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Author Topic: Poetry collection  (Read 209129 times)

Maglor

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1650 on: April 24, 2021, 08:53:25 AM »
Hm. Idk, if I may upload my Russian translations here. They would only be available for Russian-speaking members.
But the "Wellerman" appeared to be so catchy...
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Jitter

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1651 on: April 24, 2021, 10:08:22 AM »
Maglor,

I think you can well do that! If they are long, maybe put under spoiler like you have done with your mythology posts, but I for one see no reason why you couldn't. Just please ask for potential comments to be made in English, ok?

I have some poetry in Finnish which I really should dig up and post too.
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Maglor

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1652 on: April 24, 2021, 10:55:02 AM »
Spoiler: show
О корабле споём чуток:
Он назывался Котелок;
И волны били в дощатый бок,
Эх пой, ребята, пой.

Припев:
Чаю и сахара нам
Доставит скоро Веллерман.
Только б разделать кита,
И мы пойдём домой.
 
Он две недели был в пути,
Когда нашёлся могучий кит,
И взять горбатого на буксир
Поклялся китобой.
 
Припев
 
Коснулась шлюпка едва воды,
А хвост китовий уже лупил.
Гарпун поймал окоянный кит
И скрылся под водой.
 
Припев
 
Но трос не резал капитан,
Упрямо не отпускал кита -
Не ради денег, а только ради
Доблести морской.
 
Припев
 
Усильями команды всей
С китом боролись сорок дней.
Почти оставшись без снастей,
Сражался Котелок.
 
Припев
 
Я слышал, что зверюга тот
Всё также тащит Котелок,
И к славе Веллерман зовёт
Команду за собой.
 
Припев x2

The site where I found this song says it's a New Zeland folk-song. It's probably because of my lack of education, but I was quite surprised it's not Haka.
« Last Edit: April 24, 2021, 10:59:07 AM by Maglor »
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Róisín

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1653 on: April 24, 2021, 11:14:27 AM »
It is a New Zealand folksong, but more one of the songs of the white settlers. Hakas are more of a Maori thing. And the Wellerman (as in ‘Soon May the Wellerman Come), was the rep from the Weller company, who provided luxuries/necessities such as tea, sugar, booze, soap and relatively fresh food to the remote sealing camps, whaling stations and other very isolated communities back in the old days.
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JoB

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1654 on: April 25, 2021, 04:53:23 AM »
(Not to cut the discussion short, but Wikipedia has quite a lot of background info on the core topic, though certainly not all the derivative works of today.)
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Maglor

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1655 on: April 25, 2021, 05:18:38 AM »
Quote from: Róisín on April 24, 2021, 11:14:27 AM
It is a New Zealand folksong, but more one of the songs of the white settlers.

Thanks for the info) I kinda figured that out allready. Unfortenatly I couldn't make it understandable in the song, so now any Russian speaker infamilliar with that wailing thing would think, that the crue are being supported by some Jew (for us traiding or delivering ocupation and a second name that ends with -man is enough, lol)))
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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1656 on: April 25, 2021, 10:14:27 PM »
Pg 418

On The Scent, She Will Not Relent

Muzzle bloody, glass scarred,
Fiercely hot on their heels.
The sting from these shards,
Pales as to what she feels.

A sniff of the agitators,
There's but a momentary pause.
A wait, a stay of her hatred,
Of fury of teeth and claws.

Picking up all the scents,
Rejects the through corridor.
The slow pursuit commenced
Upon the divided four.
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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1657 on: April 26, 2021, 10:11:13 PM »
Pg 419

Hotel Hell, Imagine The Smell

The walls and floors entwine
With growths and globules vile.
Veiny tumours, throbbing vines,
Resident hallways defiled.

Murky, from the ceilings hung,
And underfoot they squelch.
From the doors, flesh is strung,
As dormant nesting cells.
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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1658 on: April 28, 2021, 10:49:50 PM »
Pg 420

Reynir Starts To Fret, Into The Kitchenette

Reynir to Onni bewailing
They've become separated.
It's his own fault for tailing
Him, and not them, he stated.

Past the doorway they streak,
But then they double back.
A reinforced space they peek,
A safe room in which to shack.

The mage issues the command:
"Get in there! The pantry!"
Some safety close at hand,
Can they hold sufficiently?

