Here we have a drinking hall not unlike how one would imagine Herot in the epic verses of Beowulf. Great timbers carved with fabulous grotesques support the golden walls and brace the high a-frame ceiling. A series of large fire trenches run the length of center, to a slightly raised platform that might serve as a stage for skalds or perhaps a high-seat for kings. Along either side short moveable benches just long enough for a drunk or two to pass out on are pushed against the walls.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Friday, August 12, 2011
Friday, August 5, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
In The Beginning
Here is the creation story. This is a modern retelling from 1912. Notice how similar it is to Grecian stories.
http://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/tml/tml06.htm
http://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/tml/tml06.htm
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Arthur Rackham
One of my all time favorite artists.
Arthur Rackham was an english man and he worked in the early 1900s, leaving us in 1939.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arthur_Rackham#Gallery
Arthur Rackham was an english man and he worked in the early 1900s, leaving us in 1939.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arthur_Rackham#Gallery
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Beowulf.
http://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/tsb/tsb02.htm
The Story of Beowulf.
Forget about the movies you have seen, read the story for your self.
This is a nice version from 1933.
It is in the public domain so feel free to spread it around.
Beowulf was one of the very first stories to be written down in the Old English language, and many things historical can be gleaned even from the various translations that are out there.
Enjoy.
(This is a picture of Chronos, or Saturn by Goya)
Monday, August 1, 2011
Lughnasadh prayer.
Lord of light,
Lady of love
The wheel turns ever according to thy will.
For the ripened grain and fragrant herb of the field
We praise thee and give thanks.
For the blessings of thy earth and bounty of thy yield
We offer up our grace.
Sun-king, warm us in thy final days
As the bitter voice of winter calls
And we wend our way unto the grave.
Fill these waiting hallowed halls
With love to light this maze
Lead us through this thorn torn way
Away from the garden of pain
And bring us again unto that place,
Where our laughing kindred wait
Our smiles upon their face
That we may share with them again
Your immortal divine embrace
Lord of light,
Lady of love
The wheel turns ever according to thy will.
For the ripened grain and fragrant herb of the field
We praise thee and give thanks.
For the blessings of thy earth and bounty of thy yield
We offer up our grace.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
One more for Rachelle
Oh how mere words do pale
When used to describe how lovely you are
Or to impart how much I care.
Indeed they are frail
Their opulence wanes, loses flair
And I at a loss
Just wish you were here
That I might explain
With burning kisses
And gentle caresses
How much I miss us
And the simple joy I feel
Just having you near.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Monday, July 4, 2011
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Another one for Rachelle
This summer sun that burns me so
is dimmed by your mischievous smile.
And though its bright and all aglow
there may as well be rain.
For when you are not near the world is cold
And my heart feels a longing pain.
is dimmed by your mischievous smile.
And though its bright and all aglow
there may as well be rain.
For when you are not near the world is cold
And my heart feels a longing pain.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Red Samuri
Behold!
From the field rises
Red samurai
The light of Bushido aglow in his eye.
In blood-rain his amour glazed.
Slick the gruesome battle plain.
One thousand blades now noble-dead.
A broken purple glave
Its defeated master fled.
Behold!
On the field
Red samurai kneels
to pray.
Weary, gore stained,
The Lash takes the day.
From the field rises
Red samurai
The light of Bushido aglow in his eye.
In blood-rain his amour glazed.
Slick the gruesome battle plain.
One thousand blades now noble-dead.
A broken purple glave
Its defeated master fled.
Behold!
On the field
Red samurai kneels
to pray.
Weary, gore stained,
The Lash takes the day.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
R
Oh to be removed from this daily drudgery
This dull, dim, dream
And be back in the arms of my loverly
My opulent lady of love and light
Removed from the grinding wheel of time
The song in my heart is a mournful dirge
Until she again plays the strings
And takes up that joyful verse
An ancient refrain that begets spring
And brings heaven to this hell on earth
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Sunday, April 3, 2011
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