Wear your boots and wipe your feet

I don’t mean this to be any shameless self-promotion for my husband’s blog, but, hey, if that’s one of the side effects, I’ll not refuse it.  Bob has always loved dinosaurs, and all things big and monster-y.  He would get in trouble in school for drawing those big, green lizards instead of paying attention in class, and now as he approaches retirement, he’s allowing his childhood fantasies to turn into adult aspirations.  I’ve even encouraged him to take up pen and ink and start illustrating his own books, and in so doing, I’ve created a monster of my own! (Kidding—“behind every great man there stands…”)

From “The Staff in the Tree” by Robert L Jones, III, on Pneumythology

So his site, Pneumythology, deals with mythical stories and beasts of incredible imagination (not just his own, but throughout history) as well as eliciting inferences from the superheroes of ancient Rome and Greece and DC and Marvel. 

Now, I hope this is taken the right way, but

The Kraken (conclusion)

The final installment of the The Kraken, by Robert L. Jones, III.  To start from the beginning, click HERE!

From The Kraken, by Robert L. Jones, III and illustrated by James P. Wood

 

XVI. Benediction

With Kraken gone, the fearful folk returned to ply the sea,

And safety made the legend pass, though inadvertently.

A town was founded near the place where Galen’s cottage stood.

Where once a barren coast had been, there grew a neighborhood.

 

So Galen’s fame was scarcely known, but heroes must be paid.

He used his bellows and his forge to work the blacksmith’s trade.

At times, he fashioned stranger things, though most did not know why,

And, with his arm around Celeste, would stare into the sky.

 

Their union prospered in its way for those who cared to see

That Galen and his winsome bride were blessed with progeny

Of fairest skin on stoutest limb and fire behind their eyes.

They raised them well and lovingly and taught them to be wise.

 

They taught them work and taught them play, made sure that they were fed,

And told them stories in the night, then tucked them into bed.

As seasons changed, they watched them grow till they were straight and tall,

By young desire distracted from the saddles on the wall.

 

And, one by one, they saw them leave, when they were fully grown,

To found new homes with spouses fair and children of their own.

There is a way, mad by design, a way that wisdom makes,

To set the young at liberty to make their own mistakes.

 

And, one by one or all at once, the children would return,

The cottage glowing in the night with candle wax to burn.

They laughed and ate. Some went outside to play or walk around,

No longer knowing what they paced had once been sacred ground.

 

Their father told his history repeatedly, and yet,

Through unfamiliarity, descendants will forget.

And so he hammered weaponry and saved it for the days

Another generation would embrace heroic ways.

 

Some undergo the humble change from ridicule to fear

As those once sheltered made aware of danger drawing near,

But some remember righteous thoughts, discovered in their youth,

Of better dreams and simpler ways that turn them to the truth.

 

In times of pride and apathy, depending on the year,

There well might come a moment when a Kraken will appear.

As some are lost or made aware, the cycle starts again

To test the motivations that direct the hearts of men.

 

Still, man and wife would spend their days in faith and blessedness,

Commend themselves to higher things, and frequently confess

That tribulation comes to teach the lessons all must learn

In preparation for the day the griffins will return.

To order The Kraken, by Robert L. Jones, III and illustrated by James P. Wood, click HERE.

The Kraken (#15)

(Pssst…In case you missed any, you can start from the beginning at THIS LINK.)

From: gizemlervebilinmeyenler.blogspot.com and copied from Alejandro Quijano pintrest (Kinda scary, right?)

XV. The Restoration of All Things

A transformation soon ensued from Lordly Griffin wild

To lion then to bleeding lamb, both terrible and mild,

Who laid his wounded head upon the morbid maiden’s breast.

The color came into her cheeks. She breathed as if at rest

 

And then exhaled with softened moan to Galen’s glad surprise

As, with a start, she sat upright and opened long-shut eyes.

The former mist from when she first walked plainly in his sight

Was missing now, and in its place there shined a brighter light.

 

A bleat turned to a lion’s roar and then an eagle’s screech,

Then, suddenly, the Griffin King flew upward out of reach.

