OUTTAKES – 01 ~ TELL US A STORY PROFESSOR HESTER

OUTTAKES – 01

I’ve been in the attic, I’ve been in the cellar, I raided my notebooks – I’M HAVING A YARD SALE – It’s a Car Boot – THEY’RE UNFINISHED LINES, unfinished poems, POEMS THAT MISSED OUT ON PREVIOUS RETROSPECTIVES, good ideas, BAD IDEES, inspiration, OR JUST GOOD TITLES, abortive attempts – IM CLEARING THE BACKLOG – opening up the storehouse – IT’S A COLONIC IRRIGATION – an enema – I’M MILKING THE PAPS – so mother writer’s milk might flow through fresh again!

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TELL US A STORY PROFESSOR HESTER

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In consequence of the most moral changes in his outlook, Hester decided in his own mind to reflect only upon that which was true. At least as by his definition of truth, which was that which was true to himself. He had no desire to differ or disagree with anyone and determined, very much, that in future he would prefer his own wise counsel to any external opinion. Hester had for a number of years become increasingly alone and solitary in his habits although he still harboured the hope and feelings that there may be a person or persons with whom he might enjoy a closer social intercourse and fraternity. He considered that he himself had lived most of his life as something of a personality-chameleon and wondered in fact whether his predisposition and desire to blend in or fit in, to the point of changing his verbal stance, if not his actual personal opinion, was tantamount to the condition which in fact psychoanalysts referred to by the term schizophrenia.

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Hester began to repeatedly take time to sit quietly at a plain wooden table by a window that allowed the sunlight to shine through. He sat with a wood-cased pencil and a small pile of loose paper and he wrote down the things he believed were important to him. The lists became increasingly and almost agonisingly long and he began to wonder if he were not deceived in his own considered assessment of himself, what he believed and who he actually was, especially in terms of his own character and opinion. His list of likes was greater than he could ever have imagined and led him to believe himself, therefore, as something of a hypocrite.

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As time proceeded, Hester began to find renewed confidence in his own personal opinions and while attending a political rally held in the local Community Centre he rose to voice a thought-provoking question in response to an open invitation given by the orator. Hester surprised himself at how assured and articulate he had become and was overwhelmed not only by the general reaction and applause his question aroused but by the post-meeting conversation and invitations to events associated to the party and its members that he received. Hester soon found he had a new circle of friends and acquaintances and he was invited to speak himself at the next arranged rally, which he accepted and enjoyed. Within only three years, Hester was appointed the leading spokesperson for the group.

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edenbraytoday

ref. 07.2020

… thanks for listening …

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I SAW A SHOT-DOWN ANGEL

I Saw A Shot-Down Angel

by Charles Causely

A GUEST POEM

I saw a shot-down angel in the park

His marble blood sluicing the dyke of death

A sailing tree firing its brown sea-mark

Where he now wintered for his wounded breath

… 

I heard the bird-noise of his splintered wings

Sawing the steep sierra of the sky

On his fixed brow the jewel of the Kings

Reeked the red morning with a starving eye

I stretched my hand to hold him from the heat

I fetched a cloth to bind him where he bled

I brought a bowl to wash his golden feet

I shone my shield to save him from the dead

My angel spat my solace in my face

And fired my fingers with his burning shawl

Crawling in blood and silver to a place

Where he could turn his torture to the wall

Alone I wandered in the sneaking snow

The signature of murder on my day

And from the gallows-tree, a careful crow

Hitched its appalling wings and flew away

 

 

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THE DOG

dog 2

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The dog

A lecture

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I’m a dog

I’m a savage dog

A dog that you don’t need

A dog you should not feed

I’m a sad dog

I’m a bad dog

A dog without a tail

I’m a grey dog

I’m a white dog

I’m a black dog

A dog wog

A prairie dog

A dog out on the trail

A dog that still can wail

I’m a rabid dog

A dog full of disease

A dog without a leash                 

Not a love dog

To sit between your knees

Give you all my fleas

If I lay upon my back

You can see my male sack

And tell that I don’t lack

A dog bound to this verse

Stuck within this curse

Riding in a hearse

Impolite and terse

Hang around

– it gets worse!

