THL Gunner Von Lichtenburg

 

THL Gunner Von Lichtenburg ~ Spring '23

 

Pantoum for a Warrior

 

A good day dawned for Caid’s warriors’ dance:

Another spin around the tourney field.

A golden eagle sprang from an argent oak

In a cloud of silver dragonflies.

 

Another spin around the tourney field –

All those hopefuls vying for the crown –

In a cloud of silver dragonflies

Strode forth a doughty lord from Lichtenburg.

 

All these hopefuls vying for the crown,

A horseman among them with sword and spear.

Impaled, the doughty lord from Lichtenburg

Sought the healing balm of the oaken bower.

 

The horseman progressed with sword and spear

To battle on; the eagle flapped his wings,

Sought the healing balm of the oaken bower

And rose restored to take the field once more.

 

To battle on the eagle flapped his wings,

Espied a baron from his lofty height

And rose restored to take the field once more

To fight a warrior for the crescent crown.

 

Espied, the baron, in his lofty height

Of golden towers took up the challenge

To fight the eagle for the crescent crown.

Victorious, the Baron Somerset

 

Of golden towers bested the challenger,

Gunner, the hapless lord from Lichtenburg

Who fought a knight and baron for the crown,

Now lying on the cold Caidan ground.

 

Gunner, the hapless lord Von Lichtenburg,

A golden eagle sprung from an argent oak,

Though lying on the cold Caidan ground

Had a good day in Caid’s warriors’ dance.

 

Mistress Philippa Llewelyn Schuyler

What Churl Has Pluckt ~ Fighter Poem for Andrea

 

Sir Andrea

(ballad)

 

What churl has pluckt the yellow rose

And cast it to the ground,

As if ‘twere but a common weed

And not a fleur renowned?

 

Who was it who did not admire

This prize in full fair bloom,

Who cut it to its tender stalk

And wrought untimely doom?

 

What fellow crushed it’s yellow head—

Tore petals from the boll,

And set them spiraling to earth

Asunder from the whole?

 

Whose foot then trod them in the loam,

As from the field he strolled,

Abandoned with their heady scent

Commingling with the mold?

 

It must have been a loveless soul

To wreak such wanton woe,

For all Caid, ‘tis surely known,

Esteemed Andrea so.

 

--Philippa Llewelyn Schuyler

 

Not sure which Crown this was, but it's for Andrea and calls her a yellow rose.  I'm sure I can find it somewhere.  It may be in here already, just don't know what it's called.

Lord Richard atte Valeye ~ Fall 2022

 

Lord Richard atte Valeye

(villanelle)

An eagle – double-headed – casting ‘round

Talons flexing and eager for the fray,

One head forward-looking, one scanning down.

 

A wary argent lion hears the sound

Of wings a-beat and spies the bird of prey:

An eagle – double-headed – casting ‘round.

 

Battle met; the eagle is brought to ground,

The bird springs skyward, barely flies away

One head forward-looking, one scanning down.

 

A wing’ed fighter, formerly tree-bound

Bedeviling in his apian way

An eagle – double-headed – casting ‘round.

 

The double-beak’ed bird snaps all around

But cannot bring the bee a-buzz to bay.

One head forward-looking, one scanning down.

 

In  mighty combat the eagle was downed.

Lord Richard did not win a crown this day: 

An eagle – double-headed – casting 'round

One head forward-looking, one scanning down.

 

-- Mistress Philippa Llewelyn Schuyler

...weaver of words and wadmal

 

Garden Plots ~ sestina

 I found a sestina I forgot I wrote in 2009.  [I did find it when I looked at the label sestina.  So yay.]

 

Garden Plots

Not the ages of man, but of woman
occupy my thoughts in these passing hours,
passing now with no deliberate care
whatsoever, if once again the sleep
I seek mocks me tauntingly.  So it leaves
me mulling over the life I have made.

Was I ever that buoyant child who made
mud pies in the yard, cloning the woman
who could turn out a pie dotted with leaves
of flaky crust lovingly crafted hours
upon hours, perhaps even in her sleep,
nurturing body and soul with such care?

When in the springtime of my life, what care
did I have for the future?  As a maid
I was timeless, ageless, I slept the sleep
of innocence.  I blossomed into woman-
hood full of ideas to fill the hours
to bursting, all those green unfurling leaves.

A wandering vine took root and our leaves
entwined to form a sturdier plant, care-
fully nurtured and tended.  In the hours
of loving husbandry as we two made
a garden together, man and woman,
a sprout grew wild and free in our sleepy

valley plot.  Seasons pass as dreams in sleep;
a day dawns when our sprout ups-root and leaves
for new vistas.  This can hit a woman
hard, this bare nursery.  It took some care
to plant anew, germinating plans made
to stuff the once full but now hollow hours.

What was fallow bloomed in time; now the hours
weight lightly on my mind.  No time for sleep
it seems, as plantings old and new have made
an oasis in the desert.  New leaves
have turned, and if they are gold-tinged I care
not.  A mature garden suits this woman.

Happy is the woman who fills the hours
given her with care.  When she drifts asleep
to dreams of falling leaves, her peace is made.

