The Saracen's Head

Happy Airborne Day!

Today is National Airborne Day!

So here's an airborne poem:

 

The sun was sinking slowly down the hot Tunisian hills

When we lined up at the airfield on that broiling summer’s eve;

We were tense with great excitement, we were raring for the kill,

And the pride was stiff within us of the Airborne on our sleeve.

We were green but quite undaunted, we were eager for a spree,

Though ‘twas hell that we were nearing on the hills of Sicily.

 

We took off in the darkness, smoothly forming into flights

Two hundred mighty transports throbbed out bravely in the night

We lost our bragging voices and our joking lost its fun

We were praying, we were silent, as we readied for the run.

Sarge called “Ready”, we were ready, we lined up above the sea

And we wondered what was waiting on the hills of Sicily.

 

"Saint Anthony!" We put ourselves in God’s almighty power

We jumped although the wind was screaming thirty miles an hour

Around us searchlights glistened, shellfire burst apart the sky

But we tumbled from the heavens with the good old Injun cry.

Before us lay a battle, grim from sea to bloody sea,

But we showed ourselves true soldiers on the hills of Sicily.

 

We have won this little island, we have won her with our blood

We have fought her menfolk, dug our graves and foxholes in her mud.

We have loved her, and ‘twas for her weeping people that we fought,

We have wept upon her, cursed her for the sorrow she has brought.

We are leaving for Salerno and the crags of Italy,

But Sicily’s soil is sacred to our comrades’ memory.

For their canopy forever is her flawless azure sky

And above them, wailing, mourning, is her foreign sea-gulls’ cry,

And her sunny sea is lapping at their gravestones as they lie

Where they gave their lives for freedom on the hills of Sicily.

posted by Mary Rose

"Godspeed"

 

...Beautiful and haughty, the great planes squatted on the level grass with their bold, blunt noses silhouetted against the brilliant African sunset and their majestic wings casting tremendous shadows across the airfield. Mechanics were still crawling over the big planes, calling to each other, doing last minute inspections. Trucks and jeeps moved about the airfield, lines of paratroopers marched to their planes, pilots stood in clumps talking of their plans... "Hand this charcoal around," said Schluch to Joe. The paratroopers smeared their faces with burnt cork as thoroughly as they could so that their faces would not show up pale and luminous in the dead of night. "This is it," said Dave, half to himself. Joe patted his shoulder in passing and Dave turned to meet his eye. Wordlessly they said goodbye, gripping each other's hard, strong, hand, trying to grin, but unable to speak. Who knew what fate awaited them in Sicily?

...At last, gaining speed, they started the takeoff, they were moving, running, hurtling down the runway, faster and faster until they lifted smoothly into the air and they were flying, gaining altitude and moving into formation. Hundreds of C-47's assembled over Tunisia that dark, windy night, and then the formation headed out for Sicily. Some paratroopers tried to relax, others stared blankly at nothing, clutching their reserve chutes. Dave twisted his sweaty hands, staring at the men across from him, their faces clear cut in a blurry haze, while old familiar prayers rattled in the back of his head...

"Thirty seconds," Joe said loudly, looking at his wristwatch. He was now to be the kicker, the last man out. Lieutenant Yates stood full in the door, clutching the sides of the plane. He would be the first to jump. Joe kept his eyes trained on the little red light by the door. Any second and he would give the signal to jump. Dave, a few men down the line, saw clearly every detail of Joe's good old familiar face in the light of a tracer bullet screaming by--the fine, thin features, the dark mustache, the clear blue eyes shining out of the smeary black soot...The light turned green. "Go!" Joe cried, thwacking the Lieutenant's shoulder, and with the undaunted cry "Geronimo!" the officer leapt into the darkness...

posted by Mary Rose

Artful Thursday: Before the Early Flight

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings....