I’m a tabloid dog

You can read between the lines

I’m a dog that never pines

I never pay my fines

I’m a fierce dog

A wolf-dog

A dog out on the street

A dog with mangy feet

I’m a lone dog

A lost dog

A dog whose on the run

A dog who has no fun

A dog that needs – a gun!

I’m a wild dog

A riled dog

I’d crap upon your floors

Show you then my paws

Right next to my claws!

Fight then for the cause

I’m a mad dog

A dog with a bad grin

A dog thats full of sin

I’m a dog that eats it all

The guts, the legs, the balls

I’m a bold dog

I’m an old dog

I’m a cold dog

A dog thats lost its way

A dog in a manger

A dog who is a stranger

A real lone ranger

Not a farm dog

A sheep dog

Who does what its told

Leads the sheep to the fold

A dog with a bushy tail

I’m a dog you wouldn’t want

A dog out of control

I should live down a hole

I’m a dog

edenbraytoday

ref. 05072020

 

English Dictionary definition : Wail ~ a prolonged high-pitched cry of pain, grief, or anger.

a dog 1

its a dogs life

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BALADIN’S DREAM & OTHER TALES – XI

fIve

To celebrate the launch of this FIRST EDITION of a self-published pamphlet containing all 11 poems in the Complete Collection of BALADIN’S DREAM and OTHER TALES by edenbray, along with full Authors Notes, I am offering a signed, printed hard-copy for just £5 inc. post/packing for orders within the United Kingdom and £6.50 inc. shipping for orders outside the UK ~ This is a limited time offer!

#NOTE ~ please email ME ;~ stepheneede689@btinternet.com or post a comment in the comments box at the foot of this page and request details of how to make payment ~ including your name and the address where you would like the printed copy to be sent ~ PLEASE indicate if it is to be a gift.                      Many thanks ~ edenbraytoday

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TO Celebrate the occasion I am re-posting all eleven parts  –  Today we reach the conclusion BALADIN’S DREAM  ~ The Final Story – Part XI – THE GHOST of BALADIN FLIES …

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BALADIN’S DREAM

and OTHER TALES

by edenbray

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BALADIN’S DREAM ~ XI

Authors Note ~

Baladin now take your rest ~ the storyteller has finally earned his beaker of Barleycorn nitecap and tonight he goes to meet the reaper and they will exchange their wizard’s craft.

The collateral of the wise and none ere’ walked much wiser than the legend that is DemBala the Wolfmaster who sleeps now with a pack of wolves laid around his feet and while dreamers pipes embers’ glisten faintly in the breeze of the palest moonlight for this last time, a herd of caribou also graze peacefully not far from where Baladin has been laid. A life less extraordinary might have had more that is morose to record and yet my soundest friend it has been my pleasure to know thee and write these faint tints & hints, these tasters & spoilers true of Baladin’s even fuller Tales he takes with him to the skies. ~ This much welcome Memoir though,  I now will always treasure.

Goodnight my old friend!                                         edenbraytoday

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THE GHOST OF BALADIN FLIES

an obituary

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… They say the ghost of Bal-a-din flies over the moors of Mull since the days they laid his bones to rest!

That he has appeared in the jagged rush of a snow leopard in the wasteland of Siberia’s southern hills …

They have heard his cry in the moan of an ice whale who remembered his silhouette against the flickering northern lights …

… and a white bear, they say, was heard to sing a tune to Baladin’s Song by two starving hunters one evening in the west of Alaska …  

Yet the strangest tale concerns a blue marlin that a fisherman heard laugh like the great man when breaking his line and then escaping off the Florida keys …

… and at least once he brought terror to sailors who say they saw Baladin’s smile in the face of a wandering albatross … but at least I do know the truth of DemBala, the wolf master ….

He died a happy old man in his sleep after supper with three younger women by his bed side and a warm log fire crackling in the hearth for this is indeed Ba-La-Din.

He had made his peace with the Almighty a long time previous and now travels the universe at the Master’s bidding often stopping to gaze at the cerulean and the viridian of the earth so far below.

