avalon
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avalon
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| the mythos |
the most complex and detailed online game in existence
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ripples spreading |
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From
Manguel and Guadalupi's 'Dictionary of Imaginary Places' (Bloomsbury 1999):
<< AVALON, a beautiful lake and rock island, surrounded by deep meadows with
orchard lawns and wooded hollows, where no wind blows and where hail, rain and
snow have never been known to fall. On the island is a small church built by
Joseph of Arimathea; the rest of Avalon is inhabited by a race of women who
know all the magic in the whole world.
A great wonder happened in this place. When King Arthur of CAMELOT was led here
by the enchanter Merlin a hand reached out of the water and offered him the
sword Excalibur which was to serve him so well during his life. It is said that
the hand in the water belonged to the Lady of the Lake.
Arthur, having received the sword in Avalon, was required to return it here
at the end of his life. He asked Sir Bedivere to throw it back into the lake;
the hand appeared again, caught the sword and brandished it before disappearing.
So it was to Avalon that King Arthur returned to die, and from here he was borne
by four queens - Morgan le Fay, the Lady of the Lake, the Queen of Northgales
and the Queen of the Wastelands - on his last voyage.
(Anonymous, La Mort le Roi Artu, 13th cen. AD; Sir Thomas Malory, Le Morte
Darthur; London, 1485; Alfred, Lord Tennyson, The Idylls of the King, London,
1842-85)>>
Poem
for Raychel
Crystal rune stones brim your eyes
casting visions of a clearing in our dark forest.
I see you sweeping through the moss and ferns
toward a lake of mirrored sky, darkly shimmering.
Tight curled spring growth already swelling the autumn
branches.
There is a long cold winter ahead, street lit mornings, early
nights.
You are battening down the hatches of your dreamboat,
your children safely stowed away in your warm galley.
Hauling in your nets and sails ready for storms and ice.
A flotilla of friends will accompany your voyage.
Perched in the crow's nest, we who love you.
Spy glass to one eye keeping watch.
Sonar echoes penetrate the deep waters.
Womb like resonance, endless clear horizon,
gentle curve of the earth blessed be.
Crying man over board, we throw him a lifeline,
wrap him in warm blankets, offer tea and sympathy.
Your sailing ship breaches the waves, carved from broad
ancient oaks
Weeping willow arches ready to leaf at the first glimpse of
watery sunshine.
Stirring in the depths your lovely fingers extend
green tendrils and fabulous blossom.
Tender shoots, strong roots in good earth.
Composted blood and bone of our mothers.
Strong arms and hearts of our fantasy fathers.
Woman nurtured by her good nature.
Spirit seeker, bold adventurer, keeper of secrets.
Your tears sustain new life until it is viable.
It will survive perennially while you my friend
dance naked under your gown of stars.
Twirling in the warm rain wearing lipstick and gypsy jewellery.
Clicking your fingers and smiling at the insides of your eyelids,
your face turned up to the heavens, bathed in sky light,
blowing kisses at the moon and raspberries at the sun.
Embracing life and all it has to give you.
Take it, you give so much in return my sweet.
Spin spring new-born, dream your dreams.
Look forward to a wonderful summer.
Hot sultry nights with the sheets hurled off.
Still lace hanging in the dark oblong of your window,
your smiling Goddess on the sill
ready to greet dawn's lemon light.
May you sleep peacefully in your bed
surrounded by half read novels, a pot of marigolds.
Paintbrushes in a jam jar on the mantelpiece
your canvas primed and ready to submit to your passions.
I wish you all the time in the world.
I wish you all you wish yourself.
May your children bring you joy and comfort.
May serenity reign in your household.
Your life companion will smile upon you,
show you unconditional love, compassion, respect.
Bask in your radiant presence,
your warmth, your beauty and your soul's essence,
Leaving you free in spirit and light hearted
as your sad brown eyes shine again.
I look forward to these days ahead.
Until then come shelter here under my wing.
