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Fanfare Poem published in "Immortal Hymns"...

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Katie-Ellen

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The gods of ancient Greece are alive and kicking, and they've got plenty to say. I am very happy to have a new poem, Charon Calling, published in this book, published in the US, available on Kindle and soon to be released in paperback.

Immortal Hymns


If classical Greek mythology is your cup of tea...there is a writing community on twitter @InthePantheon
 

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RK Capps

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The gods of ancient Greece are alive and kicking, and they've got plenty to say. I am very happy to have a new poem, Charon Calling, published in this book, published in the US, available on Kindle and soon to be released in paperback.

Immortal Hymns


If classical Greek mythology is your cup of tea...there is a writing community on twitter @InthePantheon

Congratulations!!! :clapping-hands: :bottle-with-popping-cork: :sparkles:
 

Katie-Ellen

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Thank you kindly, all. Meanwhile the novel has lain gathering dust for over a year now, not one single send out. Have been on a monthly writing schedule on an astrology site I write for, different modes of thinking, and I struggle to put my mind in both places.

This latest poem means two pieces of writing published in December; together with an essay in a book of astronomy. Stars of Orion.

Both approached me for contributions rather than the other way round, and both paid me- the so-what of this for my writing friends at Litopia being, they both came about spontaneously through connections on Twitter and associated social media.
 

Katie-Ellen

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Fantastic! The Pleiades feature in my piece for The Stars of Orion but this is more comprehensive.

An ancient Arab legend said that should The Bull of Heaven ever break free of his starry pen as represented by The Pleiades, then he will stampede the entire Universe to pieces, and it will be the end of all things for all time. And they feared Aldebaran, 'The Follower' - the red Eye of the Bull.

Oo-er. Better hope there are not too many mozzies up there, or horseflies to upset him.
 

Vagabond Heart

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On the subject of Greek myths, hubby and I went to Nemea, leaving me with this impression to put in my blog...

NEMEA

You've heard of Hercules defeating the Nemean Lion? Well, this is where the legend takes place.

The story goes that, as the first of his 'Labours', King Eurystheus sends Hercules off to kill a certain lion that has been causing havoc in the area. And then he must bring him back the skin as proof. Otherwise he could have just, you know, say he's done it.

As 'Labours' go, this sounds a bit tame: killing a lion is not that big a deal. But this particular beast has fur that is impenetrable, and claws that can cut through both swords and armour. Which just shows what the King thinks of Hercules.

Now, the H-man has been told about the lion - all about it. But he's as thick as two short planks, and tries to shoot it with arrows which naturally just ping off. To give him his due, he doesn't quit, and eventually corners it in a cave and chokes it to death. Round one to Hercules.

But now he has to skin it. Having totally forgotten about the strength of the animal's fur - it having been, ooh, minutes since the arrows bounced off - he tries to cut it with a knife. Epic fail. Aha, he thinks, I'll sharpen my knife with a stone. Fails again. This goes on for some time, until Hercules tries to hack it off with the stone. Not a lateral thinker, our Herc.

By this time the Gods are all placing bets and pissing themselves laughing. Zeus is wiping tears from his eyes, muttering, he's the gift that keeps on giving. But Athena has had enough, and drops down to Earth to give him a nudge in the right direction.

That's quite a lion, you've got there, she says.

I know, right? Got claws that can cut through armour, too. I'm bloody heroic, I am.

Cut through armour, can they? Wow, that's really sharp.

Yes it is, and now I've got to skin it, and look what it's done to my best knife? It's all bent up.


Athena tries again.
If only you had something here that was sharp enough to cut through armour - that would do the trick, wouldn't it?

The stone didn't work either,
says Herc, completely mystified.

Oh, for fuck's sake, use the claws, the claws! Seriously, what is wrong with you?

And that's exactly how it happened, and I personally think this story has something that every one of us can identify with.
 

Katie-Ellen

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The poem came from a prose scene in a novel I've written about a young policeman who is a psychic medium, haunted by his long dead little brother. His brother drowned in the river Severn and his body was never found...the Severn is his Styx. At last the young policeman calls on Charon to come and fetch his brother home...

Boat on the river



Charon Calling



They murmur, milling lonely on the quay

The newly dead wait anxiously

Watching for the square black sails



It does not sail so much as glide or float

When finally they see the boat

Looming through the mist of last gasps



The solitary figure at the helm

Charon, son of Erebus and Nyx

Unsmiling sailor of the Styx



The boat is moored so swiftly no-one sees

Then just like that, he’s standing on the quay

No-one even saw him disembark.



The head turns sharply, shadowed in its hood

Charon, keen-eyed, sizing up the queue

The anxious dead poke out their tongues



To show the coin, the payment for the crossing

Like melting ice he glides, a courteous

Nod, approving them in silence one by one



A baby snuffles, swaddled on its mother’s arm

He bends and gently chucks the baby’s chin

Turns to the mother, just a girl, so pale and thin



The baby’s got the fare, now what about her?

She pokes out her own tongue, shows the coin

A prayerful husband, broken, placed there



To land them safe together on the farthest shore

The son of Night and Shadow moves on smoothly as before

The dead girl rocks her baby, thankful, smiling now

.

If they’d got no pennies would he take them anyway?

Take them as a catch-weight, look the other way?

Or deny them, leave them stranded in eternity?



A hundred years until they go across for free

Those are the rules, so the ancient legends say

But who’s in charge here, anyway?







Katie-Ellen Hazeldine
 

Pamela Jo

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The poem came from a prose scene in a novel I've written about a young policeman who is a psychic medium, haunted by his long dead little brother. His brother drowned in the river Severn and his body was never found...the Severn is his Styx. At last the young policeman calls on Charon to come and fetch his brother home...

Boat on the river



Charon Calling



They murmur, milling lonely on the quay

The newly dead wait anxiously

Watching for the square black sails



It does not sail so much as glide or float

When finally they see the boat

Looming through the mist of last gasps



The solitary figure at the helm

Charon, son of Erebus and Nyx

Unsmiling sailor of the Styx



The boat is moored so swiftly no-one sees

Then just like that, he’s standing on the quay

No-one even saw him disembark.



The head turns sharply, shadowed in its hood

Charon, keen-eyed, sizing up the queue

The anxious dead poke out their tongues



To show the coin, the payment for the crossing

Like melting ice he glides, a courteous

Nod, approving them in silence one by one



A baby snuffles, swaddled on its mother’s arm

He bends and gently chucks the baby’s chin

Turns to the mother, just a girl, so pale and thin



The baby’s got the fare, now what about her?

She pokes out her own tongue, shows the coin

A prayerful husband, broken, placed there



To land them safe together on the farthest shore

The son of Night and Shadow moves on smoothly as before

The dead girl rocks her baby, thankful, smiling now

.

If they’d got no pennies would he take them anyway?

Take them as a catch-weight, look the other way?

Or deny them, leave them stranded in eternity?



A hundred years until they go across for free

Those are the rules, so the ancient legends say

But who’s in charge here, anyway?







Katie-Ellen Hazeldine
Absolute class. I love the premise of your novel too.
 

Katie-Ellen

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A silver birch dryad...well, this dryad has her own Elder Futhark rune. Beorc/Berkana....the rune of mother, home...rune magic might use this rune to fetch someone safely home.

It reminds me, of doing a reading once, for a lady who ran her own farm. But the poor lady was sick. I drew this rune and was struck that the birch seemed to want to help her. I asked if she had birch trees on her farm, or really close to the house. She said there was a birch near the back door, and when she felt bad, she sometimes went to stand beneath it, and lean against it for a moment of calm and comfort.
 

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News Wow! Our worst fear?

Fanfare Craft Chat is now up and running

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