The Last Valkyrie
Eight Valkyries Eight there were
One fell her promise free And seven there were
One fell on the Bracken Lea Six there were
One clove her sword In lands afar
One faced the legate's cord Now four there are
Two fought, and fighting fell Two remain and live to tell
Another must fall And bleed on the stone
So the Valkyrie last Can stand alone
ELAshley
012416.025848.6
Revisions:
012516.051737.6
012616.051335.6
012616.054912.6
012716.032252.6
This is the jumping off point for the third book of my series "The Forge of Worlds". This book is titled, "The Last Valkyrie". No one reading this should infer that the characters and situations are even remotely 'Norse' in nature. The main character, Freya Grayl, is responsible for the Valkyries and their names, having chosen their Order and names simply because Freya's name is Scandinavian. Her motive was simply to create a personal body guard; to separate them from their people, by giving them names wholly alien from their culture and language set. The result of which was to doom each and every one. Including the last.
Carry Me (Carol)
Carol, it’s quiet, the fire burns low
I’d be asleep now but for something I’d know
If I weren’t a wanderer, been lost all these years
Would you be my lover for to ease all my tears
O, Carol, it’s me, I sing to the fire
Sing to the embers and humbly inquire
I’m coming home for to see if I may
Ask of your heart if in your arms I might lay
Carry me, Carol, Please carry me home
I’m tired of running, of being alone
Carry me, Carol, I want to wake from this dream
(Wash me in crimson and I will be clean)
Carry me, Carol, Please carry me home
Carol I’m dreaming, and everything’s black
I’m afraid that I’ve gone where there’s no coming back
I’ve seen my reflection in the windows I pass
A vagabond stranger stares back from the glass
O, Carol, it’s me, I sing to the fire
I sing to the embers and humbly inquire
May I please come home, I’m so tired and worn
And cursing the day I ever was born
Carry me, Carol, please carry me home
I’m tired of running, of being alone
Kiss me now, Carol, and I’ll awake from this dream
Wash me in crimson, and I will be clean
Carry me, carol, please carry me home
ELAshley
011316.115737.1
We'll Take Our Crumpets Now
ELAshley
011416.121535.6
Revisions:
011416.024035.6
011416.024730.6
011416.085720.6
011416.121535.6
Revisions:
011416.024035.6
011416.024730.6
011416.085720.6
Dear Mary Angel
Happy New Year,
A lot has happened in the past year, most of them realizations I've made; not things you can hold in your hand, but nonetheless significant in terms of what I've managed to accomplish. For one, I've discovered who I am. This may sound crazy-- fifty-five years old and finally understanding this basic truism, but...
Most everyone tends to identify themselves with their job-title, "I'm a doctor, I'm a janitor," and that's fine if that's all they aspire to be. If the purpose of their lives-- the great driving force and motivation, was to become a janitor? Okay. But I believe very few people, if they were honest with themselves, sees their occupation as the great driving force of their lives; their reason to be.
Take me, for instance. I've been a cook, a dishwasher, an X-ray supply tech. I've worked on the crew boats off the Texas and Louisiana coasts, I've strung cable for a cable company in Arkansas, I've managed a restaurant, I've produced the five, six, and ten o'clock news at a local station, I've worked on the web, built advertising, edited and made commercials. I've managed to squeeze in a lot of jobs in thirty-nine years, and yet, not a single one of them told the story of WHO I was at any given time. Who I am is a much larger story. It has taken the whole of my life tell. And it is not defined by any time-clock I've ever punched.
I am an Artist, broadly speaking, but more specifically, a writer, and a poet. Whether or not I ever earn a living as a poet and writer is irrelevant, because these are the driving forces that propel me forward. They are my reasons to be. These are the gifts God has given me; my talents. And I dare not bury them in the sand.
I believe that if everyone in the world were allowed and encouraged to nurture and grow that seed of "Being" within them, this would be a much calmer, more peaceful planet. Within everyone is a desire to create. We can't but help desire the art of creation; this desire was forged into every cell of our bodies from conception. This is the closest we get to being like Him, in this life.
