Black Mask & Pale Rider Poetry
I wrote these a while ago, and may have posted them before, but for the life of me I can’t find them. So, here they are once again! The Ballads of Black Mask & Pale Rider.
The Ballad of Black Mask
A swagger in her step, a hand hovering at her hip
She’ll flash a smile, a knowing wink
A calm reserve that can fool the most able
She’ll cut you down faster than you can think
“I am the fastest this world has seen”
She’ll boast with full bravado
“I am the fastest that’s ever been”
Before one can blink she’ll up and go
Quick with her witt and quick on the draw
Her goal is simple and beyond compare
Willing to fight and willing to rumble
Her eyes seem to glisten without a care
Just who is this adventurer, one might ask
A gunslinger by choice, an elf by birth
Roaming the worlds with partner by her side
She lets loose a laugh filled with joy and mirth
Born to aristocracy, she doesn’t seem to fit
In a world built in magic and towers
She became a thief seeking adventure
Planning each move in what would seem hours
Her name became legend throughout this world and hers
A claim she will lay down when opportunity arise
A boast and a brag, one would think she was a bard
Adept with a tale as though she’d change her guise
As the years would move on, she’d take on new challenges
At different times a thief, a sheriff, a marshal
With each one she’d grow, her fame ever changing
Her heart filled with cheer as a challenge would call
Many have tried to find this wild elf
Many have failed to claim her as their own
Hard to catch, even harder to tame
She’ll remain a mystery, in this world and even her home
This tale is legend, or that is true
An elven maid with her eye on a task
The legend known through the rugged west
As the outlaw known as Black Mask.
Song of the Skald
Now gather ’round an’ ‘ear me tale
It’s one o’ epic adventure
So take a seat an’ grab an ale
An’ I’ll tell it with true measure
I be a skald, a bard, a songstress
O’ that there is no doubt
I yarn ta spin wit’ fullness
Tha’ll make ye grin fer naught.
Ye’ll wish ta listen closely now
So bend close an’ keep sharp
I’ll let ye in on the why’s an how
An’ nev’r need the sound o’ a harp.
This tale be true, one ‘undred percent
Would I lie ’bout somethin’ like tha’?
So sit righ’ there, dear ladies an’ gent
An’ I’ll b’gin with a wee small chat!
I’ll brandish me pistol, draw forth me rapier
At one time I’d force wee pretties away
But t’day, the song is much more merry
A tale o’ how I came ta this place so long an’ grey!
Twas one dark night, as it always would begin
Paints a picture o’ darkness an’ forebodin’
An’ in this case be true, I swear on me pistols twin
Now let me continue b’fore this tale be erodin’!
In the valley o’ mists, through the dark trees
I found the gateway ta what I thought the great beyond
I felt the cold come through the gate, an’ thought I’d freeze
But I knew ta venture through an’ held meself strong!
‘Round here, there’s merry an’ mirth
But there in that diff’rent land
Far flung from me elven birth
Was a cruel place rule by a gun hand!
So sit yeself down an’ lend me yer ear
For I’ve a tale ta tell an’ ye’ll no’ wanna miss
It’s a harrowing yarn that could give ye fear
But I promise ’twill end with a Skald’s bold kiss.
Words by Tim Holtorf, artwork by Clarissa R. Hummel
Poetical Quotes
Getting a little poetical today, even if there is no rhyme nor reason to it (heh, see what I did there… yeah, yeah, I know, I’m terrible, even for pointing that out). Start things off with a well known one by Robert Frost.
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
~Robert Frost, 1920
Continuing on with something more akin to a proverb. Originally, I didn’t know who this quote was attributed to. Now I can finally put a name to the words.
“It is better to look ahead and prepare, than to look back and regret.” ~Jackie Joyner-Kersee
Finally, something that could be seen as dreadful and ominous, only because of the individual who wrote it. As well, it’s very, very interesting how this is reflected in our current state of the world.
