This is a story from Tallis Steelyard about Port Nain and the indomitable Maljie. Her Maljie sets about trying to do something about the terrible state or the orphanages.
The skies of lead
Press down on the roofs.
The icicles hang
Like teeth in the maw.
Each one a fang
In a wolf’s jaw.
The wind with his knife
Cuts through to the bone.
Soon snow will arrive
And the swallows have flown.
The trees that were green
Are now turned to white,
And everything’s seen
In a glowing bright light.
But look what I’ve found!
A tiny green shoot
Pushing up through the ground.
A snowdrop, no doubt.
It tells of the spring
Not so far away,
And how it will bring
All the flowers of May.
I have been very concerned by, and, yes, afraid, of the war of words between Kim Jong-un and Donald Trump. They both seem to be wanting a fight. This I can’t understand as it would be a war that cannot be won, and could be the end of humanity. Certainly it would be the end of society as we know it.
It would not end with the cessation of attacks. Such a war would leave a legacy of radiation and sickness for those left behind, and without the resources of medicine, millions more, who survived the blast, would die horribly. Think of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Those bombs are as children’s toys compared with what is available to the nuclear powers today’
Then there’s the ‘Nuclear Winter’ that would follow. Without the sun, plants would fail and there would be massive starvation. How can world leaders even consider such a dire possibility?
In the 1960s, people were afraid that a nuclear war was a very real possibility. After all, in 1960,it had only been 15 years, since the USA dropped a hydrogen bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It was also the era of the ‘cold war’, and everyone was afraid of Russia, or rather the USSR as it was then, a vast empire ruled by Russia. It was in this climate I wrote the following poem.
It is the only poem that exists from that time. It is also the only poem of mine ever to have been published before as a poem and not as part of a novel. It was published in the student magazine of UMIST, in Manchester.
A Plea for Peace
Now we have created something
That threatens to destroy.
One error, one mistake
And what is left for us
I see the ruins of a country
That once was powerful.
Now it is nothing but
Ruins, dust, decay
I hear the cries of suffering people
Many people, old and young
They cry in agony to God
Please give us peace
The only true peace we can have on Earth
Is through remembrance of our Saviour’s birth.
If you liked this poem, and have an opinion on the views it expresses, please add a comment in the comments section.
Each year I make all my own Christmas cards. On Sunday 3rd December I finished the final one for this year and am pretty pleased with them. I thought I’d let you guys have a look at some of my endeavours as it’s the Tuesday before Christmas.
VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL MY FOLLOWERS AND VISITORS.
I HOPE YOU ALL HAVE A WONDERFUL 2018 WHERE ALL YOUR DREAMS AND HOPES COME TRUE.
Grillon and Parador are two of the gods of Vimar, the world I created when I started to write The Wolves of Vimar Series.
Grillon is the god of Nature and wild things and Parador is the goddess of Agriculture. The legend is told each year on the first day of spring, which is also the start of the year on Vimar. The first month of the year is called after Grillon, and is known as Grilldar. It falls roughly the same time as mid-March to mid-April on Earth.
I hope you enjoy this poem, which also appears in the first book of The Wolves of Vimar, The Wolf Pack. The friends spend this day in Roffley on their way to find the Sword of the legendary king, Sauvern, who united the land of Grosmer.
On the eve of Grildar, morality is lax, and there are many children conceived at this time. They are considered as blessed, though, and are thought of as the children of the god, and not conceived of human males.
Legend of Grillon and Parador
One day the Lord of Nature was walking all alone
When beside a hidden pool a lovely sight was shown.
For bathing in the moonlight, where no-one should have been
Was a beauteous maiden, the loveliest he’d e’er seen.
Lord Grillon lost his heart to her
This maiden oh so fair.
He vowed that she would be his own
His life with her would share.
He showed himself at once to her
As forward he did tread.
She said “And who are you, good sir?
Should you not be abed?”
Oh lovely maid, my love, my life,
I ne’er will rest again.
Unless you come to be my wife
My heart will feel such pain.”
And so fair Parador was wed
To Grillon. She agreed
To always sleep within his bed
And others ne’er to heed.
But evil now will turn to dust
That love and bliss
For Barnat after her did lust
And swore she’d be his.
He poisoned Grillon’s mind and said
She was untrue
That she had been into his bed
And others too.
Lord Grillon he was truly sad
That she should treat him so.
He thought that he’d go truly mad
So far from her he’d go.
Now Parador had done no wrong
To deserve this fate.
She could not any more be strong
Beneath Lord Grillon’s hate.
So mourn she did and all the world
Did join with her in sorrow.
All green things died and creatures curled
All safely in their burrow.
But in good time, Lord Grillon found
How false the god of war.
He came to her and he reclaimed
The love of his wife once more.
So once again the land grew green
And springtime came again.
And summer’s warmth and life serene
While she forgot her pain.
And so each year the land remembers
The love of Parador
And autumn comes and winter’s embers
Till Spring returns once more.
This ought to have been published in the winter, but I didn’t get round to it, so I’m publishing it today. Anyway, it’s still technically winter! Hope you enjoy it.
Snow covers the ice-hard ground
And ponds and lakes are frozen.
All is muffled, every sound.
The birds are silent in the trees,
No moths or butterflies or bees
Just snowflakes by the dozen.
The moon is full and her pale light
Shines gently through the flakes.
But creatures shiver through the night.
The icy wind makes branches quiver
And every living thing to shiver
In trees and hills and lakes.
Across the field there trots a fox.
An owl flies by on silent wings.
On the frozen lake, some ducks.
As snow falls gently on them all,
And cattle low within their stall
We are waiting for the spring.
I welcome all your comments, so please add yours.