As Galen gazed upon the lass, revived in time of need,

From north and west the prophet flew, approaching on his steed.

 

Alighting next, he looked around, excitement on his face,

And smiled at Galen as he said, “Recipient of grace,

Believe your eyes. Be not surprised. It is the right of kings

To fashion something beautiful from dead and broken things.

 

“Now would it be too much to ask, what is this maiden’s name?”

She rose and spoke in wondrous tones, “Through trial I became

More of myself for this good man who sought to know me best.

My parents named me for the stars. Dear sir, I am Celeste.”

 

He joined the couple hand in hand, then to the griffins led.

A far off look was in his eyes as joyfully he said,

“Celeste and Galen, rise and fly. There are but saddles two.

Consent to take one final gift I have to offer you,

 

“In wedded bliss to live within my cottage by the sea,

But here I’ll die. Then this good host will take what’s left of me

To safer shores beyond the veil of this world’s atmosphere

To bow before the Griffin King in reverential fear.

 

“Life’s vivid moments rise and fall like waves upon the shore.

Each breaker passes over me. I want for nothing more.

My sojourn by the ocean past, and, now, my waiting through,

My course is flown. I am fulfilled in what I’ve done for you.”

 

So, tearfully, with warm embrace, they bade their friend goodbye

And, later, perched on griffin backs, conversed within the sky.

They shouted high upon the wind and spoke of many things

Until they reached that happy shore on which the ocean sings.

 

Then, earnestly, they made their vows among the griffin host

And went inside to contemplate what they both treasured most.

They hung their saddles on the wall, forever, some would say.

For after that enchanted ride, the griffins flew away.

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT THURSDAY…dot…dot…dot!!

The old-fashioned, hand-held, page-turning and fully illustrated version can be ordered at Amazon.com, by Robert L Jones, III and illustrated by James P. Wood.

The Kraken #9

(Pssst…In case you missed the first part, you can start from HERE.)

From: gizemlervebilinmeyenler.blogspot.com and copied from Alejandro Quijano pintrest (Kinda scary, right?)

IX. The Prodigal

In horror, Galen climbed the mast as high as he could go.

It quickly slipped beneath the waves. He fought the undertow.

Then as the deadened ship went down, a living orca came

In black and white with fearsome maw. Somehow it seemed quite tame

 

Though wild and unpredictable, in nature so complete.

As it approached, it lowered first and nudged at Galen’s feet.

By faith, he clambered on its back and held its dorsal fin.

They swam out of the undertow that tried to pull him in.

 

His deadly ride with power coursed across the northern sea

And bore him toward a place of undisclosed identity.

They travelled on for many days and then for some days more

Until the orca shook him off and pushed him to the shore.

 

He recognized the rocky coast, the cottage walls in white,

The person gazing back at him with look of stern delight.

He had not seen that wizened face for seven years, at least.

From obligation to return he had not been released.

 

His misadventures of the past careened within his brain.

He’d seen enough of tragedy to drive some men insane,

And as he kneeled and fought the surf, now sadder, not yet wise,

An undetermined stare betrayed the fire behind his eyes.

 

The prophet eyed him carefully. “I know where you have been,

To take your vengeance on a beast with help of doubtful men.

There was no time to do this right the first time that you tried,

But you have failed. The Kraken lives, and you have nearly died.

 

“Despite your humble circumstance and passion long denied,

I see some future benefit. Now here you will abide

To grow in strength and courage and to train your faculties

To trust in unseen help and learn to calm these troubled seas.

 

“An unclean vessel drew you forth. A better drew you back,

Authentic in its name, supplied to give you what you lack.

I see you have sufficiently been baptized by the sea.

Instead of striking forth alone, you should have come to me.”

 

The wayward man unsteadily arose to gain his feet,

Reluctantly, respectfully, his former friend to greet.

He stood and wavered, scarce could walk, not knowing what to say,

But there was peace between them both in fading light of day.

 

He staggered forward as a child, his elder within reach,

And longed to hear the principles that wiser men might teach.

Collapsing in the prophet’s arms, his vision now in doubt,

He managed but the faintest smile then groaned while passing out.