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written 06.04.2012

  awaiting the meek’s inheritance …

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I determine to write what I feel and what really matters! I could write of flower-strewn valleys. Of powder-puff clouds scudding across cerulean skies above green fields where fattened cows wander contentedly beneath snow-capped mountains, lakes and gorges. Of places only the rich and the famous may vacate to squander their loose change but then there is Baladin, Dembala – the Wolf-Master. 

        EDENBRAYtoday ~ June 2020

DA EDENBRAY

Da EDENBRAY

thanks for listening …

20EDENBRAY 8

edenbray8

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BALADIN’S DREAM & OTHER TALES – X

seVen

To celebrate the launch of this FIRST EDITION of a self-published pamphlet containing all 11 poems in the Complete Collection of BALADIN’S DREAM and OTHER TALES by edenbray, along with full Authors Notes, I am offering a signed, printed hard-copy for just £5 inc. post/packing for orders within the United Kingdom and £6.50 inc. shipping for orders outside the UK ~ This is a limited time offer!

#NOTE ~ please email ME : ~ stepheneede689@btinternet.com or post a comment in the comments box at the foot of this page and request details of how to make payment ~ including your name and the address where you would like the printed copy to be sent ~ PLEASE indicate if it is to be a gift.                        Many thanks ~ edenbraytoday

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TO Celebrate the occasion I am re-posting all eleven parts  –  Today it is BALADIN’S DREAM  ~ Part X – NATREANA 

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BALADIN’S DREAM

and OTHER TALES

by edenbray

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BALADIN’S DREAM ~ X

Authors Note ~

Another Tale of Baladin, whom we have met before and this an unlisted Tale. There were originally 9 Numbered Tales, plus an obituary to Baladin the Wolfmaster ~ to be found in this publication and each is a mythology and a fantasy. For Baladin is a seer, a prophet and a storyteller regál with a memory near old as the wind or the tide and as such he travelled with the wisest counsel.

So to this extra, lost Tale regarding the fair Natreana and her lover Eberus ~ a Tale so similar in points of interest to those found in a much earlier and longer piece entitled ~ ‘Concerning Andriose and Methuen’ ~ that in the stakes of this mythology it has led many to consider whether those truths current in both these Tales are sufficient to warrant they speak of a lost Daughter somewhere in Baladin’s forgotten past that he longed to speak of despite some great sadness that preventeth him so to do. Now the Long ships have since departed and taken our Regal Storyteller far away aboard the Hringhorni on the journey from which there is no return.

Forsooth then dear reader may likely thank ye for the works of Tolkien, Lewis, Aesop, the Bard himself, the Greeks, the Norsks, the Romans & great Moses’ Book itself, from whence all such  imaginations run and none find better!                        ~ edenbraytoday

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BALADIN’S DREAM

X

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NATREANA

a lost tale of Baladin

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…   …   …

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Eberus, a tall, lithe warrior dressed in fur and dusted by the plains of Maraballa, knelt and looked far beyond the deep purple hills of Sysophola.

His heart was heavier than the cargo of a sea barge drifting on the Aratteus after a months hunting and trawling for pescuth… 

He viewed the herd of Atruscean antelope that carried such rich, dark meat, little fat & fetched good bounty at the Gerder market each first day.

Natreana had not spoken to him for six days now and this after they had shared that special moment while he visited – carrying forest truffles.

He nursed the knife her jagged eye lodged in his open heart, the wound where only torn emotion and passion lie side by side.

When they were joined by thought and imagination he knew her heart raced with his and by now he were chasing the insolent deer.

Who grazed on autumn coloured grasses, trimmed, and so languid as Eberus who contemplated turning his  dagger inward to end his mire.

Why is love the hardest, the slowest and the most painful night while it also causeth the step to quicken, the countenance to lighten and a smile?

For these thoughts the deer were now left to tripping, gambling, running and to breathing free as the night prussian and dark fell upon them.

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written 08.12.2015

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20EDENBRAY 8

thanks for listening …

 

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BALADIN’S DREAM & OTHER TALES – IX

sIx

To celebrate the launch of this FIRST EDITION of a self-published pamphlet containing all 11 poems in the Complete Collection of BALADIN’S DREAM and OTHER TALES by edenbray, along with full Authors Notes, I am offering a signed, printed hard-copy for just £5 inc. post/packing for orders within the United Kingdom and £6.50 inc. shipping for orders outside the UK ~ This is a limited time offer!

