What a Bardic Circle....

[Carey McClure]

For your reading enjoyment, here find a review of the Small Bardic 
	Circle heald last weekend in Elfsea at a private home....I travel from Bryn 
	Gwlad and had a very good time....

**	vivat to all who made it possible and attended.  *****

			Connor son of Clure, Byrn Gwlad

   Info by HL Sagra, Thanks very much!!

Information about Saturday night:  your hosts were Baroness Mistress 
Kalida Aristana and Baron Sir Thorkel, with an admirable assist from Duchess
Mistress Willow de Wisp.  Others who were present were Honorable Lord (I
think he is HL) Roger RedHand, Lady Averial, Honorable Lady Sagra al-Kudsi, 
Honorable Lady Caireen and Lord Rupert the Unwary, Lady Llereth and el-Sayyid 
Amra, and a whole bunch of people from Lindenwood who I do not know.  
The harpist was named Lark, who is new to the kingdom.  

I've forgotten the name of the lady who was apprenticed to Willow and who was such a 
good story teller. 
      
         * If anone knows her name please e-mail me at applelk at eden.com.

And don't forget Calico and her two kittens, Blanco and Marmelade!

Reverie
Saqra al-Kudsi

	And also speaking of Saturday night, following is the poem that I was looking
	for but didn't find:



Gazing out on these alien, icy mountains and rocky shore
Hearing the rattling spears, the men’s shouts while hunting the wild boar,
I remember the dusty brown hills of the home where I lived before.
So clearly now I see it, limned in fire, tempered with passing time
The simple window, plain walls built with love, the barren dirt floor,
The corner loom, the hanging herbs, the setting cheese,
Handspun wool in colorful skeins beside the wooden door,
Baskets of figs, sheafs of wheat, the glistening olive oil.
All are dust now, ashes and ruins, cries in the wind, nothing more,
Seen through a curtain of blowing snow, covered with the restless sands.

What is war but swords which cut, voices which loudly clamor,
Whips which crack and slash, blood which spills, and tears which fall?
What gives this show of strength such everlasting glamour
But leaves children homeless, parents bereft, homes distroyed?
These nightmares endless echo, dreams painted in pain and gore,
The idle boasts of careless men, the bravado of scared young boys
Which make women’s hands shake in fearful tremor
And defenseless children in terror-stricken voices scream.

Here, for now, is quiet peace, a chance to serenity restore.
The swish of shuttle, the pound of beaters in the loom,
The chattering of girls, gossiping gaily, at rest from each daily chore.
Laughter, music, the thumps of threshing, the grind of the stones --
I work with lightened heart, the fruits and fodder to careful store.
The sounds of home, echoing from across time and miles distance;
The bleating of milling sheep, the lowing of cattle in healthy vigor
Their coats shaggy and long and warm with heavy winter growth.
All preparing for long nights, cold winds, the season’s rigor
Where all unite to face winter’s icy storms -- the common foe.
These natural challenges are more the enemies I favor,
As I go on, and leave man-made death and destruction to the past.
But these words I gather, and to those who hear I now implore
To cherish the study of peace as greatly as the arts of war.

>>>>

It is a form of Arabic poetry called the qasada (loosely, an ode).  I was
thrilled when it was published in Tournements Illuminated, along with a brief
article on the poetic form.  I got many comments from across the Knowne World
which I will always treasure as a poet.  

		Hope you enjoy it...

>>>>>	Thanks for the details, I enjoyed the bardic circle, but al allways....

		..IT IS NEVER LONG ENOUGH..

	Connor son of Clure