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT THURSDAY!!

The Kraken (#6)

(Pssst…In case you missed the first part, you can start from HERE.)

From: gizemlervebilinmeyenler.blogspot.com and copied from Alejandro Quijano pintrest (Kinda scary, right?) 

The Kraken

By Robert L. Jones III (check it out at Pneumythology)

VI. The Apprenticeship

The night was spent with further conversation, food, and sleep.

When morning came, the boy set out with promises to keep.

His friend called out a proverb, enigmatic in its way,

“Expected change will surely come when night turns into day,

 

“And though you think this tragedy as bad as it can get,

If you will hearken to me, you will come by comfort yet

To know the situation isn’t what it seems to be.

The Kraken can obscure, but never feed on, purity.”

 

As Galen walked back toward his home along the stony beach,

Though none appeared, he thought he heard a flock of eagles screech

A cry unbound by space and time, its timbre sharp and shrill,

Much like a trumpet’s battle call when sounded from a hill.

 

He turned to face the rising land, his back against the tide.

His winding path led through the hills and to his father’s side.

The good man chuckled at the news delivered by his son

That, of the trades he might have tried, he’d settled on this one.

 

Not knowing whether such a choice was by the boy’s device,

He said, “We’ll both give this a try, but start with this advice.

Though I don’t know the final goal on which your hopes are set,

Be durable and sure of hand. You’ll make a blacksmith yet.”

 

Comparing to his father’s build, his own was rather small,

But, owing to inheritance, he’d grow both broad and tall.

For seven years, he labored hard to learn his father’s trade,

And, with the passing of each one, the prophet’s words would fade.

 

By rambling thoughts of gallantry was Galen much amused.

About the daily sweat and toil he seemed much less enthused.

One day, while working at the forge, his father’s arms went slack.

He turned and spoke these solemn words while straightening his back,

 

“My son, you’ve grown and served me well. Regardless of your plan,

The time has come to make your way. Go forth. You are a man.”

He paid his wages, hugged his neck, but neither of them knew

That, once the son was gone, the father’s life would soon be through.

 

The end would come while Galen was constrained upon a ship,

Commissioned by mistaken choice, a nearly fatal slip.

With freedom gained and body strong, it’s typical that he

Forgot the prophet’s sayings of what he was meant to be.

 

A little truth can lead astray such youthful confidence.

He still retained his childish zeal but wanted common sense.

His pockets full of silver coins, away from home he turned,

From father’s trade and prophet’s way, from skills and lessons learned.

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT THURSDAY (dot, dot, dot!!)

THE KRAKEN (Part #2)

(Pssst…In case you missed the first part, you can start from HERE.)

From: gizemlervebilinmeyenler.blogspot.com and copied from Alejandro Quijano pintrest (Kinda scary, right?)

The Kraken

By Robert L. Jones III (check it out at Pneumythology)

II. Down From the Hills

Far from the ocean lived a lad who roamed about the land

And learned to make his presence scarce when there was work at hand.

He hiked the forests of the hills to set his fancy free,

Pretending that the wooded slopes were some great, frozen sea.

 

His father worked a blacksmith’s forge, the glowing metal hit

With hammering and strength of arm to make the iron fit

For many tasks as instruments that render work complete.

He fashioned plows and pruning hooks and shoes for horses’ feet.

 

Of mother’s gentle, guiding touch the boy had been denied.

They said it was at point of birth the blacksmith’s wife had died.

More than a few considered him a coarse, unruly child,

For while his father made their tools, he grew up stout and wild.

 

But, nonetheless, the father’s role was more than what it seemed.

Upon his knee at night, his son heard parables and dreamed

Of perfect things, invisible, beyond experience,

Of great dimension, fantasies contrived from common sense.

 

Young boys become young men although it’s hard to say just when,

And, on the way, in innocence, romantic thoughts begin.

One day, he sauntered through the hills with nothing much to do

When, in a vision, from the ground a perfect woman grew.

 

He could not see her clearly as she moved among the trees.

The breeze became her whisper, his companion at his ease.