Howdy, you fo'c'sle hands! It's almost November!!!!!!!!!! Nanowrimo is upon us, whether we would risk it or no. Tonight is the night when writers around the world write out the title page in their notebooks, head the first page with AMDG and write the long anticipated date: 11/1/13, at 11:55 PM. Tonight is the night when writers around the world cease their eager chatter as the clock strikes twelve and the world echoes with the sound of the first pencil strokes and the first clacking of keys of the newest novels. Tonight is the night!!!!!!

But other than that.....I have drawn a Fighter base swarming with men in Air Force Blue, as they all shout and talk loudly to keep their minds from what lies ahead or smoke their pipes and cigarettes reflectively thinking on that very same topic.

Royal Air Force Pilots again! (saith you)  However, there are eighteen ground crewmen. It was especial fun to make their faces all grey and the shadows of the Mustangs, and to try to give it all a cold effect. Did I succeed? Also the pilot lighting his fag with his lucifer was fun!

Besides, gifted was the poet who said: Never was so much owed by so many to so few, or something like that.

One of the great American fighter aces (in England) Robert Johnson, having flown two five hour sorties in a day:

"It was really quite a lot, when you stop and think that my breakfast was a piece of brown bread and peanut butter and a cup of really heavy stuff they called coffee. We came home, had a quick sandwich and a little shot of whiskey, and then back in the airplanes and off we'd go again. We'd come home and flop on our beds with our clothes on and never moved again until they waked us for another mission early the next morning."

Here's to the Fighter Pilots who flew two five hour sorties a day!

Here's to the Bomber crews who nearly froze in their B-17s!

Here's to the Mechanics who kept 'em flying!

The above is a bonus, the back of the picture.

There'll always be an England, and England shall be free, if England means as much to you as England means to me.

posted by Mary Rose

Me too!

Glory and trumpets! Pow! Zowie! Wham!

It's done...(they said, thinking of the movie)

Yesterday morning they woke up and alas! They were forced to admit that their ominous feelings were caused by more than their far-from-pleasant dreams about Denethor...Yikes! (they shrieked in terror and dismay) It is the last day of November! And there are a cruel hard number of pages left to go..... Now for it! (they said) Now for the last gasp! I can manage it. (they said) I must. (partly fictitious, they admitted. They didn't really say all of that.)

Well, all the livelong day yesterday I wrote and I wrote 'til my eyes bugged outer my head and I almost lost my wits but, at the last I finished at 11:48 P.M. I had plenty of time- even when my novel had been validated, there were nine long minutes left in the day!

(Balderdash. Humbug. Mary Rose finished ages ahead of me. But then she has written a novel before and is good at it.)

Here are several pi'tures from the day of of doom:

I didn't want to stay home from the Boys' concert and miss Joey on the bang-bangs and Jonny on the tuba. So I took along the phial of Galadriel (a light when all other lights go out) and wrote in the car. And during the concert I wrote by cell-phone light! Alas, alas! I was scribbling through the Variations on America by Charles Ives and hardly noticed and didn't once get to see Josiah do the suspended cymbal. (Sob, sob,They cried sadly) It really was sad. But it was a risk we all took.
 

Even after we got back, I had to be locked in a tower in Minas Tirith to finish. Or was it my garret?

Igh. I wrote like 7000 words in one day. And I went to bed and closed my eyes and saw...A Page...and my brain continued to generate vague text pertaining to the story...Aaahhh! Knock it off brain! (they commanded wrathfully)  And now at last the mad Adventure in NaNoland is over.  Look!

Well, it was a jolly time.

But now it's December and we have made a great discovery: There is, after all, more to life than writing. Painting birds, and practicing your Chopin, and maybe even doing Algebra or chores. Wow, I never knew that!

P.S. (they confided) The novel doesn't have a summary like MRK's. Not even a title. But I will say that, though the girl didn't get the pony or even the puppy, she did get a cow...

Posted by L.G.T.

I'm Done! Finis!

