.

Suddenly, big strong paws grabbed his small splashing ones.
Little Bear was still trying to splash and yell when his Mama lifted him up out of the stream. She bear hugged him tight, her fur warming him up as he shivered.

Little Bear learned how to swim after that.

Two Small Bears

December 9, 2009

Pink Bear and Little Bear are the best of friends, even though they live very far from one another. Pink Bear lives in a house in a town near a city and Little Bear lives in a cave in the woods near a stream. Pink Bear lives with humans, and her other best friend, who is a little girl. Little Bear lives with Papa Bear and Mama Bear, and they teach him all the secrets of the woods.

It has been a long time since Pink Bear and Little Bear saw each other, at least in the fur. But every night, when the two sleep, they meet and play together in the meadow near the night king’s castle. They play all kinds of games, and tell each other about each day’s adventures. When the time comes for them to wake up, the give each other bear hugs and then wave to each other as they fade from the meadow.

Sometimes Pink Bear wishes she could go and live in the forest with Little Bear, but she knows she would miss her human family if she left the house in the town near the city. Still, sometimes she daydreams about spending days in the woods, especially when her other best friend is busy doing human things.

Sometimes Little Bear wishes he could go and live in the house in the town near the city, but he knows he would miss Mama Bear and Papa Bear and their cave in the woods by the stream. Little Bear wonders what it is like to live crowded together, all rushing about and busy, with roads and sidewalks instead of grass and dirt. Occasionally he plans a visit to Pink Bear, the way she and the little girl visit him. But usually he is too busy in the woods to think much about the city. There is the stream to play in, fish to catch, butterflies to chase, and berries to pick. And when Little Bear gets lonely there is Moose, or Raccoon, or Hare, or some other friend of his.

When summer comes, they will play together again, they know. That is how it has always been. In Summer and Spring the two bears, accompanied occasionally by the little girl, play in the woods, and Little Bear shows the new places and tells his new stories to Pink Bear. In Fall Little Bear and his Mama and Papa eat as much as they can, and Pink Bear and the Little girl go back to their house in the town near the city. In Winter, they all dream of Spring.

Oh for the Gypsy life!

December 2, 2009

Oh for the life of a wanderer, ever free, ever roving!

A merry band, slowly wending their way through nature and beyond.  Slick movements and careful use of communications and gestures. Elegant, wild coloration, unmatched and unmatching.

The slow dance, the graceful pavane, the spirited whirl–not so much.

Smooth sliding movements, dance to the wind’s call!
Snail trails follow, sluglings all.