An Umbar Knight …

Isn’t copyright a complicated issue … ?

It is, though, isn’t it … ?

Take the picture: it’s called Dragon and Child, so you know, and by an artist who posts to Deviant Art, called Rinpoo Chuang.

And owned by him, I should add.

The reason I mention it … ?

Is because — unlike most of the stuff on Nik Nak’s Old Peculiar — isn’t covered by the Creative commons license I use for the Teasers and question sets.

It’s covered by the usual copyright law in everyone reading this post’s home country.

There’s a reason I’m mention this, as well …

Do you remember me mentioning a friend of mine, called Carly … ?

And how I was pleasantly surprised she’s a published poet … ?

»»•««

Well, I was …

And she is.

And … ?

Bless her, Carly’s also very graciously given me permission to put one of her poems — The Umbar Knight — here. Hence the attached Copyright notice, and details of where to buy the anthology she’s in at the foot of the page …

The Umbar Knight*

Slip unto a knight’s full slumber,

where sylvan burns a deepest umber,

where folksongs ebb away from rhyme,

replaced on this dusk a chorus of chime.

Shut out this land where heathens race,

as urchins scroll for treasure'd embrace,

using mischief through love, by con by malice,

seeking out gold emerald gems, merlin chalice.

Yet, brave are thee with much honour and stealth,

for no beast nor vagrant shall risk their health,

as bless’ed born thee with an awesome attire,

in your crimson river coarses passion and fire,

And to this dragons bow and all evil repents,

for your gift in heart is a’ heaven sent.

now as the leaves whip up on a reverie,

be, I’m proud of you and those dreams so free,

Oh sleep on, sleep deep and child listen well;

your physique maybe small like a winters' fell.

but you'll grow down roots of greatness bespoke,

for the acorn shells the strong mighty oak.

So slip unto a knight’s full slumber,

where sylvan burns the deepest umber.

where folksong ebb away from rhyme,

replaced on this dusk a chorus of chime …

Bless …

Now, I’m going to be frank, I’m no poetry reader, usually.

But I enjoyed that … !

What touched me … ?

Is that Carly, bless her, originally wrote The Umber Knight for her nephew to help give him some confidence.

And, the other day … ?

Turned to me — on Facebook Chat, I should add — and asked if I’d like a poem.

And then, through FB’s chat service, recited to me, and dedicated it to Jude, my nephew.

I was deeply touched, I’ve got to honest.

Help, deeds or advice offered freely between friends is always deeply appreciated.

And why we treasure them, and do as much as we can for them.

But just occasionally … ?

Just occasionally, I think a line of poetry, just when one needs it … ?

Can work small miracles.

»»•««

* The Umber Knight, is © 2010 Carly Burns and reprinted with her express permission. It’s available as part of The Power of Poetry anthology, from United Press, 2011. To order copies, contact United Press, here. For further details, please contact United Press at info@unitedpress.co.uk.

A Day for Mourning …

Phew …

That was a sad morning …

You remember, a while ago, that I wrote of an old friend’s death?

Well …

Bless, Sharon’s Memorial was today, at All Saints’ Church, in Doddinghurst.

God rest her soul, she actually died back in July, and many of her friends and family, here in Brentwood were unable to attend the funeral, as it was on Sharon’s beloved new home of the Isle of Wight.

Quite a distance, as you can imagine.

Which is why Kayleigh, Sharon’s daughter, felt a Memorial was appropriate for those of Sharon’s friends here in Brentwood who weren’t able to make it.

Which included a lot of people Sharon had known; and old friends and work-mates I’d not seen for many years.

It’s just a shame it seems that the few chances I get to see some of the old gang, in when someone dies, it really is.

Actually, that is something that shocked me, I though Sharon was older than it turned out she was.

47!

That shocked me, that’s only a few years older than myself.

However, joining up with a group I’d known, to celebrate someone we’d all known, and have good memories of?

That was good.

It let us share memories of one now gone.

•••••

One thing I can always remember was the fact Sharon had a very dry sense of humour; and one that could always dig up a cheesy — and I mean cheesy — joke or two.

There’s one I remember her telling me, quite distinctly, one lunchtime, when we were both working a shift at the Essex Arms.

A rabbit goes into a pub, one lunchtime, and orders a cheese toastie and half a pint of cider.

It eats the toastie, drinks the cider and goes off happy.

It comes back in, the next day, orders a ham toastie, with half a cider, and — once again — goes off happy.

Day three sees our rabbit come in and order half a cider and a cheese & tomato toastie, and seemingly goes away happy, after lunch.

The rabbit doesn’t appear for the next few days, and when it does, just orders a half pint of of cider.

Looking as rough as a rabbit can, whilst still being upright.

The barman eyes the rabbit up and down and, in an effort to make conversation, says “You’re looking really unwell; is everything ok?”

The rabbit say “I’ve just been to me doctor’s … he’s told me to calm down it down, lunch time. I’ll be honest …”

“Yes … ?” says the barman, curiously.

“I’ve been mixing me toasties” said the rabbit …

•••••

Sad and cheesy, I know.

But Shaz would be able to tell that sort of thing with a devilish glint in her eye, and a smile on her face, that would charm the rocks of of anyone still left groaning.

That’s it, I think; THAT’s why we were there, today.

Not just out of shared grief, though that was there at the loss of a friend.

Nor respect. That was there, for both her and Kayleigh, Sharon’s daughter; who, incidentally, has shown herself to be both as tough, and as fun loving as her mother, and amazingly mature and dignified in dealing with her mother’s death, at such a young age.

But because we’d all been touched by someone special.

That’s my point, I think.

Sharon got an amazingly good turn out, for her Memorial; one I think she would be pleased to have known about.

Because we remembered, and wanted to mark the passing of someone special.

♱

May The Road Rise To Meet You.

Loving Angel’s

I’ve got to confess, I’ve just found this piece on Deviantart, and loved it.

In part, because it’s a beautiful piece of art work.

But in part, because it seem a nice picture to have here.

After something of an emotional day.

I’ve had some very bad news.

I’ve found out I’ve two friends who I’ve not seen in a while are both suffering with cancer.

That’s something I’ve found devastating, as both are people I’ve known for a long, long time.

I can only imagine, though, what their respective families are going through.

I’m hoping and praying that both will be able to make it through the proverbial rain.

But find myself frustrated that there’s little I can do to help, except wish them and theirs well, and hope that if there’s anything they need me doing, I can do.

•••••

19/7/2009

But, my gods, news like that that really does force one to look at oneself, doesn’t it?

It has me.

I know I find myself looking at my smoking, more frequently than I did.