#NOTE ~ please email ME ;~ stepheneede689@btinternet.com or post a comment in the comments box at the foot of this page and request details of how to make payment ~ including your name and the address where you would like the printed copy to be sent ~ PLEASE indicate if it is to be a gift.                      Many thanks ~ edenbraytoday

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TO Celebrate the occasion I am re-posting all eleven parts  –  Today it is BALADINS DREAM  ~ Part IX – REMEMBERIN’ LUCY 

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BALADIN’S DREAM

and OTHER TALES

by edenbray

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BALADIN’S DREAM ~ IX

Authors note ~

The ninth and originally the final part of the Dream of Baladin is possibly harder to follow than most I will admit and may need a translator which was in part my intention. Baladin has wandered in and out of America’s modern history and so of course had to be around at the time of the Battle of Little Bighorn to witness the final frontier of white mans humiliation of America’s proud and indigenous peoples who fought but failed to save their dignity at that horrific battle.

Pelleneous, I understand was an Indian squaw who changed her name to Lucy! ~ Loved by her people and adored by white men for her beauty she was married to Captain Darius by whom she had children and who we understand may have died at the hands of her natural kin.

How much of this is true or is legend we may only surmise and the jumble of this tale is confused further, due to Baladin’s aged and emotionally saddened memory as he recounts this most torrid part of his Dream. This tortured tale of love, hate and war-torn history he recounts on his very death bed. It was originally placed as Part III of the Dream to reflect its chronological order in the wholeness of the story and within Baladin’s long life.

This tale may in part also owe much to my respect for Arthur Pen’s epic film Little Big Man; to the romantic story of Pocahontas and John Smith; to General Custer and Chief Sitting Bull and their vitriolic feud; to Davy Crocket and John Wayne; to John Ford’s classic western ‘the Searchers’; to Chief Dan George or possibly the best proportion of a most excellent bottle of Sazerac straight Rye Whisky. Baladin passed, shortly after recounting this torrid tale on his way to that great reservation in the sky!         edenbraytoday

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BALADIN’S DREAM

IX

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REMEMBERIN’ LUCY!

 

P P P

The plane pain is in the moment passing

and the joyful laughter which grates

Even sunlight can carry an annoyance factor

and my father, a grey resistance worker

I tumbled the ‘Redskin Falls’ ashamed

of what ‘we’ had done with a blockade

And a night to remember at ‘Bighorn’

so many were lying reeking in the hot sun

By the sweet Pelleneous smiling in the dark night

which lit fires and helped men of war to dream

So much won would trickle through their hands

return to deserts of trial in the morning

O’ Pelleneous sweet peace distilling

O’ caravan and round the hawk who flies

The morning skies and the grey craggy mountain

sights clear around the sound of a crying wind

Mother bear is laid out in the sun

while down in the raw valley hairs skip

A green lizard cool on the bleached stones

yet the trample of hoof is the iron fist

Darius had two white horses

was always one for the moment

He would fly if that was the choice of dragons

caught with two shots to the chest

O’ Darius, life is past its best

with fourteen thousand renegades

Arrows marked so cold and bloody

eagles visit the moon on the red river

The bleeding heart is won

two naked lovers who swam together

O’ Pelleneous never met the boy

or taught the man enough to care

At home in Brighorn County

two plump geese grazing corn

White children of both the lost and lonely

the jack nipped at the younger’s finger

The rivers swell now washing umber

Indian maids tear-stained gaze

O’ Pelleneous your beauty scarred

you met the masters thunder.

p p p

 written 06.04.2012

DA EDENBRAY

thanks for listening …

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BALADIN’S DREAM & OTHER TALES – VIII

fIve

To celebrate the launch of this FIRST EDITION of a self-published pamphlet containing all 11 poems in the Complete Collection of BALADIN’S DREAM and OTHER TALES by edenbray, along with full Authors Notes, I am offering a signed, printed hard-copy for just £5 inc. post/packing for orders within the United Kingdom and £6.50 inc. shipping for orders outside the UK ~ This is a limited time offer!

