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No Power in the ‘Verse
He aims to misbehave does Cap’n Mal,
Peripatetic rebel ~ just because.
Serenity’s the name and rationale
He gave his little piece of Earth-that-was.
Zoe’s got his back and Book his soul
Inara owns his heart, if he but knew;
Simon has a River to control
Wash and Jayne and Kaylee round the crew.
Bedeviling Blue Sun seems all the game
To wrest away the spoils Alliance took.
Any job with honor bears no shame
It fits the hold, it’s worth a second look.
He’s simply drawn to trouble – it’s a knack.
No power in the ‘Verse can hold him back.
-- Ellen Shipley
This will be our 40th issue of the Fighter Poem Collection. We've been doing them for 20 of their 34 years. The first one was in our Principality days, A.S. XI, spring of '77. We started doing them fall of '91.
Ironically this will be one of our smallest books, with only 16 contenders. Sadly it will also contain some elegies for Rorik, who just died in China.
Elegy for a Garden Lizard
Little sun basker, stretching in the light
Soaking up rays your singular delight
Sidewalk surfer, always under foot
Darting and dashing when you should stay put
Stucco trekker, clamoring up the wall
Tiny tree hugger, wonder you don’t fall
Sure-footed gripper, snacking on a gnat
Patio streaker, quicker than the cat
Grass blade wriggler, leaving naught a wake
Skittering lightly, stealthy as a snake
Suburban jungle wee backyard creeper
Sad grim victim of the rotary Reaper.
-- Ellen Shipley
Sir Halfdan Haroldsson
fallen in Spring Crown Tourney, A. S. XLIV
Fornyrðislag
From far cold climes Comes Halfdan Haroldsson
Seeking good fortune Fame for great deeds
Journeys to fair Caid Jewel of the Known World
Like Constantinople Land of his boyhood
A crown for the taking A kingdom to rule
Tempting to Halfdan To try his sword hand
Eager for battle Against great warriors
Fighters of renown From many lands hailing
Steps forth Ilia Stalwart bodyguard
Man of the Rus Merchant protector
Falls to Haroldsson Felled by the dragon
Another steps forward Answers his challenge
Ketill the armoror Keen to test his meddle
Fights bravely but Falls to Halfdan’s blows
Buoyed by his fortune ‘Burdened by victory
Halfdan calls out Rhys Horseman of Ravenscroft
The fighting goes fiercely The foeman triumphant
Suffering the loss Steady Halfdan fights on
Caid’s lands Call to the Varangian
Another fighter now Answers the call
Christian, a knight Closely matched in skills
A worthy opponent A warrior seasoned
Proves Halfdan’s undoing Unlooked for outcome
Halfdan is bested Heralds proclaim it
Thus ends the saga of Throne-seeking Halfdan
Far-traveled warrior Fit for great battles
Another is destined to Attain the Crescent Crown
Dragon-blazoned Halfdan Dreams of future victories
--Pippin Skylark
...always tart and crisp
Spring'10
Sir Mons von Goarshausen
fallen in Spring Crown Tourney, A.S. XLIV
(Rondel)
By rosemary we’ll know the one
The fates have smiled upon this day.
Sir Mons had hopes to end his run
In rosemary
But Snorri worked to bar his way--
A rabbit bounding in the sun.
A butterfly flew out to play--
He swatted Rudolph just for fun,
And Valrik’s dragon hit the clay.
'Til Vlad killed dreams that had begun
With rosemary.
— Mistress Philippa Llewelyn Schuyler
...is a 15th century Burgundian wool merchant who thinks she a 10th century Viking weaver.
Spring'10
Conde Francesc Miguel Joaquim Inacio
fallen in Fall Crown Tourney, A.S. XLV
The Running of the Bull
(a pantoum)
From Nordwache, the land of silver trees
A mighty bull embarks upon a quest.
To crown his lady with a wreath his geas;
To prove his right to rule by martial test.
A mighty bull enbarks upon a quest
The valley of the serephim the place
To prove his right to rule by martial test
He faces off a pack of wolves with grace.
The valley of the serephim the place
Where some have come to die and some to kill.
He faces off a pack of wolves with grace
And lands a blow that deals a deathly chill.
Where some have come to die and some to kill
--The nature of the game he’s come to play--
He lands a blow that deals a deathly chill;
Then leaves a demi-maid in disarray.
The nature of the game he’s come to play:
To face a friend across a tourney field,
Then leave a demi-maid in disarray
To sally forth again with sword and shield.
To face a friend across a tourney field:
A screaming eagle, talons dripping red.
To sally forth again with sword and shield
He's wounded sore, life hanging by a thread.
A screaming eagle, talons dripping red
Lays low the bull, his head-long charge assailed.
He's wounded sore, life hanging by a thread...
But this is not the end of the bull’s tale.
Laid low the bull, his head-long charge assailed.
Rise once more to gore a man a’horse.
But this is not the end of the bull’s tale
Though horseman puts an end to the bull’s course.
Rise once more to gore a man a’horse
--Flesh may fail, but ever spirit willing--
Though horseman puts an end to the bull’s course
Spring will bring Francesc more battles thrilling.
Flesh may fail, but ever spirit willing
To Crown his lady with a wreath his geas.
Spring will bring Francesc more battles thrilling
From Nordwache, the land of silver trees.
—Mistress Philippa Llewelyn Schuyler
...weaver of words and wadmal.
Fall'10
THLord Rudolf Fekter
fallen in Fall Crown Tourney, A.S. XLIV
(virelai - Smith’s Song)
Heart of the furnace give weight to my hand
Glowing before me the shape I command
Fashion a fate from the bones of the land
Gage for the dolphin’s crown.
Stand fast fortune is bountiful
Strike sure victory’s sting
Heart’s oath honor in flowering
Hand’s craft raises a king
Breeze on the battlefield lifts me to wing
Clothed in the fruit of the favor she brings
Gifts of the Lady whose grace I will sing
She of my soul’s remand.
Heart of the furnace give weight to my hand
Glowing before me the shape I command
Fashion a fate from the bones of the land
Gage for the dolphin’s crown.
Cold bite blades overpowering
Blows fall darkens the field
Head bowed grace at the boundary
Knee bent bested I yield
Quenched my ambition, my anguishes healed
Spirit resounds in my duty revealed
Honor the kingdom and stand as its shield
Rising to serve the van.
Heart of the furnace give weight to my hand
Glowing before me the shape I command
Fashion a fate from the bones of the land
Gage for the dolphin’s crown.
-- Lord Will Schuyler the Younger
... is a 15th century Englishman of uncertain destination: apprenticed to the wit of arithmetic, he still at times endeavors to court the muse.
