"You are fair, Branwen. So fair..."

[EiriktheScald]

With the pretense that these are words of a lovesick Bard, if you don't care for romance or poetry, you need not look further. For those that do; these poems are about a romance with a certain tall, fair-haired, blue-eyed priestess.

 

 

On finding a Statue: A Fragment

 

Rounding the colored tents, I saw her;

Gray-eye’d she stood, quiet as a stone,

And like a murmur of the summer breeze

Came a gentle sound of stillness;

Red, purple and golden leaves ablaze,

And through the forest ground,

The ferns in branching beauty stream,

Like a fairy dream through this dark mind.

Fairgoers wander by, absorbing the sights

And sounds; this day is one of many,

And it is still her's to watch.

How unlike marble was that face:

With a desperate fear in her regard,

As if calamity had but begun.

 

From well-worn path swift foot-steps went,

No further than to where her feet had stray’d,

And set there since; a prisoner in stone.

[EiriktheScald]

Hymn to Branwen --Part I

 

Branwen dwelt upon an island,

By the bay near Seawolf's headland,

And a temple of Tempus it harbored,

And the Lord of Battles she worshipped,

For her heart was of the boldest,

And her spirit shone brightest,

Therefore in her mind she fancied,

In her thoughts the notion entered,

To become a priestess, she aspired,

And soon rumors the Battleguard heard,

And from the village she was driven,

To wander and to scavenge,

So the mainland she did voyage,

And Tempus' grace on her did linger.

[EiriktheScald]

On looking into Her Eyes

--For Kulyok; thank you for liberating her soul

 

"Branwen, your eyes!" while they unmindful, say

And, reaching towards her, wave my hand:

A stone-like expression, I chase away

Impish eyes now veiled 'neath lashes:--feigned

Innocence--she said, "What color are they?"

The sea; your eyes remind me of,

Not as the sea: cloaked in mists and mysteries;

For they unravel warmth, and love

 

She looked at me; her eyes full open,--

Shades of aqua and cerulean.

 

My sea is splendid to behold:

Their surface is all a shimmering light,

Just as the glistening path of gold

Selûne makes on her sea at night.

[EiriktheScald]

Luscious Apple

 

Luscious apple--

'Tis sweet,--watching her enjoy the

Luscious apple.

Her childish display so warm and

Appealing, and as such my love

Smiled; offering her last piece of

Luscious apple.

 

 

A random NPC initiated flirt; Branwen offers her apple. The apple is a very rich symbol. Temptation is the first one that springs to mind; but it is traditionally a symbol of love. In ancient myth the god of intoxication Dionysys was the creator of the apple, which he presented to Aphrodite, goddess of love. This poem raises the question: which does he find more appealing? Her smile? Or, the apple?

[EiriktheScald]

I look at you, and I think of Snow...

 

Flakes gently,

Unexpectedly

Descending.

First one, and then another, so

Graciously.

Like the simple acts of kindness

You bestow.

 

Of myriad

Stars,

Suspended.

Their light reflected, in your eyes

Of blue.

The sparkle of joy they hold within

Warms me.

 

Resting softly,

Slowly

Melting.

Waiting for a perfect moment of

Tenderness.

Your lips moist, pressed against

Mine.

 

--My own rendition of a PC initiated flirt.

[EiriktheScald]

Norheim Priestess -- A Cinquain

 

by my

side in battle:

with her, there's no peril

so great that would chasten me, none

at all.

 

 

--Love emboldens those who embrace it.

[EiriktheScald]

Rondelet: "I Love Thee True"

 

"I love thee true,"

She whispered, "'tis no secret, then?"

"I love thee true":

Words said, undressed and unadorned,

From your lips--how my heart did yearn!

I see in your eyes too. Branwen,

"I love thee true."

 

--Inspired by another NPC initiated flirt. This one caught me by surprise.

[EiriktheScald]

Oft have I watched her: A Fragment

 

Oft have I watched her through this glade walking--

She did not notice,--her tall, slim figure regarding;

Her hair was golden as tints of sunrise,

What marvelous sight that visits these fond eyes

As the band slips to one side; cascading tresses flow

And my lady’s radiant hair streams to and fro:

Beneath, her bosom having vainly striven

Proud and impetuous. In truth my thoughts stricken

By her beauty;