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Welcome my dear friends. Enjoy your visit and share your thoughts. Thank you, much love

Saturday, 2 August 2014

Frizzy Lizzy here, welcome friends. {;o)


Hi dear friends and followers. It is Saturday again, Frizzy Lizzy time, my the weeks go fast. Well come on in and make yourself at home.  

Men are so darn predictable, aren't they? When I need to get my Charley out of my way for a time I just ask him to work on something for me. It never fails that within a few minutes after he starts he finds out that he needs parts and off he goes to the hardware store. If I really want him gone I suppose that I could ask him to clean out the garage!

Anyway, while he's on a parts run, sit down and let's have a coffee. Glad you could make it!

I do put in some time on Facebook, I admit it, and so does Charley. Have you seen that joke that's making the rounds, the one in which the man tells his female partner that she has a butt as big as their barbecue grill? And she tells him that if he thinks that she's going to get that grill all hot for a weenie as small as his, he can dream on?

Well, Charley read that one and he thought that it would get a laugh out of me. What he didn't know is that I had already seen it and although I thought it was a cute joke I didn't laugh. No, not me. Instead of telling him how clever he was I told him that this grill needed some variety and wanted to have some Italian sausage. Next thing I knew he was heading for the neighbor's with a baseball bat in his hand. The neighbor is Luigi.

Looks like Charley got me on that one! He came back with a beer in his hand and he and Luigi laughing like two fools! That's OK. I'll fix him later/.

It's steak time on the barbecue tonight. I like using the term "I like to rub my meat with lemon and spice"...it never fails to make most men giggle like a bunch of morons. Jeeze! Do they ever think of anything else? Now there's the answer for Charley. He can rub his own meat!

Thanks for coming by. I'm glad you were here to see this. I couldn't make this stuff up. Yep, that's life with Charley. You can bet that tonight he'll hear the three little words that mean so much to a man: You're cut off!

Thank you very much for dropping by. Don't be shy and sahre your thoughts ideas and suggestions with us. 

ڰۣ With love from The Fairy Lady ڰۣ

See you later! 


Friday, 1 August 2014

Runes ~ ancient symbols Predating writing

Hi,  Dear Friends and Followers!  Today we take a look at ancient symbols called Runes.  We touch on their origin, their ancient uses, and what we understand of them to date. I hope that you find this topic to be interesting.  Thank you for visiting and have a wonderful day!

Runes ~ ancient symbols
Predating writing


No one knows exactly how old the runes are. Rune-like symbols appear as cave markings as early as the late Bronze Age (circa 1300 BC), and they are mentioned in the Bible, but their use in ritual and as an Oracle for consultation must certainly predate their use as a system of writing.

Eminent scientific runologist Dr R. I. Page of Cambridge University (An Introduction to English Runes 1973,1999 and Reading the Past - Runes 1987) notes that the runic forms were well established and gave the appearance of having been in use for some centuries before the time of the earliest written language inscriptions.
The fact that the runes were each given meaningful names confirms that they had some magical or religious significance to their users long before they emerged as an alphabet for records and messages.

The word rune itself comes from the old Norse word Runa meaning a secret or mystery, and it seems likely that the early runemasters and runemistresses were considered to have some magic or mystic power in their understanding of the runes.

The runes represent objects, gods, people, animals, concepts and occurrences. They were known by names from which their alphabetic and phonetic values were taken, but it must be remembered that the early Germanic and Norse tribes who developed them did so long before they had any need for writing messages.

The later Roman historian Cornelius Tacitus (58-120AD) records a Germanic tribal Runemal in some detail in Chapter 10 of his ethnographical work Germania from about 97AD when he was Consul to the region:

To divination they pay much attention. Their method is a simple one: they cut a branch from a fruit-bearing tree and divide it into small pieces which they mark with certain distinctive signs and scatter at random onto a white cloth. Then the priest of the community (if it is done publicly) or the father of the family (if it is done privately) after invoking the gods and with eyes raised to heaven, picks up three pieces one at a time and interprets them in accordance with the signs previously marked on them.

When the high chieftains and lawgivers of Anglo-Saxon England met in secret, their assemblies were known as The Runes: and a 4th Century translation of the Bible uses the word Runa for "mystery" or "secret proceedings".

