I don't remember why I started writing this, but it took off on its own and ended up here.  It wanted a different ending, but I convinced it to end how I wanted.

The Ways of the Wyrm
            by Stick

I worried constantly.
It was only a matter of time
Before another came to claim
That which I claimed as mine.
They would be fools
To face one such as I,
But fools there were in plenty
Who felt the need to try.

Their many moldering corpses
Now littered my front step
For I heard rumors of their coming
Long before they leapt
Out into my parlor
Their challenge to cry forth
In dialects of the East,
Or from the frigid North.

I let their bodies lie there
To finish baking in the sun
As a warning to any others
That it would be wiser to turn and run.
The putrid, festering bodies
Lent a bouquet to the air
That pleased me in a subtle way
Knowing they were there.

Now I had been worrying
For several days on end
I could sense a disturbance--
An annoying, mocking trend.
It was a movement in the air,
A faint unfamiliar scent,
On the edge of my senses,
Against which I could not vent.

It disturbed me in my waking hours,
And left me restless in my sleep.
I was constantly pacing round
The halls of my vast keep.
I was searching for I knew not what,
Perhaps some shadow in the dark.
But my vigilance was fruitless
My view stayed bare and stark.

 I knew someone was coming,
Whether hero, thief, or mage
No worry--My flame had claimed many such
From every clime and age.
They would fall to my mighty breath
Or to my talons sharp,
And only rumors would return,
From some bardic harp.

I heard a noise across the pass
That led into my vale.
I smelled the odor as a camp was made
Down in the river dale.
I was surprised as I realized
That this one had come alone.
Something none had done before
Of those made of flesh and bone.

My curiosity was piqued,
For this thief didn’t fit the mold,
So I determined to speak to them
To learn why they were so bold.
 I silently left my cloistered den,
The sky was black as ink,
And soared upward on the zephyr wind
As the sun stood upon the brink.

A wispy tendril of smoke
Pointed to the brazen camp,
Which lay unhidden on the mossy banks
Amidst the dew and damp.
As silent as a falling leaf,
I floated down the air,
Until I settled on a rock
Overlooking what was there.

Now news came to me,
From senses yet unused,
A revelation to help identify
My invader from the mews.
A woman!
And one of ancient years!
But the camp I saw was well kept,
Bereft of the scent of fear. 

As I sat upon the rock,

Looking over the doomed repose,

The object of my search emerged

And seeing me, she froze.

She, however, did not act

Like others I had met.

She did not blanch before my gaze,

Her eyes ablaze and set.

 

With amazement I heard her speak

A name I thought none knew.

MY NAME! Long hidden,

Concealed from human view.

“Azrondial, you old Wyrm,

Long have I sought this place,

For I come to bring your doom,

And converse face to face.”

 

“I seal your breath, and freeze your bones,

With the power of your name.

Your claws are stilled, your eyes are blind,

Your muscles I declaim.

With the power of a White Mage,

I seal you with my curse,

Be still as stone upon that hill

While your evils I rehearse.”

 

“Of all those souls you have killed

Only one matters to me.

You killed my son, while he was young,

In a village by the sea.

You burned the town, that my folk called home.

Leaving me all alone,

And left me to seek, through all the world,

For a vengeance of my own.”

 

“Long I sought to find the power

I needed to bring you down.

Years of searching through musty tombs

‘Til at last the name was found.

Yet still I needed the knowledge

To wield your name with force,

So I set out to the tower of Ar

Where the mages set their course.”

 

“Many long years I studied there

And learnt the wizard’s ways.

Until, at last, my master proclaimed

The end of my apprentice days.

And now you’re here, on that hill of stone,

And stone your body shall be,

And there you’ll sit ‘til the world ends

For all the world to see.”

 

She left him then, and went her way,

Lighter than when she had come.

She had found the peace so long sought,

And taken her vengeance in sum.

And for many long years, the valley was shunned

For none knew the deed she had done,

And I weathered away in the wind and the rain

Sitting under the setting sun.

 

 

 

 

The worst Happiest day of her life

Last night, we held the wedding reception for my oldest daughter and her new husband. It was a comedy of errors on our part, brought on by extenuating circumstances, which could have ended up much worse than it did, though it was bad enough as it was.
First, we were a little confused as to when she wanted this to start. She told one group 5 pm, and on her facebook invitation, she put 6:30. Then, on the invitations, (which we did not get), she said 6 pm. We finally got everything ready at 6:30. :0(
Second, my wife went through two emergency surgeries last weekend (just after the wedding), so she was not able to do everything she would have normally been able to do.
Third, eveyone underestimated the time it would take to do everything that needed to be done. One example-- the wedding cake did not get finished until an hour after the reception started. Nobody's fault, it just took longer due to little things.
Then, the groom found out that he had tforgotten his shirt. The first guests showed up while he was still gone to retrieve it.
In spite of all of this, it turned out fine. Everything was in place by the end of the reception, and everyone who came seemed to enjoy themselves--except the bride. Well maybe by the end. At leats she will never forget it. She might even forgive us eventually.

Keep smiling. Hang in there. Stick.

What's in your Pocket?