#NOTE ~ please email ME ;~ stepheneede689@btinternet.com or post a comment in the comments box at the foot of this page and request details of how to make payment ~ including your name and the address where you would like the printed copy to be sent ~ PLEASE indicate if it is to be a gift.                      Many thanks ~ edenbraytoday

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TO Celebrate the occasion I am re-posting all eleven parts  –  Today it is BALADINS DREAM  ~ Part VIII ~ FAREN and MELIOR

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BALADIN’S DREAM

and OTHER TALES

by edenbray

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BALADIN’S DREAM ~ VIII

Authors note ~

This was the 1st published part of the almost unending collection of prose that is Baladin’s Dream. I wrote this first poem in the miscellany in 1990.

Baladin ~ a sage, a prophet, a mystic, a mythical and spiritual visitor to our planet and possibly others, who in his latter years recounts from his vast memoirs of life & experience ~ stories of tragedy and joy, either true or imagined, in a rambling tome of vivid recollections including deep, biographical insight.

A Dream ~ The Many Parts of this Dream take on various poses and deal with different facets of human experience, faith, myth and fantasy and occur within various time zones and cultural settings. Whether these stories indicate that Baladin has kind of always been with us ~ as an observer of humanity, both life and death, who tells tales with his own wisdom and from his own, unique perspective – I leave you the reader to sumise and decide

Join in with Baladin’s Dream and possibly you may be enriched, enthused, enlightened and even en-wisened!?!                              

                                                                                          ~ edenbraytoday

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BALADIN’S DREAM

VIII

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FAREN and MELIOR

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Melior, the strange creature

stumbled toward him

in a blind and ashen fit

he frothed and tore at him

with blind rage and anger

he was lost in an uncontrollable frenzy.

   

Faren caught the strange terror

by his mane and flinging him madly

against the hard stone floor

he drew the glinting rapier from it’s scabbard

and with a cry as clear and

hearty as he could muster

threw himself upon the strange animal

and buried the stinging steel

between its breasts.

Melior convulsed and tore again

with giant hairy paws

reaching vainly at Faren’s throat

his grey and scaly tail

lashed in a wild circle

but his assailant caught him

a severe blow to the temple

with a mailed fist.

For the first time Melior

uttered a vocal sound,

a terrified cry as the

rapier swung mercilessly

removing a large patch

of his grey spongy flesh

and causing an ooze

which ran with an acrid odour

down his terrified face,

his movements now involuntary,

strange, with garbled, choking noises

and a wild strangled sobbing

as he writhed violently.

The noises abated

the stench now sickening

A final staggered, spasmic reaction

then Melior gasped no more…

    

Who took the sun

and made a hole in the sky?

Who dressed and cloaked

in dark clouds stole forth

in the daylight and plundered the earth?

Whose murky thoughts invaded

more than a single generation?

Whose evil countenance smiled

and silenced loves sweet

moments for a long hour?

Melior’s thunder was fierce

his lightening a sharp tongue

that lashed and flailed

His anguish a bitter poultice

for the misery born in his heart

and many born old and dying.

Melior,  grey and pale

starved of suns warmth

and again roasted black

by suns fiercest rays,

outcast and jeolous

his night knew no end.

   

Faren, stood a victor unvanquished

but saddened by the

misery of the battle

with the great grey Melior

now a cold heap lying

who had been a champion

a darkened prince

his latest form now relieved of terror

which seemed to relax

as a rose hue falling

from this evening light

washed over Faren’s haggard frame

almost bringing to him

the joy of early, regal youth.

Faren knew oh so keenly

the hopeless pain Melior had born

but the gas that now reeked the air

causing even the ground

upon he lay to stain

was indeed the final admission

that Melior’s very life had been evil

and as he walked from the scene

his weapon lying spent

beside its final purpose

a calm and special moment grew.

   

Faren’s face now caught

the light of the evening sky

it threw a strange colour

an aura around him,

a sky green that drew gold

his eyes still lowered

out of some greater respect

for the many sad tales

this night preceded.

Faren walked toward a turquoise haze

sheltered green by a grassy bank

and as he walked

the dark dreams fell from him like shadows.

He passed through them

his head lifting imperceptibly to the light

while it seemed that figures were appearing

not individuals admiring

more, triumphant armies adoring

as a gentle hollow horn blew

and gained momentum

stirring both sense and emotion

the gathered clans assembling

of every righteous battle won.

