I am in Love. I have been for quite some time, but it's probably not what you think. I love words. To be more specific, I love the English language. To my mind, English was a beautiful language even before words from other languages were 'adopted' into it.
The simplest words of today's English are most likely those derived from the original Anglo-Saxon words which made up the earliest form of English. In my opinion, that earliest form was the most beautiful, for whatever there was not a word, a phrase was used, giving it its wonderful, poetic quality.
I have set my own rules for the words used in this collection of poems. I have used only modern forms of Anglo-Saxon words in the first poems. As you will see, Anglo-Saxon English words and their modern forms adequately convey the thoughts behind my 'wordcraft.' Also included in these poems, is the generous use of alliteration (sometimes called initial rhyme), a common characteristic of early English literature.
Though not my original intention, the language of the poems in this section, moves forward in time, 'graduating' to Middle English words, and on to modern English. This entire collection shows a sort of evolution, or at least a growth of the English tongue.
I affectionately call this collection "My Tongue," as tongue is the Anglo saxon word for language. So get a feel for my tongue, and perhaps you too, will fall in love!
MY TONGUE 14 Nov 1993
Only Angle words are offered
here, written by my hand.
Uttered early by thegns and crofters
in that far off Angle Land.
The salt of this tongue brought across
great waves of rolling waters
were the gilded words of gainly Goths
before they were spoken by any others.
No words as worthy come to mind:
not Norman, Arabic, Roman or Greek
As the words of King Alfred's time *
Tho others loathe to speak.
The building up from other tongues
was written by many a hand
that richer words can now be sung.
My tongue is older than my land.
*Alfred the Great lived from 849 - 899 A.D. His reign was from 871 - 899 A.D.
WORDCRAEFT 16 Nov 1993
It runs in my blood
it melts in my mouth.
It's as much to my life
as a drink in a drouth.
I take down the words
I hear from my soul.
I weave the words well
into cloth that is whole.
The sough* of the wind soft murmuring
blows into my verse
a wisp of my wit
for better or worse.
No limp or lame lines
I want them to ring!
Even women in weed* black clothes of mourning
will hear them sing.
Words lapping like waves
when you hear them said
My wordcraft* will live poetry
long after I'm dead.
TO A SAXON CHIEF 11 Oct 1994
The Saxon Chief
a sight to behold
leading his men
big, brave and bold.
Blessings from Woden
god of war
helped the chief
take the Celtic tor.
Beneath his helmet
flows hair of red.
He's freckl'd of face
like those he led.
Augustine's fortelling,
"The Welsh will perish
for refusing peace."
fulfilled with relish.
Off with breastplates
and scaly mail.
The feast is set
with meat and ale.
To cheer the chief
I lift my cup.
The battle done
we'll drink and sup.
UNDER GOD'S EYE 22 Nov 1993
A walk in the wood
does my soul good.
The sun on my cheek
makes me feel meek.
Under God's eye
He draws me nigh
when all around me
His world I can see.
As I walk by the beck
I feel a mere speck
as a gnat on the nose -
of God - I suppose.
A walk in the rain
sets off in my brain
"All I am and own
comes from God alone."
There are two more poems that belong in this small collection, but you will not find them here. DROUGHT and THE GARDEN can be found in the respective sections of Nature and Weather (Row 6) and The Garden (Row 7). When you read them, note their simple words and structure.
