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Bard
08-16-2008, 05:57 PM
A piece I ran across, I had posted at 'Authors Den'
years ago. It recieved a lot of views, so i figured I'd share it.



Seannachies Deathbed

Yea the deathbed, the seannachie now lay upon his
Few care to hear, yea, fewer care to see
He lay in the trace still burning lite
Of what he stood once as glimmering in desert nite
For the great seannachie now lay ready to die

Yea, the news rang throughout the region
They scattered upon hillside in colored clothed speckled array
Down from the highlands and yes all around
They came one and all, but yet none were found
Who would look on his face now sullen and gray

Seannachie cared not, yet...he did
Yet knew well mans heart all colored in dread
For the deathbed never a minstrel event
He cared not that none viewed him as now he lay
That his greatness should be remembered as it stood in his day.

He cared only to see one, as he lay there that day
A young lass he knew once, yes in youths bright day
A lass who had stroked his eyes into love
Left tears upon heartbeat he carried years in love
No word had come, that she knew of his plight.

Next day word came by messengers hand
Carried by a stallion that once carried he
Who now lay holding on, only to see, the lass of young,
Whose heart carried he, through warfare and battles amany he did see.
He now lay in her lap, as he did once in ecstasy

Three hours away, lay the lass in the way
He asked now his maiden to steady his hand
He asked her to fetch, some color for his face
So he'd greet her in color as he stood in that day
In her lap he lay nestled, like just yesterday

The maiden did honor, a craft known long of old
To allow face to live in color, when dark gray is drawn
He now painted spectacle, but laying as man
The seannachie awaited his lass, yes his only love, to take his hand

When the lass did arrive, in haste yet to late
She found seannachie a sitting, sword across lap
His colors of robe draped across his bent back
His clutched fist held scrapped parchment, fresh ink betraying when scribed
Said only this, I sit for the spectators, but for eternity, my head shall rest nestled in your lap.

Rodney Evan Bohen

ravenblanc
08-19-2008, 07:13 AM
Beautiful..poignant.Archaic in style as is fitting for the Seannachie,yet timeless in it's truth.Dank deathbed atmosphere lies heavy in the beginning but is somehow banished by the feeling of light entering this place.Even in his death a new story unfolds...and you can almost hear it being retold again and again..truly Bardlike..sensitive and gently touching..memorable...perhaps immortal.

I like it even if it did make my keyboard go blurry.