    

Now Faren seemed to bear a scar

and every victors garland hung

to his neck most gracious.

He was now adorned royal

and to the horn could now be heard

an anthem quire singing

sweet pain it drew easy.

Farens’ temples bathed in golden light

now held firm and honoured.

A gentleness distilled

his eyes softened grey, set

lifted the many noble

champions to see.

Gold and silver lined the crowds

a magical dawn, a living allegory

a famed tale, an open hand

as now hung the herald shields

polished bright and glorious

now stored the arms of battle

now formed these soft, sweet words

of memories past when pain had been real

and blood the currency of decision

when the terror of Melior a fabled dragon

may be writ or sung

and the error of the story enormous.

   

Now sing the birds

not mourn the wound of creation

Now dance the maidens

not swear the curse of youth

Now laugh the ancients

the eternal children

Now skip the young men

not shame the burden of honour

the bracelet of respect.

Faren’s peoples joy

the uninhibited spectacle

this celebratory feast

this betrothal ceremony

it has begun and never, never would it end.

    

written 30.06.1990 ~ edited 10.04.2011

DA EDENBRAY

thanks for listening …

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BALADIN’S DREAM & OTHER TALES – VII

tWo

To celebrate the launch of this FIRST EDITION of a self-published pamphlet containing all 11 poems in the Complete Collection of BALADIN’S DREAM and OTHER TALES by edenbray, along with full Authors Notes, I am offering a signed, printed hard-copy for just £5 inc. post/packing for orders within the United Kingdom and £6.50 inc. shipping for orders outside the UK ~ This is a limited time offer!

#NOTE ~ please email ME ;~ stepheneede689@btinternet.com or post a comment in the comments box at the foot of this page and request details of how to make payment ~ including your name and the address where you would like the printed copy to be sent ~ PLEASE indicate if it is to be a gift.                      Many thanks ~ edenbraytoday

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TO Celebrate the occasion I am re-posting all eleven parts  –  Today it is BALADINS DREAM  ~ Part VII ~ BARAHZUIN

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BALADIN’S DREAM

and OTHER TALES

by edenbray

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BALADIN’S DREAM ~ VII

Authors note ~

The LEGEND of Baladin continues apace with this unusual comedic ditty that details the time Baladin spent in the Yukon Valley, ever a writers paradise and famous for its Tales of the Klondike.

This is Part VII of the Omnibus that is ‘The Tales of Baladin’. The chapters or parts were not recorded or written in a chronological order! As with other pieces it includes an unspoken and personal tribute ~ on this occasion to the respected writer Jack London and his snowy tales that I so loved as a child.

It also speaks of Manitok, Baladin’s Eskimo bride who bore Baladin his only known child, to develop the myth of the man and add to his remarkable story!

Welcome, then to the famous tale of  The “Ba-rai-zuin” and how he met his sorry end.

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BALADIN’S DREAM

VII

THE BARAHZUIN

   

           

He fought the Ba-rai-zuin when the snow was thick n’ chillin’

He journeyed a’top the western slopes, his husky pack a’skewin’

He bought a musket from a store where th’whusky wasa’ brewin

He Slew the Bah-rai-Zuin

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Nor many months his honey chile had been gently ‘picininnis’

grewin’

So he took him a jug, 1/2 a pig-hog and a length of beef jerky

fa’ tha’ chewin’

The ole smokestack was nae’ cold from the biddy and the engine

it were slewin’

DemBala, he slew the Bah-rai-Zuin

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He panned for gold by the River Shore where dem’ grey fish

die a’ queue-in’

Yet these tales he told to the worn an’ bold did not go

down real well in tha’ tellin’

Till he told them all of his miraculous fall wi’ Jud,

down the jag’d falls of E’rin

By that time they kinda’ already knew,

who slew the Bah-rai-Zuin

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Manitok ~ ‘is Rugged’, she bore him tha’ child he loved,

his virgin bride her eyes so wide

Two weeks later down in the northern range his ‘Creedmor’

and two bearskins by his side

A fren’ brought news of ‘Manirik’ ~ his sweet-soft ‘panik’ an’

Baladin, he done broke down and cried

Who slew the Bah-rai-zuin!

