SHIRE OF PANTHERVALE ARTS AND SCIENCES

The poems presented here for our enjoyment, are by Dominvs Tiberivs Ivlivs Rvfvs.

Sonnet for Dark Armor

(Heavy List)

Gavin’s kiss is sharp, bladed, one of steel
with hardened lips and a shaft of swordly spring
blade across the back. Pain is need made real:
the song of touch is a tune fighters sing.
His ears are large, but not overly so
and hard to view beneath his grill’d dark helm.
I see through his chainmail to what’s below,
the strongest stinging arms in Eastern Realm.
Repeated blows do make me love and sore
and purple puckers mark on me plushly bright.
I take his kisses through the day, and more
the memory of touches through my night.
Gavin’s blows are mine to catch and gain
the blossom bruises of my love-got pain.

Vivant: A Ballade for the Society

My friends, most days, think it quite bizarre
to make clothes, camp in the rain,
travel to Stonemarche, Freehold, places far
and foreign, places called Concord by the mundane.
We call them Baronies, Shires, noble cities on glittering plains.
A waste of time, a waste of money it might seem
when I try to explain the reason, the issue, the main
idea. With the Society, maybe then I will Dream.

Take Honor, an idea as brilliant and edged as a star:
Is it the Great Northern Army, the East King's reign?
Is Honor a favor, strung from a belt? A device seen from afar?
Or is it something more, actions seen again and again
like loaner garb, gold key, a soft shoulder in times of pain?
The mundane world is fast, busy, sometimes unforgivingly mean.
Honor is the bond of outsiders together, a trust we gain.
When we meet, we share, and maybe then we will Dream.
Honor is a virtue not limited to King and Bard,
but one of each gentle, both gilded and plain
to live. With it, each of us is a lady, each one a lord.
Romans, Celts, French and the rest, here, we're the same.
We know that chivalry is a verb, virtue is a flame
alive when we fight, make garb, carve butter from cream
and make service where it is needed, seeking service over fame.
Working together, maybe then we will Dream.
By right of arms kings find their reign
and act as an example of dignity, honor, and the same
values of history. It might, to the mundane, seem
quaint and trite, but stand strong. Maybe then we will Dream.

Sestina for Brion at Crown Tourney

Gather all ye gentles, quick and idle
here the story of victory and glory, blades fast
and honor defended, of knights and armour
poles and shields. Brion took the Tourney field, sword
held high, to win for his bride, an Eastern Throne.
Stalwart, steady, he marched ever forward, without pause.

Warriors came, one by one, no pause
between them, no time for Brion to be idle
in his quest. He was focused on a throne
for Anna. Brion stood strong, shield defending and standing fast
against the axes, poles, the serpent strikes of thirsty swords.
A pillar on the field, Brion stood in his regal armour.

The Tourney was down to Three, no armour
for those defeated. For Brion, Thorvald, and Lucan, no pause
to rest or recover strength. Honor called to lift a sword
and Brion answered. Thorvald was a bear, no idle
shield would defeat him. Brion struck accurately and fast
and took another right step toward the throne.

Victory was quick, but Brion didn't yet have the throne.
Lucan stood, resplendant in Byzantine armour.
The crowded gentles cheered, the cry went fast
throughout the spectators. Then a hush, a pause
fell over the ladies and the lords. Cheers went idle
as Lucan, radiant, drew his sword.

Anna watched, Honor in an arm and a sword,
her love, one fight from a throne.
Brion and Lucan, blow for blow, never idle
with shield or strike and gleaming armour.
There was no relenting in their martial dance, no pause.
Matched as they were, it would be cast by whom could be fast.

Lucan struck high, but Brion's skill was too fast.
First to the leg, then body, Brion danced with his sword
and found the spot as Lucan's shield did pause
and not block the blow that was royally thrown.

Victory secure, Brion etched the sunlight with his armour
and stood proud. Tourney won, Honor's idol.

He earned a throne with shield and armour.
Never idle, his was the fastest blow.
Without pause, he must reign in honor what was won with sword.

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Page updated on June 25, 2008.