 At 11:04 PM, November 29th I finished my NANOWRIMO novel!!

Here's the summary:

Fillan, a peasant lad from the countryside of Adnohr, is only eight years old when he discovers that he wants to be a ranger. Scattered in huts all across the country, the king's rangers live to warn and protect their monarch from danger, whether from the wicked dwarves or any other evil enemy. Four years later, Fillan rides to the castle to begin his training to become a ranger. It is when he is eighteen years old that Fillan and Ulric, another ranger, hears news of a threatened attack from the evil dwarves to be put forth in only a fortnight. Now Fillan must ride alone through the night across the valley of Adnohr to warn King Elkard!

For your further information (is that a reference to a book? Sounds familiar), the novel is around 35,000 words long and 18 chapters! Below are pictures of me writing it in various places at different times:

November 1  The beginning: Shortly after midnight on November the first Lydia and I started writing our novels in bed. 

November 4 The continuation of writing:

This is me writing in the car at seven in the morning. Lydia and I wrote whenever we had a chance!

November 16 Here I demonstrate the meaning of the word 'lounge':

I write furiously!

November 20 Here I write of the characters hearing Boromir's horn as he is attacked by orcs:

Whoopsies! They were hearing the horn cry of Bertram as he is being chased by four foot high wolves(same type thing). The scenery is that of the hawk watching mountain.

November 25 Me puzzling out the next few chapters:

Again, I am on The Mountain. (Teetering precariously?)

 

 

Here I am writing The End on Tuesday night! It is so fun to write The End!

November 30: Me with the two notebooks of my novel:

That's the coat of arms of the King on the cover.

Writing novels is orfull fun! If you get bored, then you scribble pictures in the margins of your favorite Lord of the Rings characters (I have Aragorn on nearly every page in the second notebook). Next thing to write is the sequel.....I already have the first fifty pages written, as I was working on it before NaNoWriMo.

G'bye, folks: Farewell, Gandalf! Did I not say, "If you pass the doors of Moria, beware?" Alas that I spoke true! What hope have we without you?

posted by Mary Rose

Poetry Friday: Melloc Garelldore, the First King of Adnohr

In days when Dutchern ruled the lands

Of mountains and of lakeshore sands

He ruled the land both far and near

His courtiers had ne'er a fear

For Dalya grim was far away

And conquered in that happy day

So all was full of joy and peace

Save one good heart was in unease

That man was Melloc Garelldore

Who wished for battle and for war

He wished to hunt King Dutchern's deer

And longed for danger very near

At last the King called forth this man

And counseled how renown to gain

By going to the other land

Of grass and field and river sand

So Melloc and a small, brave band

Went o'er the mountains to a land

Of plain and hill and mountain tall

Far from King Dutchern's city wall

The men found wolves and creatures wild

Free roaming oe'r the plains in guile

They drove the wolves into a wood

Of mud and trees with ivy hood

They conquered evil dwarves which lay

Beneath the mountain night and day

The band of Melloc built a town

Beneath the very mountain down

And dwelt there with their wives and babes

Who'd come from Dutchern's mountain glades

They built a great huge city wall

With his great men both broad and tall

And built a castle out of stone

But the settler men had gained renown

From Dutchern's land came other men

Both bold and full of courage then

They brought their kinsfolk and their wives

Who wished to go elsewhere to thrive

The city filled and crowned as king

Sir Melloc with a gold crown ring

Their king wed sweet Marie the fair

So pale of face with golden hair

Their standard was the star and crest

Which still is worn on soldier breast

And so lived Melloc with his Queen

And ruled the land of Adnohr green.

 

So! That's the story of the first king of Adnohr and his queen. There are  two more poems to post next Friday, which are both in the NANOWRIMO story I'm writing. This poem is not in the NaNo story, it's going to go in the sequel to the NANO story.

Poems are handy in a NANO novel-if you need more words, you just make your characters sing a song or poem. And of course, I really like writing poetry about my story history.