.

Ole’ Porcupine has ice that makes a’cut in Yukon terri-tory

as summer bees are clustrin’

They fight to keep ‘us’ warm, not freeze, yet starve beyon’

tha blu’ Mackenzie Mount’n

Where Baladin has wrestled cold and spied the Alligator’s

Ash, one-part the ‘Ring of Fire’

an’ quenched the Bah-rai-zuin ~ his blood desire’

.

Who’s howl awakened death, brought tha’ wind to heel,

where blood runs to cold in night-light

For pirates of the Klondyke, this creature wore

their match and sent many home to town

DemBala the wolf-master,  he tamed the pack by stealth

for only he knew a killing grasp

He who slew the Bah-rai-zuin ~ stone dead!

.

   

written 18.03.2012

.

DA EDENBRAY.

… thanks for listening!

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BALADIN’S DREAM & OTHER TALES – VI

tHRee

To celebrate the launch of this FIRST EDITION of a self-published pamphlet containing all 11 poems in the Complete Collection of BALADIN’S DREAM and OTHER TALES by edenbray, along with full Authors Notes, I am offering a signed, printed hard-copy for just £5 inc. post/packing for orders within the United Kingdom and £6.50 inc. shipping for orders outside the UK ~ This is a limited time offer!

#NOTE ~ please email ME ;~ stepheneede689@btinternet.com or post a comment in the comments box at the foot of this page and request details of how to make payment ~ including your name and the address where you would like the printed copy to be sent ~ PLEASE indicate if it is to be a gift.                      Many thanks ~ edenbraytoday

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⚜︎ ⚜︎ ⚜︎

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TO Celebrate the occasion I am re-posting all eleven parts  –  Today it is BALADINS DREAM  ~ Part VI ~ HAPOELLE

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⚜︎ ⚜︎ ⚜︎

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BALADIN’S DREAM

and OTHER TALES

by edenbray

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⚜︎

BALADIN’S DREAM ~ VI

Authors Note ~

I have to acknowledge that this piece probably owes much to fifties filmmaking which I grew up with and great literature like Treasure Island, Gulliver’s Travels etc. It references epics like Moby Dick, Mutiny On The Bounty and other less well-known films of that time, many shot in black and white and shown on our tiny TV screens allowing the magic of cinema to transport post-war Britain to different cultures and circumstances and join in with adventures of excitement and derring-do.

Baladin is once again the central character at another stage of his enormous life and who now recalls his time as a whaler, who found himself briefly ~ a bit like Fletcher Christian ~ catapulted into a world of tropical delights in an acceptance-culture where anything goes as long as it’s love-based. John Lennon would surely have approved. The freedom of this imaginary setting allows for a mildly sensuous and wistful story to unfold in a Utopian society where  our moral compass and human values may be challenged.

Baladin, like an earlier, more cultured Forest Gump steps through the pages of early modern history and in this piece reminds us of the origins of much of America’s earliest wealth in more poetic times before global-warming and the industrial excesses of the modern world have made it our central focus.

Hapoelle is basically a slice of harmless descriptive novelette, it is a cracking good tale based around hard-edged facts. Hopefully it is also a bit of fun!     

~ edenbraytoday   

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BALADIN’S DREAM

VI

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HAPOELLE

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She was the youngest daughter of a Polynesian chieftain

Her soft flesh wore the colour of sun-blushed, dried cinnamon 

She could sway her hips like Guava trees in a high wind

Or pandanus which she loved and whose fruit she carried  

home to her father, those hairy, hard shells so heavy

Hapoelle’s breasts hung like two mountain apples

All these island girls, capricious, still went semi-naked in 1845

The year Baladin’s boat came to rest on the coral sand dunes

and the ships crew put up, to take comfort in the local nation

Whose manners chipper ~ wore a plaited & flowered

welcome garland!