“The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position within, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.” ~H.P. Lovecraft, The Call of Cthulhu
Poetry in Quotes
In youth we run into difficulties. In old age difficulties run into us. ~Beverly Sills
No thought has real meaning until it is written or spoken. ~author unknown
Behold the turtle. He makes progress only when he sticks his neck out. ~James B. Conant
Birthdays are good for you. Statistics show that the people who have the most, live the longest! ~author unknown
Live every moment. Laugh everyday. Love beyond words. ~author unknown
Generous is the spirit
That embraces all mankind
Generous is the heart
When love is unconfined.
~ by Jean Harris
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Autumn turns
I realized that a very important event passed without my notice. Autumn came and went last week. I call it important, because the moving of the seasons is just like turning the pages of a book. Except, last week’s change of season really didn’t feel like a change of season at all. The air was much more like summer than autumn, and the trees themselves are still green, the grass is lush. The Farmer’s Almanac is actually predicting we could be in for an Indian Summer as well. So, to usher in this passing day, some random things about autumn.
First, some poetry for thought:
Off to School
Fall comes again – a little lad
Goes trotting off to school,
To learn to count, and read and write,
And keep the Golden Rule.
Oh, teachers, in your hands is placed
A wondrous trust devine
Please help and guide this fresh young mind,
To climb the heights sublime.
A nation’s leader he may be -
A statesman, true and bold.
To fight the evil, vaunt the good,
He needs a heart of gold
Sometimes the tiny little tikes
Have talents unsurpassed;
To bring them out, and watch them grow
Is now your sacred task.
Author Unknown
Reprinted from Games and Readings by Marie Wankel
On this morning, it did start to feel a bit more like fall. Though, the air was still warm, it had the look of fall.
Pink sunrise. Fifteen minutes after this was taken, the colour of the sky turned grey.
Leaves are turning colour. It looks like fall, but the air still feels warm like summer.
Orange, yellow and red leaves cover the ground. The grass is still green.
The Valley of the Mists
This isn’t complete, but here’s a sampling of the first “chapter” of the Legend of Black Mask. This comes after the poem The Ballad of Black Mask.
From Stonebridge this tale will start, the jewel of Brytalonia
Past Brockton it will be told, the home of the skalds
Further south is the Mage’s Guild, the academy known as Arcanum Bridge
An epic tale more than certain, told throughout the land
One that should be known, even by the farmers of the Brighten Fields
Beyond is the valley, the place that rumours are spread
The Valley of Mists, north of Mysteria
When night falls and the mist rolls in, the world becomes as dark as sin
The light grow dim and the air grows thick, it can send a shiver right to the quick
Travellers beware of the road to the mists, more than one have felt death’s sharp kiss
The stories are as old as time itself, this valley foreboding has claimed more than one elf
But still there are those that would seek to conquer, their courage high and their wits stronger
Such is the tale of one such elven maid, with jet black hair all set in a braid
Her snow white flesh would seem to glow, her eyes sparkled with excitement for sure
An agile young thing who would seek out her fame, fortune and glory, that was the game
It wasn’t the wealth of things to steal, he goal was merely to look and to feel
To get past the locks and disable the traps, unbind sacred books from their leather bound wraps
The satisfaction of a job well done, to snatch a small prize and quietly run
That was the life of this young elf, to conquer a goal and feel satisfaction in self
She’d listen to rumours and keep them in mind, remember small riddles if she was in a bind
With rapier, short sword and daggers so near, she learned to defend herself from things that would fear
And so it was the way on one such dark night, that Shani would venture onto the road without fright
Prepared she was to face the unknown, and tales she would tell when she returned back home
Filled with such confidence, she felt so alive, the experience she have, her legend would thrive
So one dark night she set out on the road, leaving behind her books and abode