It was not until about AD200, when the runemal (i.e. the art of runic interpretation) was wide-spread in Northern Europe that the runic alphabet emerged. This alphabet became known as the Futhark or Futhorc, after the names of the first 6 runes (Fehu, Uruz, Thurisaz, Ansuz, Raido, Kauno) and it is these 24 symbols that now comprise the rune set. Some modern diviners also use a blank to represent Odin, fate or destiny - but it is probably more useful as a spare in case of loss. A blank cannot rightfully be called a "rune" because there is no symbol on it. And in any case, the rune Ansuz is generally accepted to represent Odin by the majority of experienced rune users.

There are very few surviving runic inscriptions and most of them are on stone or metal - the most durable of materials. Only a handful of inscriptions carved on wood have ever been found, and none of these is from Britain.

There is sufficient evidence to show that the Ancient Pagan or Anglo-Saxon runes (known to runologists as the Anglo-Friesian runes from their geographical occurrence) are the same 24 basic runes with variations in their form due to usage over the centuries.

For example, the Hagalaz of the Norse resembled an angled H but the Anglo-Saxons added a second cross-bar.

The ancient Norse prose tales of the Edda have Odin hung on the World Tree when he spies the runes and seizes them up to gain wisdom and well-being. The Edda also mentions Bragi, master of the skalds (minstrels) and a great storyteller who reputedly had runes tattooed on his tongue - a reference to his magical gift as a raconteur.

The slightly later poem Erik the Red describes a Runemistress in full regalia.

Coming to modern references, the traditional lore of Finland as recorded in the Kalevala by Lönnrot in 1835 describes a confrontation of wizards where runic songs were used to cause fire and devastation.

Some modern experts allege that stones were commonly used for the Runemal, but I have found no evidence of this despite extensive research. The indications, whether from runology, known Pagan religious beliefs, or Saxon witchcraft ritual, all point to the use of wood, particularly from fruit-bearing trees.

A lot have been said on the origin of the runes. And despite this, not much is certain about the actual truth of their origin. A main reason for this problem, might be that we are simply looking for the answers in the wrong places, or otherwise in periods of time too close to our present day in history.

Basically, the runes never left the scene. Despite the attempts by the Christian church to ban their use at several points of time in history, and despite and the introduction of an alternative alien writing system that came to dominate Europe. Instead they were in use from their very distant past, all into our present day. Some attempts were made for example in Sweden during the early 17′th century – mainly due to the efforts of Johannes Bureu

.

Others advocated their use as sinnbilder (icons/symbols) of various meaning. In particular the later use, as symbols, had quite some success in the late 1800′s and early 1900′s in Germany and Scandinavia, during the Völkisch

and Göticism

movements. And indeed, even in present day Sweden (and elsewhere, of course) the runes live on as rather mundane symbols on, for example, road signs, and for branding of eggs, to mention a few. The bindrune of Bluetooth (as in Harald Bluetooth ) is another fine example of this.

Actually, a rather modern set of runes – the Dalecarlian Runes

– were very much alive and in everyday use as a writing system in Dalarna/Sweden, as late as in the 20′th century.Murarmärken/Stenhuggarmärken (mason’s marks ) and Bomärken (house marks ) often have undeniable runic origins, and have pretty much been in continuous use in northern Europe from times immemorial until present day history.
PART 2

Runes and academics
M.R. James, “Casting the Runes,” 1911

There’s a peculiar tendency among scholars, historians and archaeologists alike when it comes to all things northern European. As soon as they come across something remarkable, such as high grade steel swords, advanced surgical tools, precision lenses (suggested uses for these have been either for medical purposes, fire starting, binoculars or simply for magnification), navigation equipment (suggesting we were aware that the world was round, and not flat), welding and soldering techniques impossible to mimic with modern jewelers tools etc., they scratch their heads and question themselves 

“Where did this come from? Who taught them to do this?”. Just as if it was virtually impossible for anyone of northern European descent, to actually possess a constructive and innovative mind. This is indeed a weird way of looking at things, if you consider how many modern day inventions that actually originate from Scandinavia and northern Europe in general – where some countries have a total population comparable to larger cities in other parts of the world. Our DNA haven’t changed so much, that we turned from primitive imbeciles into scientific masterminds in merely some 50 generations. It doesn’t make any sense.

Frankly, had the same logic been applied to just about any other ethnic group, a public apology and official statement denouncing their unintentional but still degrading “colonialist attitude”, had been issued faster than anyone could scream “racial bias”.

In all honesty, we all know this is nothing but deliberate lies. At best it’s about not knowing better. But there’s no reason to allow ourselves to get upset by such bigotry. We are above that. But surely, it’s still worth having in mind whenever you read, hear or watch anything concerning pre-Christian northern European culture. In days like these, you really don’t have to be a part of their agenda. Just don’t jump their bandwagon. We can run our own show.

So where do these runes come from? If the answer that “Odin took them up screaming” – and that Rig then passed them on to us humans, as he taught them to Jarl – ain’t good enough for you, then the answer pretty much is we don’t know for sure. As simple as that.

Thank you dearest friends and followers for reading this interesting topic on ancient runes, Your comments, thoughts ideas and suggestions are always welcome her, thank you

ڰۣ With love from The Fairy Lady ڰۣ



Thursday, 31 July 2014

HOW THE TURKEY BUZZARD GOT HIS SUIT

Hi dear friends and followers today we again visit the stories the Iroquois tell their children

Have you ever asked your mother or father or mother wonderful questions, like what makes the wind to blow, or why the stars shine? Apparently there was an Iroquois child who had a query about the turkey buzzard. Here is one reply to it.
HOW THE TURKEY BUZZARD GOT HIS SUIT

It was a long, long time ago, when the Earth was very young. Trees and flowers were growing everywhere, but there were no birds. One morning the Great Spirit drew back the blanket from the door of his wigwam in the sky. He looked upon the Earth and smiled, for he saw that his work was good.


“Today,” thought he, “I will make big butterflies, to fly in and out among the beautiful trees and flowers of the Earth and they shall sing as they fly.

Then the Great Spirit spoke and the tree tops were full of birds, - but they had no feathers.

All day he watched them fly and listened to their songs. But their naked bodies and long legs did not please him. Before the sun had set he had made suits of every size and color to cover them.

That night, as the birds hid their heads under their wings, the Great Spirit spoke to them. He told them about the feathered suits he had made for them, and where these suits could be found.

A council was called the next day by the birds. They chose Gah gah go wah, the Turkey Buzzard, to go get the suits. He could fly over a long trail and not be tired.

The birds told him that if he would go, he might have first choice of the suits of feathers, but he must try on no suit of feathers more than once.

Turkey Buzzard promised and set out toward the setting sun. Twice the sun set and three times it rose, before he found the feathered suits. There were many of them, and they were very beautiful. He could not make up his mind which one he would like the best to wear.

Then he remembered he could try on each suit of feathers only once. So he began to put them on.

The feathers of the first suit were too long. They trailed the ground as he walked. Neither could he fly well in them. Turkey Buzzard laid that suit aside.

The next suit shone like gold. The feathers were a beautiful yellow. Turkey Buzzard put it on and strutted up and down the forest.

“Oh, how handsome I am!” he said. “But I must not keep this, for if I did, I should shine so like the face of the Great Spirit, that all of the other birds would see me.”

And he slipped off the suit of yellow feathers as quickly as he could.

A third suit was of pure white feathers. Turkey Buzzard thought it looked very beautiful and it was a perfect fit.
“But it will get dirty too soon,” he said. “I will not choose this.”

And this, too, was laid aside.

There were not enough feathers in the fourth suit. Turkey Buzzard shivered with cold. It was not warm enough. He would not have it.

There were too many feathers and too many pieces in the fifth suit. It took too much time to put it on. Turkey Buzzard did not want that.

So he went from one suit to another, trying on and taking off. Always he had some new fault to find. Something was wrong with each one. Nothing quite pleased him. No suit was just right.

At last there was but one suit left. It was not pretty. It was a plain, dull color, - and very short of feathers at the neck and head. Turkey Buzzard put it on. He did not like it. It did not fit him well: It was cut too low in the neck. Turkey Buzzard thought it was the homeliest suit of them all. But it was the last suit, so he kept it on.
Then Gah gah go wah, the Turkey Buzzard, gathered up the suits and flew back to the bird lodge. He still wore the plain, dull-colored suit.

The birds again called a council. Each was told to select a suit from those Gah gah go wah had brought, and put it on. This they did.
Then the birds in their beautiful feathered suits began to walk and fly about the Turkey Buzzard and to make fun of his plain, dull dress.

But Gah gah go wah held his head high. He walked proudly among the birds. He looked with scorn on their beautiful suits. After a time he spoke.

He said, “Gah gah go wah, the Turkey Buzzard, does not want your suits. He had the pick of them all. He likes his own suit best.”


Thank you dearest friends and followers for  visiting my blog, You are welcome to share your thoughts with us. Your thoughts ideas and suggestions are always welcome here, thank you
ڰۣ❤ With love from The Fairy Ladyڰۣ
 

Wednesday, 30 July 2014

Why The Eagle Defends Americans



Hi dear friends and followers today we again visit the stories the Iroquois tell their children.

This is another of the Wonder Stories of the Iroquois that has elements of literary romanticism. The entire story is based on the supernatural using the interface between various animals of the forest and a boy to weave the tale. Sit back and savor it! Thank you for sharing this story with us.


Why The Eagle Defends Americans

Many, many moons before the White man came, a little Indian boy was left in the woods. It was in the days when animals and men understood each other better than they do now.

An old mother bear found the little Indian boy. She felt sorry for him. She told him not to cry, for she would take him home with her. She had a nice wigwam in the hollow of a big tree.

Old Mother Bear had two cubs of her own but she had a place between her great paws for a third. She took the little papoose, and she hugged him him warm and close. She fed him as she did her own little cubs.
The boy grew strong. He was very happy with his adopted mother and brothers. They had a warm lodge in the hollow of the great tree. As they grew older, Mother Bear found for them all the honey and nuts that they could eat.

From sunrise to sunset, the little Indian boy played with his cub brothers. He did not know that he was different from them. He thought that he was a little bear, too. All day long, the boy and the little bears played and had a good time. They rolled, and tumbled, and wrestled in the forest leaves. They chased one another up and down the bear tree.

Sometimes they had a matched game of hug, for every bear must learn to hug. The one who could hug the longest and the tightest won the game.

Old Mother Bear watched her three dear children at play. She would have been content and happy, but for one thing. She was afraid some harm would come to the boy. Never could she quite forget the bear hunters. Several times they had scented her tree, but the wind had thrown them off the trail.

Once, from her bear-tree window, she had thrown out rabbit hairs as she saw them coming. The wind had blown the rabbit hairs toward the hunters. As they fell near the hunters, they had suddenly changed into rabbits and the hunters had given chase.

At another time, Mother Bear tossed some partridge feathers to the wind as the hunters drew near her tree. A flock of partridges went whirring into the woods with a great noise and the hunters went after them.

But on this day, Mother Bear's heart was heavy. She knew now that the big bear hunters were coming. No rabbits or partridges could lead these hunters from the bear trail, for they had dogs with four eyes. (Foxhounds have a yellow spot over each eye which makes them double-eyed.) These dogs were never known to miss a bear tree. Sooner or later they would scent it.

Mother Bear thought she might be able to save herself and her cubs. But what would become of the boy? She loved him too well to let the bear hunters kill him.

Just then the porcupine, the Chief of the animals, passed by the bear tree. Mother Bear saw him. She put her head out of the bear-tree window and called to him. He came and sat under the bear-tree window, and listened to Mother Bear''s story of her fears for the boy.

When she had finished, Chief Porcupine said he would call a council of the animals and see if they could not save the boy.

Now the Chief had a big voice. As soon as he raised his voice, even the animals away on the longest trails heard. They ran at once and gathered under the council tree. There was a loud roar, and a great flapping of wings, for the birds came, too.
Chief Porcupine told them all about the fears of Mother Bear, and of the danger to the boy.

“Now,” said the Chief, “which one of you will take the boy and save him from the bear hunters?”

It happened that some animals were present that were jealous of man. These animals held more than one secret council, to plan how to do away with him. They said he was becoming too powerful. He knew all they knew – and more.

The beaver did not like man, because men could build better houses than he.
The fox said that man had stolen his cunning, and could now outwit him.


The wolf and panther objected to man, because he could conceal himself and spring with greater surety than they.

The raccoon said that man was more daring, and could climb higher than he.

The deer complained that man could outrun him.

So when Chief Porcupine asked who would take the boy and care for him, each of these animals in turn said that he would gladly do so.

Mother Bear sat by and listened as each offered to care for the boy. She did not say anything, but she was thinking hard – for a bear. At last she spoke.

To the beaver she said, “You cannot take him; you will drown him on the way to your lodge.”

To the fox she said, “You cannot take him; you would teach him to cheat and steal, while pretending to be a friend; neither can the wolf or the panther have him, for they are counting on having something good to eat.”

“You, deer, lost your upper teeth for eating human flesh. And, too, you have no home, you are a tramp.

“And you, raccoon, I cannot trust, for you would coax him to climb so high that he would fall and die.”

“No, none of you can have the boy.”

Now a great bird that lives in the sky had flown to the council tree, while the animals were speaking. But they had not seen him.

When Mother Bear had spoken, this wise old eagle flew down and said, “Give the boy to me, Mother Bear. No bird is so swift and strong as the eagle. I will protect him. On my great wings I will bear him far away from the bear hunters.

“I will take him to the wigwam of an Indian friend, where a little Indian boy is wanted.”
Mother Bear looked into the eagle's keen eyes. She saw that he could see far.

Then she said, “Take him, eagle, I trust him to you. I know you will protect the boy.”

The eagle spread wide his great wings. Mother Bear placed the boy on his back, and away they soared, far from the council woods.

The eagle left the boy, as he had promised, at the door of a wigwam where a little Indian boy was wanted.

This was the first young American to be saved by an American eagle.

The boy grew to be a noble chief and a great hunter. No hunter could hit a bear trail so soon as he, for he knew just where and how to find the bear trees. But never was he known to cut down a bear tree, or to kill a bear.

However, many were the wolf, panther, and deer skins that hung in his lodge. The hunter's wife sat and made warm coats from the fox and beaver skins which the hunter father brought in from the chase. But never was the hunter, his wife, or his children seen to wear a bear-skin coat.

Thank you  dear friends for your interest, and please feel free to share your thoughts with us. Your thoughts ideas and suggestions are always welcome here, thank you
ڪڰۣWith love from The Fairy Ladyڪڰۣ



Tuesday, 29 July 2014

One Afternoon In Dowd


Hi dear friends and followers. Today I would like to invite you to take another journey in the land of imagination, where dragons and fair maidens still live. Just one of many worlds in the realm infinite potentialities in my poetry style stories. Thank you

One Afternoon In Dowd


On yonder mountain was the lair of the dragon.

Hidden in a cave on Mount Acron was he. 

Asleep he was for 400 years. 

The dragon's eyes opened with an emerald glow. 

Today is the day that he was to reunite 

with his fellows in the valley below. 

The dragon stood on legs uncertain. 

his great wings spread, unfurled at last. 

He ambled, on his way forward, slowly; 

toward the entrance of the cave he toddled. 

Then he let out a cry, a roar so loud

that it shook the leaves from the trees around,

and rang from the rocks in the valley below! 


First time in centuries outstretched wings flapped! 

Flapped with confidence as up he went, 

then to glide him down to the land below. 

A fair maiden had ventured by the creek, 

for to fill her bucket with mountain-pure water. 

The sun shimmered from her golden tresses 

cascading from head and over her shoulders. 

The maiden stopped and froze at the sound of the wings.

To her it was like great sails in the wind,

Yet here on the mount no boats were found. 

With her right arm she lifted the bucket, now full,

and with her left hand, her dress from under foot.

As she turned to leave from the water's edge 

the great dragon circled and came alight. 

At the edge of the forest the dragon did land, 

but a few paces away from the golden-haired one. 

So struck was he by this fair maid's beauty 

That on the spot his shape he did change

From a royal dragon to a prince at-arms

With the hope of her attention to gain!

The mind of the maiden was sorely confused;

the dragon she saw, but was no longer there,

and she found herself smitten by a handsome prince!

A prince at-arms, in most brilliant of armor! 

Scarce could she contain the things inside her,

'til she swooned and fainted and nearly fell.

What are princes for, if not to cushion a fall?


In his arms he cradled the absolute fairest

of the centuries of maidens he had ever beheld.

Upon his knee the prince did kneel, 

and held her pale and dainty hand. 

He kissed it gently, then stood and thought: 

“Such beauty, and me a mere dragon, I am.

I wonder if she will take my hand

So we can be united as one, 

in the eyes the goddess dragon of Yarragon?” 

They embraced and danced in courtly circles,

To the music their two hearts played for their feet.

'tween the forest green and the water blue, 

as the golden sunlight made them warm; 

it felt to them like time stood still,


floating on air with the birds and butterflies!

Never had the fair maiden of Dowd, 

seen before such a gorgeous prince. 

“A prince in shining armor is he. 

A warrior hero no doubt,” she thought. 

And so during that time when time stood still 

a bond was forged, so strong was it built, 

like a masonry wall, built stone upon stone. 

“He is all that I believe him to be.” 

And that, in sum, thought the maiden of Dowd.

“And naught shall take me from his side.”

The prince was only too aware 

of whom the maiden thought she loved.

“I believe that her mind will quickly change

should she learn of the dragon that holds the prince.” 

He held her tightly and whispered in her ear, 

“My lady I must tell you all

It was a prince that broke your fall.

What you see before you of me is one part, 

for another resides in me, in my heart. 

With that he released her and before her changed.
 

And upon him appeared scales of silver, and claws, 

huge, emerald eyes and a crested crown. 

The maiden screamed and fell to the ground!

“What enchantment do you cast upon me?”

The dragon returned to the prince once again. 

Resuming his human appearance he knelt

and again took the fair lady of Dowd in his arms.

She awakened, and with a mind not bemused, 

said aloud, “I will go anywhere with you. 

For the heart is true and the truth is,” 

the fair lady from Dowd declared, 

“in your heart is where the beauty lies.” 

“But remember, my dear prince, 

if anyone should learn of your other side, 

there will be nowhere for us to go.

We will never know a peaceful life.”

The prince picked up the bucket, full 

and carried the load for the fair one of Dowd. 

They side by side down the path as one,


the fair lady and he walked tall and proud.

The birds resumed their cheerful song, 

and the butterflies flitted to and fro

in a field of wild roses.

Composed by Cindy

Thank you for reading my poem. Thoughts ideas and suggestions are always welcomed and appreciated here, thank you

ڪےWith love from The Fairy Lady
ڪ



Monday, 28 July 2014

How The White Man Came


Hi dear friends and followers today we again visit the stories the Iroquois tell their children.

Our last offering from Stories the Iroquois Tell Their Children was a true fairy tale, complete with a fairy and an object lesson.

This offering, How The White Man Came, is from the collection that the book calls “Wonder Stories.” These stories would correspond to literary romanticism in that they have a natural setting, supernatural elements, and a magic quality about them. I hope that you like them.


How The White Man Came

Long, long ago, before Columbus came, the Red Children were here. They were the first and only real Americans.

From the Big Sea Water on the east to the Big Sea Water on the west ranged these Children of the Sun, as they called themselves.

Happy and free as the sunlight and air about them, they ran through wide forests all their own, or plied their bark canoes up and down the streams.

The Indian had a dream. This was long before Columbus dreamed his dream of the Western World.

In his dream the Indian saw a great White Bird coming out of the east. Its wings were stretched wide to the north and south. With great strength and speed it swept toward the setting sun.

In fear and wonder the Indian watched this giant White Bird appear and disappear. He knew its meaning, and the Indian's heart was sad.

Then the White man came. From the Big Sea Water on the east he came, in his great white-winged canoe. With one hand pointing to the Great Spirit and the other extended to the Red man he came. He asked for a small seat. A seat the size of a buffalo skin would be quite large enough for him, he said.