     

And Bellannea, Hapoelle’s friend with bosoms he likened to lilikoi

For they were round, ripe and generous, she slept with John Dray

For all the long while they encamped upon that sunny island

Dray drew pictures of her every day, with a stick of

sketchers’ sanguine

He had bought for a penny in an artist’s shop near the

Kennington Oval in London

Baladins’ fondness for the chieftains maiden served only

To leave him melancholic for a woman he had promised to

back home in Sussex

She of fairer skin and lighter sympathy would not have dallied so

Or made almond eyes at an honest gentleman, half betroth to wife

He was caught now in a honey trap and only drank the

hummingbirds sap

     

He rolled with Hapoelle, his native lover and learned to

speak of intimacy with her

While his deeper heart settled on a corner of Albion,

where oak-lined villages wait

A gamble of ‘little lambs’ standing on the wide horizon

in the heat of a July sun 

Children watching masted, trawler boats return to this

Britains shore to make her great

Baladin’s eyes heavy, his jaw firm set at the memory of the

pinkest salmon in Britains rivers

    

The masters of regret, caught this one failed mission in

an ocean ranger’s eye

Those purple mists of time ~ ragged, bloody and faded,

cannot rob the man that moment

Nor his sight, long in the maze of memory which causes

him to smile and mimic sense

He, recalling the freshness of her breath, the lightness

of her girth and quiver

The many gentle moments and pleasure she loaned him

in that strangest summer

If summer she be when settled on a Polynesian Island

in the years when the whale,

Both giant and gentle, was still birthing a nation at the

heart of the Western Isles

Those morbid midwives who sing wistful tales, arctic

and northern narwhals

Not sperm or humpback that the soulful Baladin,

his captain and his crew knew

Courted, chased and lauded with folk songs of wistful

reason and lament

     

Baladin has been riding these waves of histories choices

for more than the years of one hundred and three

His dream has lived through longer than the pale

afternoon of those sunnier days

When those sweetest companions of lust and beauty,

soft sirens in warm, tropic seas

Were moist moments adorned with the heat of young

and ardent pleasure

Yet still worn of a season of pride where captains of the past

salute future’s ambassadors.

written 09.03.2012

.

.

DA EDENBRAY

Dostoeedsky

thanks for listening …

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BALADIN’S DREAM & OTHER TALES – V

fOUr

To celebrate the launch of this FIRST EDITION of a self-published pamphlet containing all 11 poems in the Complete Collection of BALADIN’S DREAM and OTHER TALES by edenbray, along with full Authors Notes, I am offering a signed, printed hard-copy for just £5 inc. post/packing for orders within the United Kingdom and £6.50 inc. shipping for orders outside the UK ~ This is a limited time offer!

#NOTE ~ please email ME ;~ stepheneede689@btinternet.com or post a comment in the comments box at the foot of this page and request details of how to make payment ~ including your name and the address where you would like the printed copy to be sent ~ PLEASE indicate if it is to be a gift.     Many thanks ~ edenbraytoday

.

⚜︎ ⚜︎ ⚜︎

.

TO Celebrate the occasion I am re-posting all eleven parts  –  Today it is the turn of BALADINS DREAM  ~ Part V ~ THE WATCHMAN

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⚜︎ ⚜︎ ⚜︎

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BALADIN’S DREAM

and OTHER TALES

by edenbray

.

⚜︎

BALADIN’S DREAM

V

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THE WATCHMAN

.

       

A few and then many

The quiet night speaks

Peace to many plans

The watchman abroad at night

Serves his many chores

Revels in his patient duty

To trim the wick that light flickers

Burns to glow and beckon

Can we prevail upon him so?

Who watches for our souls

Who prays and holds the night winds at bay

and faults the eastern snows not enter

Or speaks to birds of prey

While they converge to plunder?

   

He wrestles the man of pain

and tests the spirits of the torn

and the tortured who leer

In the hearth the embers amber

Are fanned and spawned

To love they are born and weaned

In hope they conceived innocent

Do crackle and breathe deeply

Of heavens richest, rarest air

This nightly scene shared with

The favoured and chosen

Whose journey is worn of care

Whose habit not course

Is yet taught by trial

Of dedication and purpose

Oh watchman who sits by

Ever heartened by companions

Whose thoughts heard are words

Wolden and tinged crimson

With a heat and a light

So pure and blessed

The watchman of the night so sure

He is a worthy special sight!

       

.

written 08.02.1992

DA EDENBRAY

Da Edenbray

thanks for listening …

Posted in Baladin's Dream, PROG-PROSE | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment