|
The Modern Antiquarian Forum » Megalithic Poems |
Log In to post a reply
|
|
|
|
| Topic View: Flat | Threaded | |
Nick Tasker 12 posts |
Edited Oct 09, 2006, 10:48
Aug 31, 2005, 11:31
|
||
|
Another poem by Kipling. This one comes from Rewards and Fairies, which was the sequel to Puck of Pook's Hill. Both of these books contain short stories interspersed with poems, all relating to the theme of bringing history to life through the physical traces we find in the landscape. All of these poems were originally written as songs, and Peter Bellamy finally did them justice by putting them to music. Look out for two of Bellamy's CDs: Oak, Ash and Thorn, and also Merlin's Isle of Gramarye. The following poem is beautifully interpreted on the latter. What is rare about this poem is that it takes the perspective of Neolithic Man, impressed by the discovery of metal, rather than the perspective of the intellectual looking back through time. Song of the Men's Side (Neolithic) Rudyard Kipling -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ONCE we feared The Beast—when he followed us we ran, Ran very fast though we knew It was not right that The Beast should master Man; But what could we Flint-workers do? The Beast only grinned at our spears round his ears— Grinned at the hammers that we made; But now we will hunt him for the life with the Knife— And this is the Buyer of the Blade! Room for his shadow on the grass—let it pass To left and right—stand clear! This is the Buyer of the Blade—be afraid! This is the great god Tyr! Tyr thought hard till he hammered out a plan, For he knew it was not right (And it is not right) that The Beast should master Man; So he went to the Children of the Night. He begged a Magic Knife of their make for our sake. When he begged for the Knife they said: "The price of the Knife you would buy is an eye!" And that was the price he paid. Tell it to the Barrows of the Dead—run ahead! Shout it so the Women's Side can hear! This is the Buyer of the Blade—be afraid! This is the great god Tyr! Our women and our little ones may walk on the Chalk, As far as we can see them and beyond. We shall not be anxious for our sheep when we keep Tally at the shearing-pond. We can eat with both our elbows on our knees, if we please, We can sleep after meals in the sun, For Shepherd of the Twilight is dismayed at the Blade, Feet-in-the-Night have run! Dog-without-a-Master goes away (Hai, Tyr, aie!), Devil-in-the-Dusk has run! Then: Room for his shadow on the grass—let it pass! To left and right—stand clear!. This is the Buyer of the Blade—be afraid! This is the great god Tyr!
|
|||
|
Wiggy 1696 posts |
Aug 31, 2005, 18:34
|
||
|
...It's almost alright. I like the last couplet, but he lets himself down with the "Gigantic leg". I guess the good thing about Shelley is that he leaves us to infer the fate of our own civilisation, while HS spells it out. They both sound great in my head when imagined in the voice of Benny Hill - don't ask me why!