For a while in this room
Some measure of security.
In this chaos and bedlam,
What happened to Lalli?

----------------------------

Maybe Don't Follow (based on Maybe Tomorrow by Terry Bush)

There's a voice that keeps on haunting me
On our souls that's the swan's penalty
Every stop I make, it could be the end
Can't stay for long, just have to, have to try again

Maybe don't follow
You'll only drag me down
My time is borrowed
I must keep on the hunt

Down this road that never seems to end,
Where gruesome creatures hasten my descent
So if you want to join me in the wild
Just grab your cat, forfeit your life, that's silent style

Maybe don't follow
You'll only drag me down
I said don't follow
Save the girl on my own

So if you want to join me in the wild
Just grab your cat, prepare to fight against the vile

Maybe don't follow
You'll only drag me down
I said don't follow
You should have stayed at home

There's a world that's waiting dark and cold
A brand new tale no-one will ever know
We've journeyed far but you know it wont be long
We're almost there, we've paid our fare with a silent song

Maybe don't follow
I'll have to pay the toll
My time is borrowed
You know I've lost control

So if you want to join me in the wild
Just grab your cat, forfeit your life, stay silent style

Maybe don't follow
I'll only drag you down
I said don't follow
Our doom is looming on

Maybe don't follow
You should have stayed at home
« Last Edit: April 29, 2021, 10:51:38 AM by corncobman »
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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1659 on: April 30, 2021, 12:05:26 AM »
Pg 421

Door Shored Up, Boredom For The Pup?

There the scout is,
First into the cell.
Past them all he flashes,
Cat reflexes propelled.

All safely inside,
The door barricaded.
With time to bide,
In a fort they wait it.

"What now?" Reynir asks.
Already onset of boredom?
It's a simple enough task
But is staying still for him?
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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1660 on: May 02, 2021, 11:01:03 PM »
Pg 422

Kicked To The Kerb, Do Not Disturb!

The elder mage cares not
What the Icelander did.
Maybe the last chance he's got
To face the Kade while he lives.

He suggests they both trot
Somewhere else off away.
The bears may be raging hot
Out of control of the shade.

It'll find other things
To give itself protection.
Where they go don't concern him,
Just don't be a distraction!

Whether they meet again,
Is not his primary burden.
To take care of the Kade then,
Else for him, it's curtains.

Just to get the job done,
No surprises, no diversions.
One last prayer to confront.
While time ticks, for certain.
« Last Edit: May 03, 2021, 05:04:22 AM by corncobman »
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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1661 on: May 03, 2021, 10:05:39 PM »
Pg 423

Slick Splat, Plit Plat, Ick Goes The Cat

They've got nowhere to go,
So they will just stay put.
Back to the others now, below
Something splats underfoot.

Dank, damp, sticky, squelchy,
Ghastly, gross, grisly, gruesome.
Splotches, splashes unhealthy,
Revolting, stepping through them.
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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1662 on: May 05, 2021, 11:30:53 PM »
Pg 424

Visualised, Mind's Eyes

The trio and the feline
Deeper, further in line.
Pursued by the ursines
By chance or design.

The noose closing tight,
Through madness and spite.
Eyes inside, in sight.
Sudden flash of blight.
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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1663 on: May 06, 2021, 11:53:08 PM »
Pg 425

No Guardian Keeper, What's Your Move, Creeper?

The Kade's friend bear
The battle mage'll wager,
Will not guard it there
From any more danger.

"What's your move now?" so
Asked of the cornered wraith.
It immediately bellows,
Spitting, screeching hate.

Shadowed sounds to stagger
And elude to further torment.
Trying to distract its tracker,
But its nemesis stands unbent.
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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1664 on: May 09, 2021, 11:05:10 PM »
Page 426

Bearing Witness, Scaring Sh-witless

Straining to hold out
Against the jolt astral.
If he were to fold now
It would be most disastrous.

The younger bearing witness
And shuddering in dread.
The others scared, distance
No barrier to the great undead.

The trio shiver sh-witless,
Even the bear mother felt.
But still remaining committed
Until her vengeance be dealt.

The shakes are shrugged off,
Forwards, she perseveres on.
Beside her, like a slug pops,
A slithering thing here spawns.
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