As often as he waded in some pleasant summer’s dream,

He felt her fluid fingers on his ankles in the stream.

 

Her footsteps traced across the roots. Her willow waist would bend

In rhythm with the trunks of trees that bowed before the wind,

And slender ankles flashed along the dappled forest floor,

Approaching then receding as he sought to see her more.

 

He chased her all that summer, but her face he could not see.

No speed afoot could satisfy his curiosity.

At start of fall, that season when the leaves begin to turn,

His youthful pulse was quickened, and his chest began to burn.

 

Then came the day he lost all track of normal time and place,

Absorbed in contemplation of that fair but hidden face.

The vision pulled him far from home and into fading light.

At length, he stopped and kneeled to hear her breathing in the night.

 

He ran for days from tree to tree and bounded hedge to hedge

Through farms on lower slopes until he chanced on water’s edge.

The ocean wore its atmosphere, a gray and clouded hood,

And there his fervent running ceased, for there she clearly stood.

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT THURSDAY!!

THE KRAKEN #1

Epic poetry, once a valued art form, has seemingly fallen upon hard times.  When was the last time you heard someone, anyone, extol the likes of Evangeline (I know I’ve never read it, but it was one of my mom’s faves), or The Aeneid (I did read that one, and maybe ingested about 70%).  I think of story poems as the opera of the written word: beautifully done, and woefully under-appreciated. 

So for the next several Thursdays in the “Not My Poetry” category, I’m introducing a new, soon-to-be published epic poem in short installments..  The author, Robert L. Jones III (of the blogsite, Pneumythology), playfully describes the writing style as “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner meets Dr. Seuss”, and if you know his site at all, inside of this grown man is a little boy who still loves big scary monsters.

And so, blogging world, I give you—

From: gizemlervebilinmeyenler.blogspot.com and copied from Alejandro Quijano pintrest (Kinda scary, right?)

The Kraken

By Robert L. Jones III (check it out at Pneumythology)

I. Invocation

The legend hails from northern seas, a tale that few know well,

Where faith and fear blow freely on the gray and changing swell.

Mark well the drift of this account, and come to understand

That humble and heroic things go often hand in hand.

 

Great beauty can arise somehow from ugly circumstance

Till on the heaps of tragedy brave men and angels dance

And find the grace to pause and hear the song that heaven sings,

The offered  joy of common folk, philosophers, and kings.

 

A struggle of the soul that found occasion to express

Its failure and its victory through physical duress,

This tale begins within the depths of ignorant despair

Wherein a monster threatened all who breathed the ocean air.

 

Reports would come to colder ports and spread from place to place

That ships on northern routes had disappeared without a trace.

Alleged survivors’ recollections met with mirth and scorn.

Some said from superstition’s womb the Kraken had been born.

 

The rumors flourished in the minds of those disposed to think

A pair of cold, unearthly eyes observed them from the drink,

And arguments flew back and forth till from a harbor town

Some citizens and seamen saw a merchant ship go down

 

In tangled mass of tentacles and blackened, churning foam,

A masted vessel splintered but a quarter mile from home.

The wreckage drifted in for nights and littered many days,

But not a man clung to the boards that floated in the haze.

 

From then, it seemed that none would dare to walk along the shore.

The legend grew from mouth to mouth in neighborhood and store.

In taverns next to many docks where ships would come and leave,

Men gathered over food and ale to listen and believe.

 

How thoughtfully they chewed their meals, digesting tale on tale.

Such sessions often went till dawn, when, filled with too much ale,

Some stouter men drew courage from within the barrel staves

And so resolved to cast their lots upon the open waves.

 

To gamble thus and play the odds such manly pride knows well.

Courageously misguided steps lead often into Hell.

Some sailed and lived. Some sailed and died, not knowing what it cost.

Some owners of their ships retired with fortunes made or lost.

 

Within the course of daily life, where time can break or mend,

On this delayed trajectory, who knows how it will end?

In times of choice and consequence, but few had thought it through,

And as their lives passed slowly by, the Kraken fed and grew.

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT THURSDAY!!