Let me tell you how wonderful you are.
Let your banshee screech herself hoarse
then lie silent in her cove.
Annie Milner
Ah,
Avalon I knew you well. Exile has been long and hard - but
to return only to die - what solace is there in that?
Cruel Avalon whose lush fertility depends on the blood and
bone of the males she exiles. (She probably adds a little
fishmeal too from that lake.)
Margaret Penfold
i
stAnd here, UnSeen, quiet, reFlekting on whAt is and whAt
wAS.
twisted stumps of hAwthorn & ALder,
bLAcKened ruINs.
deseRtion.
(Have ALl fled back in2 the realms of Faery?)
ogReless.
empTy-ness.
eternAL & AimLess.
i watch the crAnes fly above your algal lakes -no nesTing
here.
time. time. time. haVe i slept so long?
wheRe now yoUr boAts?
bitTeRsweet mAids?
Queen of tHe North GAels...
Queen of tHe Waste LAnds...
where now your bloody charge?
(has he fled me Again?......ha!)
the wind thru the reedmAce whispeRs;
"he sleeps...he sleeps..."
bah!
(it wAs ever ThuS.
he would sleep...whiLSt others would pLAy in thAt gArden [of
which lesser bARds sAng]...including mySelf....)
grey sKies. aAd oh So Cold...yet i ReMembeR yoUr waRmth
AvALon...
yoUr AbstrAct beauty...
yoUr sense of...beLongIng? -of peAce?
now! meRe solitude suRRounded by MeMory & dAnk wAters.
long goNe, long AbAndoNed.
back in2 tALes & fAbLes.
& i?????????
ghost ouT of TiMe?
yoU thoUght me deAd at CamLAn.....nah.
i surviVed - thouGh mAngled.
brAnch of ALder creAks...muRmers..
Mordred.
Mor-Dred
Mur-Dred
More DreAd.
Truly DreAD.
& now....sunsEt.
i depArt as One with shAdow bloom & pools.
As yoU did LonG Ago.
enoUgh.
twiSted avALon. broKen ideALs.
fAreWell.
Loki
Ripples
spreading from the blade-tip.
The king's breath ragged
among the reeds.
Ruin on the field:
incontinent armour spewing
stout ichor into the soil.
The barge drifts
with its burden: the helmet
lifted and set aside;
the raw hands
in smeared gauntlets
folded over the wound.
Dominic Fox
The
mythos is as you find it: chauvinistic
heralds, their spurs snagging in damp bracken,
yomping from chapel to tourney; roaring
metal-heads clashing amid pennants. Perfidy
reversed through jeopardy. Names that are supposed
to mean something: beaux-maines, Belvedere.
An order not sustained and not brought down
by unruly interventions - Merlin, le Fay -
so much as by its own propensity
for needless questing; as if each hard-won
consolidation were the pretext for another
narrative fling: a voiding of premises
as of horses, a scrambling to its feet
to meet upright the panting enemy.
Dominic Fox
from
'Vagrants'
Thread me
through your eye of the storm.
Lace me through your days
Butter me into your skin
hide me in your corners.
just let me be
and hold me in exile.
I must forget those
i left behind
in the rhythms of my mind.
Roll me in the lime of
kitchen middens
so that i am
coated
with the new land.
Remember me in your hollow of gums
mark me down with sap,
-chrystallise me
so i can continue to dream
even in death.
i want to be on
terra firma
but you keep bringing me to the sea.
Do you think that way my sins
might wash away?
Do you think that way
i may be happy someday?
by Bettina Richter
late
in Avalon
Thru the times and the ages,
hear my call,
thru past and beyond the present,
I hear your call.
come to take me and I take thee,
oh but only
it's ancient
call, a reunion or a pact
laced with tears and onion,
we've come thus far with the call.
thru the ages thru the past,
we stood
hand-in-hand in Avalon,
we stood there last.
-petja
"why owe a truth"