I wish you all the best in this coming year. I wish you peace, love, and a greater, deeper longing for the You God created you to be.
All my love
E
A lot has happened in the past year, most of them realizations I've made; not things you can hold in your hand, but nonetheless significant in terms of what I've managed to accomplish. For one, I've discovered who I am. This may sound crazy-- fifty-five years old and finally understanding this basic truism, but...
Most everyone tends to identify themselves with their job-title, "I'm a doctor, I'm a janitor," and that's fine if that's all they aspire to be. If the purpose of their lives-- the great driving force and motivation, was to become a janitor? Okay. But I believe very few people, if they were honest with themselves, sees their occupation as the great driving force of their lives; their reason to be.
Take me, for instance. I've been a cook, a dishwasher, an X-ray supply tech. I've worked on the crew boats off the Texas and Louisiana coasts, I've strung cable for a cable company in Arkansas, I've managed a restaurant, I've produced the five, six, and ten o'clock news at a local station, I've worked on the web, built advertising, edited and made commercials. I've managed to squeeze in a lot of jobs in thirty-nine years, and yet, not a single one of them told the story of WHO I was at any given time. Who I am is a much larger story. It has taken the whole of my life tell. And it is not defined by any time-clock I've ever punched.
I am an Artist, broadly speaking, but more specifically, a writer, and a poet. Whether or not I ever earn a living as a poet and writer is irrelevant, because these are the driving forces that propel me forward. They are my reasons to be. These are the gifts God has given me; my talents. And I dare not bury them in the sand.
I believe that if everyone in the world were allowed and encouraged to nurture and grow that seed of "Being" within them, this would be a much calmer, more peaceful planet. Within everyone is a desire to create. We can't but help desire the art of creation; this desire was forged into every cell of our bodies from conception. This is the closest we get to being like Him, in this life.
I wish you all the best in this coming year. I wish you peace, love, and a greater, deeper longing for the You God created you to be.
All my love
E
Unbound
I wish for kinder words
Not swords, not knives
I wish for softer speech and tone
And peace for our lives
A better dream of the future
Where every word nurtures
A greater hope for our lives
For where is hope in cruelty?
Where is love in pain?
Where is kindness in beheadings
Religion of peace? Madness, I say
Beatings and immolations
A culture of predations
'This will be yours,' they say
Our dreams are inviolate
Our children treasured
The lives we lose to complacency
Cannot be measured
There's more to lose that freedom
And nothing gained by whoredom
The sins of which can't be measured
An ephemeral line, compromise
In giving up ground
Our God insists we stand in the gap
'gainst their heresies unsound
To live or die matters not
It matters if we stood and fought
Their calls to prayer un-sounded
I wish, I hope for peace
I dream, I pray for love
I wish the world the peace of God
Every blessing in trove
No sure footing lies before us
But I've faith in Him who made us
Who holds the Light, and trove
Where this leads, I wish I knew
I wish this beast we'd already slew
But I hope this year we resolve anew
To bear His light on and through
Unafraid, unflinching
Unbound
ELAshley
010316.034307.6
Not swords, not knives
I wish for softer speech and tone
And peace for our lives
A better dream of the future
Where every word nurtures
A greater hope for our lives
For where is hope in cruelty?
Where is love in pain?
Where is kindness in beheadings
Religion of peace? Madness, I say
Beatings and immolations
A culture of predations
'This will be yours,' they say
Our dreams are inviolate
Our children treasured
The lives we lose to complacency
Cannot be measured
There's more to lose that freedom
And nothing gained by whoredom
The sins of which can't be measured
An ephemeral line, compromise
In giving up ground
Our God insists we stand in the gap
'gainst their heresies unsound
To live or die matters not
It matters if we stood and fought
Their calls to prayer un-sounded
I wish, I hope for peace
I dream, I pray for love
I wish the world the peace of God
Every blessing in trove
No sure footing lies before us
But I've faith in Him who made us
Who holds the Light, and trove
Where this leads, I wish I knew
I wish this beast we'd already slew
But I hope this year we resolve anew
To bear His light on and through
Unafraid, unflinching
Unbound
ELAshley
010316.034307.6
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