Ellen Shipley (c) 2009

Sir Parmenio Bassarion ~ Spring 2020

Sir Parmenio Bassarion

Fighter poem ~ Pantoum

From the dire coast of Thermopylae

To the fair shores of Calafia

Parmenio came for the sword play

That might lay a wreath on Mattea.

From the fair shores of Calafia

They journeyed forth on Crown Tourney day

That might lay a wreath on Mattea

Should Parmenio win through the fray.

They journeyed forth on Crown Tourney day

Along with many a fighter stout

Parmenio must face in the fray

            And best opponents in every bout.

Along with many a fighter stout

            Came Baron Rudolph to test his sword

And best opponents in every bout.

            Parmenio laid him on the sward.

First came Rudolph to test his sword

            Next came Lord Reinholdt, a man at arms.

Parmenio laid him on the sward

Now buoyed by fate and his lady’s charms.

After Lord Reinholdt, the man at arms

            Strode THL Pansa (who would be king).

Buoyed by his fate and his lady’s charms;

            Dumbstruck when Pansa made his helm ring.

Away strode Lord Pansa (who would be king)

            Parmenio sought his lady’s arts.

Dumbstruck when Pansa made his helm ring

            Mattea soothed his wounds and his heart.

Parmenio sought his lady’s arts

            And sprang afresh to the tourney field

Mattea soothed his wounds and his heart

            Parmenio made Sir Nicolo yield.

He sprang afresh to the tourney field

            Ready to take them, come one and all

Parmenio made Sir Nicolo yield

            Then turned to face the Crown Tourney brawl.

Ready to take them, come one and all

            Parmenio faced Count Makandro.

He turned to face in Crown Tourney brawl

            Then fell at last to a mighty blow.

Parmenio faced Count Makandro

            His wound too grave for any to mend.

He fell at last to a mighty blow

            His Crown Tourney journey at an end.

His wounds were grave, but one day they’ll mend

            And once again to battle he’ll roam.

Crown Tourney journey is at an end,

            Knight and Lady return to their home.

And once again to battle he’ll roam

            And might lay a wreath on Mattea.

Knight and Lady return to their home

            To the fair shores of Calafia.

 

--Mistress Philippa Llewelyn Schuyler

Duke Sven Orfhendur ~ Fall 2019

Sven & Ismay ~ fighter poem

I think that I shall never see

A sloth a’dangling from a tree.

A tree whose green and leafy shade

Conceals a squirrely escapade.

Around and round and up and down

The squirrels cavort above the ground.

Chittering, chattering, leaping

Over the treed sloth a’sleeping.

Shaking off the squirrels and slumber,

Ericward, begins to lumber

Sloth in search of merry thwacking,

Seeking out some friendly whacking.

A golden eagle spies the sloth

Claws a’clicking in his wroth.

Lackadaisical tree-hugger

Ouch! No match for aerie mugger.

Dizzy sloth, his brain a’pounding

Shakes it off, his strength rebounding.

Scans the field with fortitude,

Hears a shriek to curl the blood.

Screaming from the sky a dragon

Parti-colored wings a’flappin’.

Slothy claws are made for grasping;

Dragon’s claws just leave him gasping.

Arial warriors are no fun

Besides it’s hot here in the sun.

Perhaps the squirrely cavalcade

Is worth a dangle in the shade.

~ Pippin Skylark

...always tart and crisp

Fall 2019

Sir Edward Castleguard ~ Spring'19

Sir Edward Castleguard

(embellished awdl)

Silver wing’ed mythic beast

Eagle claws and lion feet

Climbs the sky with every beat,

Searching for a battle meet:

Win by right a regal seat

Comes Edward Castleguard.

From the vale of azure hue

Verdant islands ringed in blue

Good sir knight and lady true:

Mistress Krystyan del la Poole

And Edward Castleguard.

Answering the heralds’ call

Doughty fighters one and all

Crescent crown holds each in thrall;

Come to dance a martial brawl

Has Edward Castleguard.

Lighting on the field of play

Basking in Crown Tourney day

Eager now to join the fray

Claws a’click to flench his prey

Stands Edward Castleguard.

Master Christian de Guerre

Takes the eric with a flair

Sporting shoes of azure rare.

Griffin swooping from the air

Snatching, snarfs the blue footwear!

Grins Edward Castleguard.

Bounding forth a bullock Or

Bellowing a mighty roar

Shakes most foremen to the core.

Swooping, tramples bull to gore

Does Edward Castleguard.

Duke Mansur of Araby

Horseman of the Cavalry

Spies the griffin gleefully;

Hooves that beat a timpani

Cross the eric sending scree

O’er Edward Castleguard.

Dazed, a’wobble, takes the sky

Griffin with a mighty cry

Challenges an eagle high;

Sharp claws strike and feathers fly!

Sir Jamal whose end is nigh

By Edward Castleguard.

Buoyed by this turn of fate

Basking in his happy state

Thirst for blood he plans to sate:

Lays a snare a sloth to bait

Does Edward Castleguard.

Sven the sloth is deadly fast

With his sinister reach vast

Lo the battle die is cast

Thwack! And griffin breathes his last

Poor Edward Castleguard.

Krystyan’s truelove’s day is done

Soared too high and touched the sun;

Crown goes to another one.

Ending now his tourney run

It sure was a lot of fun!

Smiles Edward Castleguard. 

--Mistress Philippa Llewelyn Schuyler

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