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 ;~ 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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by edenbray



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








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


thanks for listening …

About edenbray

I am a writer ... a beat poet who began writing poetry way back in 1966 ... 'edenbray is born ugly, wet, covered in blood, mucous & bodily functions, the effluence of my short life' ... I recently published my 1st solo Anthology - the best of 60 years writing - previously I ran my own Art Supplies Store for 40 yrs before I became a full-time writer I am a Blogger who has posted 1,000 poems - available in 24 themed booklets ... please ask for details + leave a 'like' or a comment for my encouragement, thank you so much for listening - I truly value your opinion on my work ~ in fact I literally survive on your creative input ~ edenbray
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