minstrel: Something interesting.

E. Howard-Wroth ercil at astrid.upland.ca.us
Tue Aug 26 02:31:34 PDT 1997


 I have particularly enjoyed the recent
discussion from Mistress Tangwystyl and 
company on the anonymity (sp) of works of
song/poetry/prose to work through a 
situation, political issue, or injustice.
A fine tradition dating far back, which saga
was it ?, The viking king who wrote
a scornful poem telling his own thought on a
neighboring king and then to save his life
wrote an incredible poem of praise under
guard in the neighboring King's castle.  Darn,
it is too late at night to go look it up.

The old norse proverb from the Havemal:

Cattle die, 
Kinsmen die,
You yourself must likewise die,
But one thing I know that never dies
Is Word-Fame for him, who achieves it well.

This proverb has proved inspirational over the
to me over the years.  Last year I had a particularly
difficult time with some individuals and had no
real recourse so I wrote this poem in their honor
and put it forth as a possible example as effective
anonymous verse.  It is not near the caliber of 
Tangwystyl, but it certainly aided me in dealing with an
unjust situation and obtaining fewer sleepless nights.

It is ever an evolving piece, but I thought I'd share
it with you.

--------------
`Know that you are Known'

Men without honor
Men with no shame
Lashing out carelessly
Causing great pain;

Men without learning
Of caring or lot,
Men who seek power
To win when they've fought;

Not seeking to question,
Looking to blame,
Causing great anguish
Blood wringing pain;

Petulant children
Hypocrites all
Smallminded cretins
Seek to bring others fall,

You, with no honor,
You, with no shame,
You have been seen.
I bring you fame,

Fame from my heart,
But not the hand of a friend
Not your ally behind you
This willow can bend.

I bring you the fame
You so richly have earned.
Discourteous cretins,
This bridge, you have burned.

Be sure I'll remember
Your kindness to me
Your thoughtful words 
for all to see.

Another might have broken
Another might fled
But this time I bent
Though my body be bled.

Though bloodied and bruised
I've not lost my case.
I follow tradition
Now must you lose face.

Like bold skalds of old
And bards of good name,
I merely recite,
Another's Word Fame.

By Astridhr Selr Leifsdottir


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