The Book of Valdev
Collected rhymes and poems
Inspired by true events within the city of Valdev
Written by Grisell Balfour
Three sisters
Three nuns did enter the clinic one day
Tis odd, I thought, in the very way
They blocked the door so none could leave
And cared so little when I did heave.
Nothing could stop them from their mission
Which they would say, was god-commissioned
To collect some money for the poor
And give their convent a brand new floor.
That I might leave within their grace
I left a donation on their plate
So know the cost of spiritual salvation:
A mere ten minas, to avoid damnation.
A note on mushrooms
When out foraging in woods, take heed
Of flat brown mushrooms o’ rotten seed
These false friends of those in need
Will make nose run, and bottom bleed
Mountain lament
Up through winding valley and road
We climb, seeking noble mountain abode
Of warmed hearth and merrious home.
The foul winds claw, they bring us close
To our ancestors, and as they blow
They whisper ill tidings of treacherous hosts.
Past cavern maw, past ice-bound bones
We tread, ignoring the pleading tone
From the sunken gully that stirreth dread.
Then through the mist, two torches blaze
A threshold, to rooms of wine and bread
Full o’ dancing folk in a festive haze.
Yet as the fires and songs wear on,
I step away, into night ‘fore dawn
To listen again to the cooling airs.
They speak of heath and hills I know
The vales of green, the wilds I roamed
And the embers inside doth lose their glow.
The rhyme of Toby Spouth
Toby Spouth did run his mouth
And spoke of nobles with laughter
For these small slights he lost his rights
And couldn’t stop smiling thereafter
Toby said he’d fight till dead
A duel he did propose
He tripped instead, fell on his head
And landed on top of his nose
Toby stood up, and cursed his luck
Expecting to be excused
But someone rushed in, and making a din
Of wizardry he was accused
So now we all go back to court
To watch poor Toby’s new trial
Maybe this time, he’ll toe the line
And save us the pain of denial.
Children of Valdev
Round, round, round they go,
Heading where? I do not know
Through the town and square they flow
Starring role of everyone’s show
Loud, loud, loud are they
For what purpose? I could not say
Covered in mud, and seeds, and hay
To them the world’s their personal play
Quiet, quiet, quiet please
There’s been enough frivolity
I need fine wine and strongest cheese
That I may write my books in peace.
Ballade of lost beginnings
From a womb of cloud and stone
I fell upon the earth
Swallowed by sea I settled ‘mong bones
And sank to Metztli's mirth
"Now my soul will be weighed and worthed"
I sobbed, wailed and cried
But the mercy of death cannot be gi'en
To those who cannot die.
I gazed upon my birthplace there
Suspended in skies above
Then felt a presence coming near
That promised not warmth, nor care, nor love.
“Thou art lost”, the daemon said,
“Doomed ‘fore your mortal life.
For the mercy of death cannot be gi’en
To those who cannot die.”
I know that men have often sought
To cheat the laws of death
But what’s a life of endless thought
Within such darkened depths?
With bloodied hand, the daemon offer’d
A return to fairer skies
Where the mercy of death could again be gi’en
To one who could not die.
So judge me not for every breath
I take with hollowed chest,
For I paid the highest price of all
To walk with mortal flesh.
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