Ah, crap. I have done it now

So, sure, I have a background in art.  I get it, and it was only natural that eventually I would feel the call to contribute artistically.  I have done some songs, which have been fun, but my first artistic love has always been poetry.  So I thought maybe I could contribute to scroll work.  I mean maybe there is some call for wordsmiths?  It turns out there is A LOT because scribes and illuminators don’t always like coming up with the words, too.   I guess just like how I don’t want to MAKE the scrolls, eh?

With that thought in my head, I reach out to my dear friend Christiana (who might be a long lost twin, the jury is still out).  Her immediate response is to put me in touch with Mistress Camille, who thankfully recognized that while doing the super fancy Laurel Scroll that Christiana thought would be JUST AWESOME, maybe giving the newbie wordsmith something smaller would be more appropriate and not cause him to freeze.

Assignment #1:

Saige O’Rose, an AOA granted by Edward III and Thyra II, at the Barony of Ruantallan at Tir Mara`s Rattan and A&S Championships.  11/29/2014
Text as submitted:
The best food comes from Garden grows
So pick Ye Sage ye herbs ye thyme
But watch ye out for the sting of rose
For you pluck once but she stabs nine
But fear ye not good gentles lo
The bloom outshines the bitter thorn
Come ye with cloth to mend or sew
And watch the brilliant Garment born

Kneal ye now for king and queen
For words of you reach those who know
That service keeps alive the dream
And Rise as Lady Saige O’Rose

Given this day, blah blah blah.   November 29th is the feast day of the Irish Saint Brendan of Birr, so that’s a a thing

I have to admit, this one just came to me.  I had just submitted the text for a QoC for Lady Rose Copper Steel, and there is quite a bit of similarity between the two works.
For whence the battle rages, and the fighters tally hard
Tis relief to know that cooler springs await them on the sides
For shields raised high and swords at guard
We toil long in bitter heat no mortal man abides
The blacksmith hammers steel throughout the morning into day
But when it’s time for supper, the insistent voice inside
Calls out “Have you eaten, fool” and all around obey
She’s made enough, you see, to feast the countryside
With goblets of copper, and plates high stacked
No man nor God leaves without snacks
Lemon cookies, and meat so tender
There are no crumbs in her provender
What more could be said in verse or prose,
Than to say that Courtesy, thy name is Rose.
So similar names, similar people…. similar poems, it’s what happens.

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