|
|||
Littlestone 5386 posts |
Aug 31, 2005, 21:39
|
||
|
Thanks Nigel and Nick for those contributions - fascinating and much appreciated. When I first started collecting <b>Megalithic Poems</b> I was afraid there would be very few of them about; amazingly, they have continued to trickle in from TMA contributors, from folks on other Lists and from elsewhere. The poems are usually (though not always) penned by someone other than the person who sends them in but I'm sure there must be many more out there written by people who are perhaps too shy to share them publicly. If you're one of those who doesn't want your poem to be placed in the public domain for the moment you can still send it, confidentially, to [email protected] Nothing will appear in the public without your consent. Thanks (and looking forward to reading some new megalithic poems :-)
|
|||
|
Littlestone 5386 posts |
Edited Oct 09, 2006, 11:07
Sep 12, 2005, 21:39
|
||
|
Today on Fendrith Hill I would speak words as stark as bones From here amongst the wind worn stones But whose words could be as stark as the sky? Or as wise as these stones? - Toppled by time, rugged, alone Today on Fendrith Hill I would sing you a song as endless as the wind It would rattle your windows at night And shriek like the naked storm But whose voice could haunt like the voice of the sky As it sighs around these stones? Forgotten, unheard it moans Today on Fendrith Hill The wind whispers a truth as old as the Earth Unutterable simplicity Spare and lean as a hare Honed down by the blasting wind To the barest of bones http://www.themodernantiquarian.com/site/3657
|
|||
|
Littlestone 5386 posts |
Edited Oct 09, 2006, 11:08
Sep 16, 2005, 12:10
|
||
|
With the Ashes safely back on England's green and pleasant land I've struggled a bit to combine the game of cricket with a Megalithic Poem :-) Most people are aware that the game of cricket is based on the structure of Stonehenge, with the stumps and bails representing the Stonehenge uprights and lintels. The cricket ball, of course, symbolises the solstice sunrise as it strikes it's way through the stumps ;-) This is not a megalithic poem but I'm happy to have found it again after many years and to share it with those with a shared passion for cricket and megaliths :-) Littlestone If the wild bowler thinks he bowls, Or if the batsman thinks he's bowled, They know not, poor misguided souls, They too shall perish unconsoled. I am the batsman and the bat, I am the bowler and the ball, The umpire, the pavilion cat, The roller, pitch, and stumps, and all. Andrew Lang
|
|||
|
nigelswift 8112 posts |
Edited Oct 09, 2006, 11:08
Sep 21, 2005, 10:02
|
||
|
Not poetry, but containing some prose that's so good it could be. And in praise of Shropshire, which makes it instantly true. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/main.jhtml?xml=/travel/2005/09/17/etshrop17.xml&sSheet=/travel/2005/09/17/ixtrvhome.html
|
|||
|
Littlestone 5386 posts |
Sep 21, 2005, 16:15
|
||
|
Yes, nice writing Nigel, especially (and appropriately) this passage - "I find myself a little conflicted on the best time to visit. To arrive in spring, when the cherry - "loveliest of trees" - flowers along the field margins and the copses thrill to the green woodpeckers' laughter, is fine; but I'm not sure I don't prefer the fire-colours of autumn, and the winds of the equinox: "On Wenlock Edge, the wood's in trouble."
|
|||
|
nigelswift 8112 posts |
Sep 21, 2005, 17:01
|
||
|
The bloke oozes natural talent, blast him. I like made up adjectives, it means you can take the English language and expand it to please yourself - About Much Wenlock... "You can have your Shaftesburys and Burfords, your Ledburys and Chipping Sodburys. For me, this small, half-timbered, red-brick, lobelia-hung, narrow-streeted, alleywayed, book-and-tea-shopped town, with its Elizabethan guildhall, is the supreme delight of urban-pastoral Britain. " (I particularly like that, as it's about time Shropshire kicked the West Country in the goollies).
|
|||
|
Littlestone 5386 posts |
Sep 21, 2005, 17:37
|
||
|
>(I particularly like that, as it's about time Shropshire kicked the West Country in the goollies).< Oi - I've been kicked in the goollies enough for one day :-) so lay orf our West Country ones ;-) Mind, Shropshire <i>does</i> sound lovely. Let's face it, Britain is just one of the most beautiful and fascinating places on the planet.
|
|||
|
nigelswift 8112 posts |
Sep 21, 2005, 17:46
|
||
|
"Let's face it, Britain is just one of the most beautiful and fascinating places on the planet." No arguments likely about that. I was in a Shropshire village yesterday, late September, perfect weather, every house a gem and drenched in flowers... Mind you, that bloke said Much Wenlock was red brick. It isn't. It's Wenlockian limestone. Maybe he's some metropolitan hack making a quid or two and has never been there...
|
| Pages: 97 – [ Previous | 1 … 7 8 9 10 11 12 | Next ] | Add a reply to this topic |
|
|
|
| The Modern Antiquarian Forum Index | |