She’d travel light and make certain she was ready, her blades were sharp, her hands were steady
She’d keep close to the road, but deep in shadow, she knew that others would try to follow
The road is quiet, even in the dark, there is nary a sound, even from a lark
But there are dangers, sure enough, bandits, brigands, cut throats, enough
Such knowledge for Shani it did not deter, she knew what she wanted, she’d take it for sure
So onto the road her feet did quietly walk, not making a sound on grass or rock
From Stonebridge she’d start, the jewel of Brytalonia
Past Brockton she’d go, the home of the skalds
To the south she’d keep going, to Arcanum Bridge
Knowing she was getting close with each mile she would go
It wasn’t long now, as she entered the Brighten Fields
Beyond was the valley, the place that she sought
The Valley of Mists, north of Mysteria
The road was quiet as she crept along, not making a sound not even a song
Shani knew the dangers that were there, to walk the Mysterian border was something of a dare
But a curious maid was what she was, an elf who knew a noble cause
Cause and effect was how she saw it, she’d mark her place as she saw fit
She crept along the tightening walls, not far from the Rock Split Falls
The fog rolled in and it was thick, her motions slow with each time piece tick
She began to question if this was a wise idea, when sight was blind and the road not clear
In fact there was nothing to be seen, The Valley of the Mysts would remain just clean
But she pressed on in her quest, curiosity had gotten her best
The road grew more rocky as she stepped, on hands and knees she crept
Her breath was ragged in part with fear, what was in this fog so near
There was something in the distance that she could see, what in this world could ever it be
She crawled faster toward her goal, pushing back the fear that tried to grow
Rocks gave way to grass, the fog didn’t feel like such a heavy mass
She pushed herself to her feet, gazing into the mists for just half a beat
A light seemed to shine, perhaps a lantern from an old mine
She could see it through the fog, not very far, just a short jog
Her eyes did twinkle with anticipation, this would be worth all her frustration
She stepped carefully into the clearing, the call of the night owls nearing
A welcome reply to this valley so dark, and she lighted her torch with a quick spark
Her eyes grew wide with what she did see, nothing ever prepared her for a sight to bring such glee
Carved into stone with ancient runes, nestled into the hills like rocks in sand dunes
She saw the most wondrous thing ever, something told in history books never
They looked quite ornate and very old, and Shani stepped forward with feet so bold
From Stonebridge she did travel, the jewel of Brytalonia
Through Brockton she went, the home of the skalds
To the south she had gone, to Arcanum Bridge
Just to see this wonderful sight
This valley, these ancients, not far from the Brighten Fields
In this secret valley, the place that she stood
The Valley of Mists, north of Mysteria
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Writing Poetry is Hard
I am currently working diligently (alright, I could be working much more diligently) on a new project. Which is actually going to become two projects. Call them prequels to The Adventures of Black Mask & Pale Rider. The basic premise is the telling of how Shani and Pania got to Earth from their homeworld of Terra-Kal. It will be two books, one describing Shani’s adventures and the things she saw, such as the first time seeing a train, how she became such a good gunslinger, and her first game of poker. Pania’s will comprise her finding the music halls of the wonderful city of New York, becoming a part of high society, until she witnesses the treatment of the Native Americans. The difference between these two books and the one that started it all of is rather complex.
It will be written completely in poetic prose.
And damn, is it hard. I know what I want to write, but it’s not as simple as writing it out and being satisfied. I have a certain form for each story. You may have already read The Ballad of Black Mask and The Song of the Skald. Those will be the introductory pieces for each book. As I complete a tale, I’ll post it up, and I’ll take any compliments and criticism that comes my way quite happily (in other words, I’d like to hear what you, the reads think of it, in your honest opinion).
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The Ballad of Black Mask
A swagger in her step, a hand hovering at her hip
She’ll flash a smile, a knowing wink
A calm reserve that can fool the most able
She’ll cut you down faster than you can think
“I am the fastest this world has seen”
She’ll boast with full bravado
“I am the fastest that’s ever been”
Before one can blink she’ll up and go
Quick with her witt and quick on the draw
Her goal is simple and beyond compare
Willing to fight and willing to rumble
Her eyes seem to glisten without a care
Just who is this adventurer, one might ask
A gunslinger by choice, an elf by birth
Roaming the worlds with partner by her side
She lets loose a laugh filled with joy and mirth
Born to aristocracy, she doesn’t seem to fit
In a world built in magic and towers
She became a thief seeking adventure
Planning each move in what would seem hours
Her name became legend throughout this world and hers
A claim she will lay down when opportunity arise
A boast and a brag, one would think she was a bard
Adept with a tale as though she’d change her guise
As the years would move on, she’d take on new challenges
At different times a thief, a sheriff, a marshal
With each one she’d grow, her fame ever changing
Her heart filled with cheer as a challenge would call
Many have tried to find this wild elf
Many have failed to claim her as their own
Hard to catch, even harder to tame
She’ll remain a mystery, in this world and even her home
This tale is legend, or that is true
An elven maid with her eye on a task
The legend known through the rugged west
As the outlaw known as Black Mask.
artwork by Clarissa Renee Hummel
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Cheesy poetry time
Yes, yes, it’s time for cheesy, western style, late 19th century, saloon girl singin’ poetry. I needed to craft my own to insert into Act 3 of Black Mask & Pale Rider, the Wylde Hunt. It took a long while. And even this I consider cheesy. However, I have to look at the style of the times and the type of folks type music, plus one of the characters who happens to be singing it. I wanted something light hearted that would be funny, and mix in with the mood of the saloon as a large number of cowboys (along with Shani) were playing poker. These are what I came up with.
Let me know which one sounds better, or even if there’s some suggestions. I’ll be inserting something into the Wylde Hunt soon enough as second draft draws closer to completion.
Stop horsin’ around
You can take a cowboy off the range
You can take a horse off the range
You can bed them down, make them lose their frown
But he’ll still want to go a ridin’ on the range
There’s just one thing to do
An’ that’s to make him understand
It’s something that you always knew
He’ll have to make a choice
So… fellers… this is where we tell you
Stop horsin’ around
Stop horsin’ around
You make your choice right here
An’ let me tell you dear
You better choose me not your horse
A night of poker with the boys
Making certain there’s lots of toys
So grab an whiskey, if you’re feeling frisky
Just remember there’s more then just the boys
There’s one thing to do
When the chips start to fall
It’s something you always knew
And he’ll have to know that too
So… fellers… this is where we tell you
Stop pokin’ around
Stop pokin’ around
You make your choice right here
An’ let me tell you dear
You better choose me not your game
One piece of advice
From us girls that would be nice
You spend your time playin’, Sunday you’re a prayin’
But with us you’re prayin’ all the time
There’s one thing to do
When the chapel’s calling you
It’s something that we always knew
And now it’s your turn
So… fellers… this is where we tell you
Stop messin’ around
Stop messin’ around
You make your choice right here
An’ let me tell you dear
You better be prayin’ I’ll come around
Gold in them hills
There’s gold in the hills, you can see it shining there
Men come runnin’ for miles
They’ll pack up all their things, an’ they will not hear us sing
That we’re tired of the movin’
Tired of uprootin’
But they just don’t understand
There’s gold in them hills
The excitement gives ‘em chills
I’m sure when we get there there’ll be thrills
We’re goin’ ta Californey
Where we’ll be rushin’ for the gold
Things didn’t go so well, we didn’t see things as swell
Boys were cussin’ an’ a fightin’
They’d be rich one day, an’ dead the next
More gun play than diggin’
Most were hangin’ in the riggin’
An’ even then they still don’t understand
The gold can stay in the hills
There was less excitement and more chills
When I finally see New York again I will be thrilled
I’m headin’ back east
I know he won’t miss me
‘Cause there’s still gold in them hills