In the name of the Great Spirit, the Red Children welcomed the White man, and called him “brother.” They gave him the seat he asked. They gave him a large buffalo skin also, and showed him where he could spread it by their council fire.

The White man took the buffalo skin. He thanked his Red brother in the name of the Great Spirit. Then he began to cut the skin into many many small strips.When the whole buffalo skin had been cut into narrow strips he tied the strips together. They made a long cord that would reach over a long trail.

In amazement the Indians watched the White man while he measured off a seat as long and broad as this cord would reach around. This “small seat” the size of a buffalo skin, became a tract of land.

Soon the White man asked for another seat. This time his seat took in the Indians' lodges and camp fire. He asked the Indians if they would move on for a few arrow flights. This they did.

Then the White man wanted another seat. Each time it took a larger skin for him to sit upon. This time the skin stretched so far that it covered a part of the Indians' hunting and fishing grounds.
Again the Indians moved on. Again the White man followed. Each time his seat grew larger, until the Indian had a place but the size of a buffalo skin on which to sit.

Thus it was that the White man came. Like a great White Bird that swept in from the Big Sea Water on the east to the Big Sea Water on the west, the White man came; and he drove the Indians from the rising to the setting sun.


Thank you for visiting my blog and feel free to share your thoughts with us. Thoughts ideas and suggestions are always welcome here, thank you
ڪڰۣWith love from The Fairy Ladyڪڰۣ

Sunday, 27 July 2014

Love of Elf and Fairy


Hi dear friends and followers. Today is Sunday, poem day. I would like to invite you to take another journey in the land of imagination, one of many worlds of the not yet seen. Thank you

Love of Elf and Fairy
Once long ago in a different land,
a land so different you can't see it today,
there lived a prosperous, handsome young Elf.
Terribly lonely and blue was he,
as he dreamed of the love so far away,
a love that burned deep, and as wide as the sky,
that could only be sated by she of his dreams, 
Far away was where he had ventured,
Briefly he went, as the right-hand aide
to a great and well known merchant Elf
whom all knew by the name of Adelaid.
Into the Forest of the Faie they wandered,
to bargain and trade with the Fairy folk.
They moved about swiftly, like ghosts.
On the wings of great dragonflies, they came.
And then one morning day he saw her, 
visage to rival the rays of the sun!
The Elf was smitten, his heart enthralled
by the total beauty of the Fairy princess!
So there he sat, longing for her smile.
Until nothing would keep him from her side,
Upon the great dragon's back he rode
to the Land of the Faie to be with her again.
They flew over hill and vale and seas.
And the day gave way to evening and dusk,
when at last he saw the Faie forest ahead.
The princess would go to the magical forest
where the songs of birds and insects alike,
filled the air with their dulcet melodies.
There she sought solace from her longing
For the Elf she had seen so long ago.
He found the princess seated on a stump
down-hearted, melancholy, and sad of mien, 
Pining for her the one she had met but once,
longing for her prince charming, the Elf.
But only one thing forbids their union:
The unwritten law. It cannot be done!
The Faie and Elf can't join as one!
Disaster surely to their kingdoms will come!
The Elf made his way through the magic woods,
on his way to where his princess stood.
His eyes locked with hers and he took her hand.
As they embraced there came out from the bush
Warriors with spears and swords
to dispatch them both to their final reward.
The Princess announced on the top of her voice,
“I will never to leave this gallant one's side!
We will go together, forward in life,
or we will go together to the spirit light!”
She turned and put her arms around the Elf,
spread her wings wide, turned her back to the troops
and waited for their jabs and thrusts.
There was silence, not bird nor insect sang.
Then the silence was rent by a deaf'ning roar.
The earth shook and the trees moved
And about them a circle the trees did form!
The warriors screamed, without weapons ran!
Into the forest, as fleet as a deer
Leaving only the Faie and the Elf alone. 
So that night the Elf and his Fairy princess 

upon the back of his dragon steed did they fly, 

Off to share their lives and love,

off into the starlit sky.

Composed by Cynthia ©

Thank you for reading my poem and feel free to share your thoughts with us. Thoughts ideas and suggestions are always accepted and appreciated here, thank you


ڪےڰۣWith love from The Fairy Ladyڪےڰۣ



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