My sister Delirious, who blogs on Life on a Limb, posted this idea, so I thought I would send it along.  In my pocket:
Keys to my classroom
Keys to my vehicle
chapstick
cell phone
wallet
change
and a pocket knife.
I usually carry at least one set of keys, but sometimes two because of my school keys.  The chapstick depends on the time of year, since I don't always need or use it.  The cell phone seems to have become a necessity, especially since we got rid of our house phone.  However, the one thing I almost always have in my pocket is a pocketknife.  I have carried at least one since I was around eight years old.  The way I was raised, it was something you just did.  Today's kids may miss out on this.  They can't carry a knife to school, because the fed has decided that they aren't responsible enough to do so.  They will stab someone with that little 2 inch knife blade.  Forget the fact that if a kid is going to stab someone with a knife, they don't care if it is against the rules, and they won't use a little 2 inch blade.  While it may be true that a kid could use a knife like this in a crime of opportunity on the spur of the moment, it never really happened in my 12 years of public school.  I hope the time comes when my kids, grandkids, or their kids can once again know the pleasure of carrying a small knife in their pocket.  You never know when you might need it, and there is no prouder 9 year old, than the one who pulls out HIS knife for dad to use.

So, what's in your pocket?  Stick.

A Man A Plan....A Wedding?

We are going shopping for a wedding dress tomorrow for the upcoming wedding of our oldest daughter.  We were supposed to go this afternoon,but she has decided that theyncannot be seperated for any length of time at all, if she can help it.  Not.  At.  All.  She went shopping for a new bra tonight, and he had to go.  I don't know what shopping for a dress is going to be like.  Whatever happened to the groom not seeing the bride in her dress before the wedding?  We don't believe in the bad luck part of it, but realistically neither he nor I will have any say it what dress she ultimately picks.  I'm just the chaffeur and money man, he'll just be ere to hold her hand I guess.  We'll get through this, and so will she.  Then we'll  have 2 down with 2 to go.

Hang in there.  Keep smiling.  Stick.

Catching Up

The tree is down to just the main trunk. It still doesn't want to die, and keeps putting out new branches. We want to take it down an end table height and put a chess/checkerboard on top of it. Next summer we want to create a small patio out front to include this area. My third daughter traded her F150 for a new car, a Subaru Legacy. My oldest daughter is engaged to be married in November. Had a great summer vacation, and visited with most of my family. Found out I have fractures in my lower back at L4-L5. Trying to lose weight and am down 10 pounds. Wrote a new poem:
THE HUNTING TRIP

I thought I'd go a-huntin'
Out past Grandpa's old field
To see what I could fetch us
Before the morning bells all pealed.

I staggered out of bed
At a quarter past four,
Stubbed my toe on the table,
And almost fell to the floor.

I limped into the kitchen,
And pulled on my socks and shoes,
Rubbed the sleep from my eyes,
And massaged my brand-new bruise.

A good breakfast was in order
To prepare me for the day,
So eggs and bacon and a tater
Were soon on the way.

I thought some pan biscuits
And some milk would go down fine,
So I sleepily scratched some up,
And still had loads of time.

But in my distraction,
The spuds and bacon both burned black
Yet somehow the eggs
Remained runny, raw, and slack.

The biscuits were crisp and brown
And looked sure to delight,
But I'd used talc instead of soda,
So the taste just wasn't right.

I needed a tall, cold drink
To wash that biscuit down,
So grabbed a cup from the cupboard
With my face fixed in a frown.

I poured a tall glass of milk
Skimmin' off the heavy cream,
But the milk had turned to sour
And I thought that I would scream.

I grabbed my shotgun off the wall
And headed for the door
Then tripped on the curled up rug
Layin'n on the floor.

As the clock on the mantle
Started chimin' out the hour
I put up the gun in exasperation
And headed for the shower.

It was plain to me that huntin'
This mornin' wasn't meant to be,
And that I'd better call it off,
Or see the end of me!

Spring cleaning

My third daughter is out of town, but her Ford f-150 is not. So, while she is gone, I took the opportunity to "borrow" it. I loaded up a big load of garbage and took it to the dump, including someone's Christmas tree that the wind delivered to our driveway. Then, I went and washed her truck for her. (I later found out she wanted it muddy. :0(. ) When I got back, my wife had been out raking the yard, so I cleaned up the pile. As I was looking at the yard, I saw that our big garbage tree out front had dropped its normal compliment of limbs all over the place. We have been threatening to take this tree down for a couple of years now, so I started taking off limbs. An hour later, some of the tree was down, but so was I. I was beat. I'm sure I'll eventually get it done, but for now, it can stay where it is.

Kick your feet up, and relax. Take are. Stick.

I'm Be-friended and Be-fuddled

Facebook has ruined my blogging life. It's true. Although I have never been as faithful of a blogger as many people I know, I would still blog on a steady basis. Now, if I have somethingo say, I tend to Facebook it. It's not that I think that Facebook is a better forum for my thoughts, it just seems to be easier. However it also doesn't seem as permanent. Maybe that is why I do it. Maybe blogging feels like I really mean what I write, while Facebook is just a passing comment that isn't as important. I think Facebook is for that instant contact with someone. It is the quick gratification that our society wants anymore. Instant oatmeal, cooked in a microwave. That's what Facebook is, instant oatmeal for the Blogging soul. I'm not worried about offending any of my Facebook friends with this post. They are all over there, near the microwave, waiting for their oatmeal.

Have a great day. Stick.