Well, I guess that's all, though I could go on and on talking about history, like Gideon son of Melloc Garelldore and how he rescued the princess from the evil Dalyern king. Or if you don't like that, how about how Raen the fourteenth king to rule the mountain green set sail across the sea so deep and left behind his queen.... No, you don't get that poem today, maybe next time. Well, Goodbye-"Parting is such a sweet sorrow" began Mona, "Scram," Advised Rush, holding the door open.

Do you get that reference?

Posted by Mary Rose (Who else blathers about writing?)

PS You might get that reference if you read the book it came out of.

Writing and More Writing

Hello again! Finally a post about something other than Art!!

Other than the drawing a day challenge which we’re doing this November, we’re writing novels for NANOWRIMO. Lydia and I, that is. (Anna is already in the middle of a novel, so she didn’t want to start a new one for NANO.)

I am on page 15 of my NANO novel- only 5 more pages to write today! If I could possibly write them before midnight, then I can work on my other novel. Yes, I have two novels going at once: the NANO one is the one which comes before the other, if you remember from my other writing blather. It’s going to be jolly fun to finish the NANO thing, because the boy who is the main person, grows ten years throughout the whole story! (He grew two years in one chapter.) The story is already fun, because I’m making up the history of the entire surrounding countryside. The bad thing is that everyone in the historic tales has to have a name, so I’m having a hard time thinking of names to call people - Eladore, Tarkham, Melloc Garelldore (I think I will post a poem about him and the founding of Adnohr), Renelore and  Dutchern are some of them. (This is another poem I wrote about the history.)

About the other story = It is three hours before midnight and the whole city is awaiting attack from 1600 deadly dwarf archers and 200 men of the fierce land of Dalya. The Prince of the Land Beyond the Mountains has just brought aid of 100 soldiers and as many horsemen with spears.

Are you absolutely terrified? If you are, good, let’s go on with the blog post.

So, here is a picture of the above, (or maybe not exactly) and the description:

Prince Roland of the Land Beyond the Mountains bids the Princess Helena of Adnohr farewell while preparations for battle goes on in the background amongst the king’s archers and foot soldiers and also the prince’s foot soldiers who have come to aid Adnohr. Alas, they have to wait, as I'm too busy writing the NANO story.

Also, these folks at Phantom Moose are making videos of a person writing a NANO story: We watched the first video and it was really amusing! Go see.

Well, Goodbye, Folks, for I’ve got 5 pages of my NANO novel to write, so- Fare you well wherever you fare ‘til your eyries receive you at the journeys end.

posted by Mary Rose

Beyond the mountains tall and grim...

 Beyond the mountains tall and grim

Where dwelt great Melearn as the king

From this land came Ethelwald through the gorse

To warn of foe on foot and horse

For fast and swift down valleys wide

Came dark Dalyerns like a tide

Against them Adnohr is no match

 So bar the door and draw the latch

Our king sent orders to his men -

"Prepare for battle in the glen!"

Warriors led their steeds from stall

 And peasants flocked to city wall

 So all was readied before dark

 But no one came before the lark

 Which flew at very break of day

So guards prepared to watch and stay

King Leonard stood upon the wall

His cloak flowed from his figure tall

He looked upon the open plain

And cried,” The foe is come again!"

Indeed, on field and meadow fair

The Dalyern host was truly there

The city rung with shouts of war

The windows shut and also door

Forth from the city came our host

With Leonard on his steed foremost

With standard of the star and crest

Embellished on each tunic breast

The Dalyerns quaked, turned pale with fear,

On seeing the terrible army there

And tho they had the more of men

King Leonard’s warriors where truly grim

For they were filled with anger strong

Against the warring Dalyern throng

They fought with strength against their foes

To drive them out with hard sword blows

And Melearn's army came to aid

And fought with might in battle glade

The Dalyern gen'ral trembled again

When he saw the terrible mountain men

Steel against steel clashed long that day

But the Dalyern host was pale and grey

At last, at last King Leonard won

Beneath the brilliant setting sun

The enemy fled from our green lands

Across the river and its sands

And so we feasted long and long

As the minstrel sang his glorious song

"O great the day when Leonard ruled the land of Adnohr green,

With the gracious Lady Laura as our happy queen

We conquered fierce Dalya that day, with aid of Melearn King

 They come no more upon our land, with all their soldiers grim."

~~~

This is a poem which I intend to stick into my story,"The Disloyal Ranger."

It's about a battle long ago in the land Adnohr, which is where the story is set. I made up Adnohr and Dalya and the Land Beyond the Mountains (tall and grim.) I'm planning to write a novel for NANOWRIMO which is also set in Adnohr and I want to write more epic poetry in it 'cause it's awful fun!

Also, this is a picture I drew on Sunday afternoon. It's of The Fellowship post-Moria (otherwise Gandalf would be in it too). Legolas is pointing to Lothlorien, I think. See if you can guess which hobbit is which!

Another picture for this post is of The Unexpected Party, by Kateri, age five:

"Hello, my name is Kateri. I was reading The Hobbit to Jonathan and I drew this picture. Dwalin and Balin are the first dwarves who came into Bilbo's home. Bilbo is drinking ale. He is standing by his steps inside his hobbit hole. You can see his green round door with a brightly polished knob. On the table there are a seedcake and ale and plates and forks. The one in orange is Dwalin and he has a black beard. The one in brown is Balin and he has a white beard. You can see their hoods hanging up. That's how you can tell who is who - the dark green hood belongs to Dwalin and the red hood belongs to Balin. Bilbo got a dark green hood from I think Dwalin."

Kateri is reading The Hobbit to Jonathan, they got to the trolls already!

Well folks, that's all for today now, I guess it's lunch time now...

Posted by Mary Rose

Writing Committee

Writing is summat all of us are fond of.

So once upon a time, last year, may be, we started up a Writing Committee.  At meetings of this committee,  we all get into the same room and write on our latest stories. Also, sometimes we make speeches just for a lark. We also have had several times in which we did writing exercises that we made up.

The general procedure is to set a timer and have no talking 'til it beeps, because otherwise we just blither-blather about our stories.... "'What's up' said the Main Person, 'It's chapter three and I haven't even been assigned my Hopeless Task'..."-The characters behave out of order when we talk too much.

Here's the entire committee sitting in the meeting hall, writing:

I am working on a long short story called temporarily 'A and B', but I have a whole pack of writing projects, none of which seem to get very far.

Anna is writing a novel about someone who is called 'Person'. That is not his real name either, but the story and characters are shhhh- musn't tell... 

Mary Rose is writing  a just-begun story about rangers and dwarves and villains, etc.  She's just finished a 'first draft' of another novel that is 180 pages or something! Longer than anyone else has written. She is too sensible to try to write half a dozen at once.

When the committee started, Kateri was just being a disturbance asking "how do you spell cat?", but now she is a new 'esteemed member' and is on chapter three of her 'novel', a terribly funny story about Tom, Sam, and a talking Whooping Crane named Freddie.  It is quite remarkable! She's only five.

Apart from these meetings, we like writing here, there, and everywhere.

Here are Mary Rose and Kateri with their writin' on top of the mountain.

It is customary to drag along some story or other to the dirt mound during breakfasts there.

At least for Anna and Mary. On such occasions, I do not behave like a proper esteemed member, but gawk around for wood warblers and such.

And now, what is looming up on our little old committee is... NaNoWriMo!  We are just diddling around for the rest of October in the aforementioned stories, thinking up plots and the like, and then Mary Rose and I plan on participating in this write a novel in a month nonsense. 

Well, that's all for to-day, folks, and congratulate me- for I have done a post which is not about birds.

Posted by Lydia