THE HAESENI PAPYRUS: VOLUME THREE

[tcs_tonsils_ 2829]

THE HAESENI PAPYRUS: VOLUME THREE

On this 8h of Gronna ag Droba, 471 E.S.

 

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

 

Poem Index

I. The Red Walls of Karosgrad

II. Wastelands

III. Wolves

IV. The Canopy

V. Clouds

VI. Men of Morning

VII. My Love

VIII. Young Nobility

IX. The Candle’s Burning

X. Toe-m

 

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Poems

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I. The Red Walls of Karosgrad

 

The red walls of Karosgrad

They stand strong like giants in snowfall

Bound by stone and yet ironclad

 

Here, peace and love are to be had,

Thanks to the bastions who stand tall,

The red walls of Karosgrad

 

Two people watch, a man and lad,

Shield in one’s hand, armed with a maul

Bound by stone and yet ironclad

 

Loss is something that cant be had

They must protect us from vile thralls

The red walls of Karosograd

 

The knights never tire, always glad

Defend, protect, prevent black shawls

Bound by stone and yet ironclad

 

Roam free you may like the aoudad

In front of them, our foes are small

The red walls of Karosgrad

Bound by stone and yet ironclad

 

By Lord, Sterling Percy Amador

 

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II. Wastelands

 

Ice spikes pierce the dulling sky

The snow-capped peaks above me rise,

This frostbitten wasteland, a frozen dream

A realm of harsh and violent means.

 

The icy winds do howl and moan,

The snow-laden trees of the forest groan,

The flakes swirl in frosty dance,

Yet hold motionless in white trance.

 

The thriving kingdom stands low,

But here is where no crop could grow,

The deep chill breath is so precise,

Far too cold, the winter's vice.

 

It shall nip and bite your ear,

The waste is what you’ll learn to fear.

The sun's rays reflect off the snow,

Yet deadly chasms are hidden below,

 

By Lord, Borris Iver Kortrevich

 

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III. Wolves

 

We, soldiers, trot on

From the western jewel

Of fair and holy Helena,

As fangs and talons protrude.

 

Burning, ravaging,

The Marnan East fell to us,

With only a single bulwark ahead,

Being the simple land's end.

 

O Guise, O Guise,

Full of envy and lies,

Simple Baron, Simple land,

Why must you have been before our eyes?

 

‘Run’, I howled, ‘Run!’

For pity I felt for the rebel,

But these legs raced on,

Towards their Baron’s blood.

 

Farmer and serf,

Human and dwarf,

None decided to run,

All accepting their miserable fate.

 

Fools, is Ves not near you?

There is time to escape before we run through-

But they did not, and it is our duty to obey,

For the Emperor’s word is fate, none can disobey.

 

In the chaos of fires and burning,

We found the Baron standing strong,

He let no man come near his manor,

But that was not the case for dogs.

 

The hounds of hell,

Did they rush so fast you could not escape,

O Dreadful rebel baron?

Or did you let them catch you standing?

 

Gone in an instance.

Your lifeless dead corpse.

Gracefully did the dogs,

Leave your body, only biting your throat.

 

As the fires leapt from the fields,

To the humble manor.

Gone with the ashes,

The humble baron’s body.

 

We all watched from a distance,

As the dogs went to sleep,

Peacefully and quietly,

Having only taken one life to the deep.

 

I glanced towards the soldiers around me,

With snouts made of plate,

And darkened eye-slits,

Howling in the fire-filled night sky.

 

As I gaze upon the hounds and then the men,

The humans slumber, wolves in the night baying,

I struggle to comprehend, for when

Comparing the two, the dogs seem more humane than the men.

 

By Lords Justinian Basrid and Adolphus von Alstreim

 

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IV. The Canopy

 

T’is the forest, a mirage induced with the mind

Somewhere to scamper, without your woes

A place to think, with ample to find

I find that things balance, as the verdant sheen shows

 

Any day of each week

Each month that sourly ticks

Mothers, and sisters drawn, including me

Waiting to see which one it picks

 

A maze of grass n’ brush

Us, perceived the same as insects around

We can wander, meander. . . what's the rush?

We can be simple, no need to be compound

 

Its sad eyes, they draw me in, tell me lies

How much can we leech from things that aren’t ours?

Let go, it can be official, see which trees have eyes

When it can be beneficial, we seem to pass the hours

 

It’s less fun to be seduced by its leafy draw

But even worse to see another fail to resist

O, how many go missing, a mother and babe in which I saw

The moonlight dust fading to a night’s dismiss

 

How one misses a fire in winter’s midst

I somehow crave the forest’s umber

Hard to think I could be saved by true love’s kiss

So let me go, and send me asunder 

 

By Lady Emigliana Maeya O’Rourke,

 

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V. Clouds

 

Grazing over meadows

Gazing up at the skies

Brothers of halcyon days

One sleeps grass, one flies

 

Galavanting like twins,

Gliding in the shadow,

That the other provides,

And running when winds blow.

 

Grasping at their soft fluff,

Grabbing nought but air,

Looking up, the clouds fled,

To be fed, with no care.

 

By Lord, Sterling Percy Amador

 

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VI. Men of the Morning

 

Sounds o'er the rolling hills,

O'er fields of clover, 

O’er fields of mud,

O'er the battlefield n’ sight of blood.

 

Waiting on the eve of battle,

More dreadful than the thing,

Darkness consumes the world below,

Acknowledging what's forthcoming.

 

Then at the break of day, they take their stance,

Gathering forces to take arms,

Each cavalier mounts his stead,

Spearmen hold at the ready.

 

Banner bearers raise their flags

Watching fast till at time it comes,

To raise one's blade and go.

Then bursting forth in the fierce display,

The men would take to war.

 

O'er the fields of clover, blood-stained green.

Soldiers face death, for their lord and king

To bring great honor, they die a warrior's death.

 

By Lord, Borris Iver Kortrevich

 

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VII. My Love

 

My heart skips steps when you walk

I am enamoured by you

I lose my words when you talk

I wish I knew what to do

 

I am enamoured by you

I freeze at your smile like rock

I wish I knew what to do

I try to love, beat this shock

 

I freeze at your smile like rock

My soul sings when I see you

I try to love, beat this shock

Your laugh paints me a red hue

 

My soul sings when I see you

I lose my words when you talk

Your laugh paints me a red hue

My heart skips steps when you walk

 

By Lord, Sterling Percy Amador

 

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VIII. Young Nobility

 

Downswept streams and curtained flags

We watched unto your prowess with admiration

We were flawed, our eyes bagged

Reflecting on our damnation 

 

Longing for nothing but to be seen

O, to do justice to one’s bloodline

Crowns and armor with polished sheen

Thus is the curse of a noblime

Every gaze is fixed unto us

Bounded, a valiant successor in due time

 

The clock ticks

O’ the pendulum sways,

To give true meaning to our days. 

All is futile, bound to rust

Our fickle minds in endless swirl

We latch to things we blindly trust

Finding our humanity begins to unfurl. 

 

It is hard to fathom life without this duress

Something brought swiftly on ourselves

Either forced to donn a battledress 

Or speak vows, drowned out by church bells

 

By Lady Emigliana Maeya O’Rourke,

 

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IX. The Candle’s Burning

 

Sleep,

Dearest little one,

Let forth dreams flow.

Tender head,

In imagination serene,

Like honey for the mind.

Go watch

Understood ununderstandables,

Stories,

Pieced oddly together.

Take heed of my words,

Draw out the slumber,

Rest now,

Your little head,

And fall into wonderland.

 

By Lord, Borris Iver Kortrevich

 

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X. Toe-m

 

Eenie, meenie, miney, moe,

Ea have seen Aedypapej Borris' toe.

It is kind of gross and very icky,

Ea suggest running away when his boots get sticky.

 

By a 15 year old, Lady, Josefina Barclay

 

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SIGNED,

 

Her Excellency, Josefina Barclay, Duchess-Consort of Reinmar 

 

The Honorable, Justinian Basrid, Count of Susa 

 

The Honorable, Adolphus von Alstreim, Earl of Suffolk, Prince of Sutica

 

The Honorable, Emigliana Maeya O’Rourke, Countess of Halstaig, 

Lord Borris Iver Kortrevich, VKML

Lord, Sterling Percy Amador

[crazedpudding 2170]

Josefina Barclay squints down at the last poem. "...Isn't that from almost thirty years ago? Why did he keep it?!"

[tcs_tonsils_ 2829]

Just now, crazedpudding said:

Josefina Barclay squints down at the last poem. "...Isn't that from almost thirty years ago?"

Borris simply chuckles, his promise fulfilled.