THL Atticus Nothus

THL Atticus Nothus 

(an Englyn Penfyr)

Crown Tourney calls Atticus to Caid
     The Danse Regal for this Fall
     Pairs fighters in martial brawl.  

Bernhardr’s bruins lumber to the field
     Their fate sealed, they now slumber
     Atticus leaves them humbler.

Beorn’s dolphin arises from the sea
     Attempting to seize the prize
     That fades before his eyes.

Across the battlefield strides Christian
     Atticus isn’t rattled
     Christian is left addled.

Iron-willed Rudolph faces Atticus
     August the battle engaged
     Rudolph now exits the stage.

Crown Tourney Day is off to a great start
     Atticus with light heart gay
     Faces Ursul in the fray.

The story’s now shown in another light
     Ursul’s frightful bears smother
     Atticus' hopes asunder.      

 Atticus shakes off this turn of events
     Mave mends his heart with a kiss
     And sends him back to the list.

 Lucius’ sea-lion bounds across the field
     Atticus reels him to ground
     With blows that are swift and sound.

Vedr’s two battle goats leap at the chance
     But glancing blows will not keep
     Them off an akimbo heap

 Atticus has a rematch with the bears
     He dares them to try and snatch
     His head, but it stays attached.

Wilhelm charges Atticus like a boar
     To gore him with wicked tusks
     And leave him a hollow husk.

Mave mends what she can for Atticus’ sake
     To take to the field his plan
     And keep a’wielding rattan.

Christian sees his chance to best Atticus
     Who trusts his skills to this test
      From his grasp victory is wrest.

One more fight just for fun ~ he greets Jamal
     And beats the eagle in flight
     Tho the clash gives Mave a fright.

The day is done and the Victor has won.
     Contenders home from the fray.
     On balance, quite a fine day.


     ~Mistress Philippa Llewelyn Schuyler
     ...Weaver of words and wadmal
 

Englyn Penfyr for Rudolph Fekter

 

Englyn Penfyr for Rudolph Fekter

Crown Tourney Day brings forth Caidan’s best

          To test their skills and mettle,

          All fighters in fine fettle.

 

A baron from far reaches strikes a pose

          ‘Gainst foes who heed battle’s cry

          Alas Rudolph gets the Bye.

 

Unfazed, he strides forth to fight Alsander

          This land to rule is the prize

          And shine in Amecia’s eyes.

 

Butterfly and reremouse clash in the air

          A daring battle ensues

          The baron is loath to lose.

 

Amecia tends to Rudolph’s grievous wounds

          And soon he’s fit for battle

          His spirit never rattled.

 

Notus Atticus, a balanced fighter

          To smite Rudolph is his quest

          Rudolph takes his final rest.

 

Crown Tourney advances without Rudolph

          Who’s doffed his armor and helm

          To watch who will rule this realm.

Mistress Philippa Llewelyn Schuyler ~ weaver of words and wadmal

Art & Poetry ~ A Collaboration

Annie Bissett participated in a collaboration of art and poetry.  One of her landscapes was chosen for a poet to create a poem.

What a wonderful project.  Heck, I'm a poet and an artist.  I need to give this some serious thought.

I have trouble writing about my art.  Perhaps writing a poem about it might help me with this.

I mean, fighter poems are basically poems about an image of a fighter on the field, or a spinoff of some sort, if it jumps off from the device, their heraldry.

Duke Sven Orfhendur ~ Fall Crown '23

Duke Sven Orfhendur

 

(Englyn Penfyr)

 

The orfhend sloth hangs from a mighty tree:

    Loth to leave his leafy shade

    Thwacks Yasuke with his blade.

 

The orfhend sloth hangs from a mighty tree:

    Spies the stalwart fighter Paul

    Strikes a blow to make him fall.

 

The orfhend sloth hangs from a mighty tree:

    Three black swans come sailing by

    Arland's gaggle forced to fly.

 

The orfhend sloth hangs from a mighty tree:

    Sven's chances now are slimmer

    He's knocked down by Thorgrimmr.

 

 The orfhend sloth hangs from a mighty tree:

    Shakes his head and up he goes

    Ready for more battle blows.

    

 The orfhend sloth hangs from a mighty tree:

    Gouttes of blood bedeck the field

    Killian's fate has now been sealed.

 

The orfhend sloth hangs from a mighty tree:

    Tryyggr, who would be the king

    Makes Sven's doughty helmet ring.

 

The orfhend sloth hangs from a mighty tree:

    Sven Orfendur earned his rest

    Tourney day was just the best!

 

--Philippa Llewelyn Schuyler

...is a 15th century Burgundian wool merchant who thinks she's a 10th century Viking weaver.

Last Highlander Sonnet

 Found the fanzine my Highlander poetry was in: Rules of the Game #5, 1998.

On Guard, You Fool

(a Shakespearean Sonnet)

He's cocky, brash, a tabby alley cat
With lives enough for curiosity.
He'll travel far on brains and charm and chat
(Though further yet than even he can see).

His hard, protective shell of impudence
May rub you wrong, but crack it and you'll find
He's loyal to a fault without pretense;
A friend for all time, passionate and kind.

He doesn't always do as he is told--
It's not the way a street kid looks at life--
But in a pinch he'll come through good as gold,
No stranger to the winds of storm and strife.

In tux and tie or racing colors gay:
On guard, you fool--he'll wink your heart away.

--Ellen Shipley

One More

 Setting Pen to Paper

(The travels of William Pen of Guin)
(a silly poem)

What's black and white and red, you say?
A penguin in the heat of day.
Although he likes a cooler clime,
He bides in Careg Wen a time.

To view the choosing of the one
Who'll be the shire's champion.
As well. to see the one whom fate
Will pick to be protectorate.

He thinks our customs rather odd
(He's also been to Sothron Gaard),
So he has come to have a look.
When he gets home, he'll write a book:

A travelog for any pen
Who someday, too, may get a yen
to leave his cold and icy reaches
And bask on fair Caidan beaches.

 

--Philippa Llewelyn Schuyler

Fractured Nursery Rhyme

 Acrobat

(play on Twinkle, Twinkle)

Flicker, flicker,
    Little bat,
'Gainst the moon
    In silhouette.
Riding currents 
    Of the night
On your insectorial
    Flight. 

Homing in
    Upon your prey;
Hunt by dark
    And sleep by day.
Hang suspended
    From your bower--
Sipping nectar 
    At a flower. 

Shy, retiring
    Little beast,
Welcome to your
    Midnight feast.
Shun the owl,
    'Ware the cat.
Flicker, flicker,
    Little bat. 

--Philippa Llewelyn Schuyler