I have written quite a lot of poetry over the recent years and most of it to date has been free verse. As of late, I have been putting my energy into practising structured poetry and I want to share with you a poem I have been working on. This poem is not finished as some parts feel a tad awkward to me but this is a small part of the tale of The Lady and Lord of the Vale of Shadows. (After the events that this poem describes, the North of the Vale of Shadows was named The Valley Of Whispering White). In my language Erorain, the name Memeran can be translated as either ‘child of magic’ or ‘instrument of magic’. From merain ‘white magic’, memetor ‘child’, memin ‘instrument’.
The Tree-man and Memeran the Gleaming
To the moon singing anew
Atop a hill dancing there
As stars glistening did pursue
Maiden fairest, never withering.
Watching afar, depart did despair
Lingering in the valley dew
His raiment white shimmering rare,
His heart, beauty’s voice bewildering.
Singing words of ancient tongue,
Smiling when hearing it cast
The melody joined by harp strung
Together amid flowers glistening,
The Tree-man, sorrowless at last.
Their tune was to be heard among
The birds and all the valley vast
As they spent their evenings listening.
Channeling music of the unseen
Even in the darkness of night
Their creations could be ever seen
Now the valley of white glimmering
A perfect reflection of the sky bright
The atmosphere a cloudless serene,
This would become the valley’s light
In the days and nights of splintering.
But that was an age ago
And now the valley is mournful,
Silent of all but their woe
With the darkness lingering.
Their white maiden thoughtful
Lost with their hope, though
Awaiting her return, so wishful;
To again hear her whispering.
Years, Tree-man spent roaming
Yearning for something to console.
To mysterious lands of gloaming
Trying to fill his heart hurting.
Without the rest of his soul
His journey now slowing,
Returning with great toll
To the valley disconcerting.
Caressing the soil, he spoke
‘Here, flowers likened to clouds
Whisper to me and remind me
Of the way you would sway lithe
Between the white ash trees.
I feel that you still linger here
Among the blossoms and to me,
You are more fair than ever’.
He heard a whisper alight
In the cool breeze;
‘Come home to me, my light’
So the tree-man lay nesting
With the blossoms and trees
While remembering that night,
Settled and feeling at ease
He succumbed, finally resting.
The valley folk looked to the sky
And knew their Lord and Lady Vale
Were glinting among the stars nigh.
Hope had sparked that evening
Among the blossoms pale
And all their spirits were high.
And ‘tis only a small part of the tale
Of the Tree-man and Memeran the gleaming.
Vâr metormen, ven atathinaur a meina !
May the stars carry you my friend !