“W..no! I don’t- I don’t perform! I don’t have anything prepared! I’m not an Ach-“
But eager hooves shoved the tremulous Kiokote stagehand out into the spotlight, and he had nowhere to run.
“Erm. Hi. Um. I’m. I’m Under the Rose, and… hooooo boy, keep it together, you’re an audience. Um. I’m supposed to tell you that there’s been some technical difficulties with our star performer- pay no attention to the mournful sand dog howls, please- and they sent me out to… entertain you…”
“Um. I’m not a very good entertainer. Sorry. Maybe I can… recite some poems? I know some of those. Yeah. I’ll do that for you. Here goes.”
Last edited by Scaramouche Fandango on Thu Nov 28, 2024 7:14 pm, edited 5 times in total. word count: 123
You came to me on gilded knee,
Bowing deep and courteously.
Golden boughs topped regal brows,
You spoke with the heat that passion allows.
But soon you'd left me for another;
I never thought you'd leave like summer.
With dying leaves you did return,
As if you hadn't left me spurned.
The nights were colder, you seemed older,
Or maybe just complex and bolder.
My ardor tempered with harvest moon's pall,
I took you in just like the fall.
You swore to me with frosted breath
And while the trees did feign their death
We lay conjoined 'midst gentle flakes-
But your heart wanders, my heart breaks
I hadn't much faith left to splinter,
I just assumed you'd stay the winter.
But spring has come with gentle rains,
And each new leaf relieves my pains.
The cycle has begun anew,
And life blooms forth, even from you.
For spring's the season of rebirth,
And your heartless body feeds the earth.
“Ok, so maybe it wasn’t really about love. It got kinda dark there, but at least he was good for SOMETHING, right? Anyways, this next one’s about things not always being as they seem. It’s also about fish.”
They say that once you were a carp,
Drab and grey and blunt, not sharp.
Deep in waters thick with murk,
And mud eroded off yon scarp.
But somehow through luck or work,
Nature acted on a quirk-
Your body, dense as formless clay,
Took gold and silver as a perk.
Your variation locked away,
Once uncovered, bright as day.
How quick you changed- was it wise?
From former form so far astray.
It's true you'd never recognize,
But bring delight to many eyes;
Your history abandoned hence,
You carp in shining gold disguise.
“I hoped you like that one. Oh! How about some Totoma poems? Well, songs. I learned these at the winter market a few years back, and they’re pretty fun, I think. The first one- well, the way she explained it, the Totoma, I mean- she said it’s supposed to be sung with a group. Everybody sings the introduction and first verse, and shouts the dishes together- but the idea is that you pass the song along. And if you’d like to participate, what you do is you shout the name of the dish, and it’s repeated each time, adding the next dish. So like, the first one is frog legs, and so at the end of that verse, we shout “Frog! Legs!” And then the second verse, that one’s berry hash, so we go “Berry hash! Frog! Legs!” and so on and so forth. So it should be pretty easy to pick up. The good news is that the only criteria to make this song good is that we’re really loud, so… please? Please yell with me?”
The summer leaves are dead and gone,
The fall has faded everlong,
And as we huddle afore the spring,
Of the winter feast we'll sing!
Seven nights and seven days,
Eating, drinking, merry ways!
All the courses, taste each one,
Feasting is the winter's fun!
The first course's not like any other,
Frog legs dipped in honey sweet.
Frog legs are a tasty treat,
And so I'll pass it to my mother!
Frog! Legs!
The second course is not a bother,
Berries hashed with fallen pears.
A fruity bite so very fair,
And so I'll pass it to my father!
Berry hash! Frog! Legs!
The third course sets my tongue a-blister,
Hot, hot peppers- take a slice.
I can't take it! Too much spice!
And so I'll pass it to my sister!
Hot peppers! Berry hash! Frog! Legs!
The fourth course isn't like another,
Two kinds of ducks and goose with herbs.
Waterfowl are delicious birds!
And so I'll pass it to my brother!
Duck duck goose! Hot peppers! Berry hash! Frog! Legs!
The fifth course now is really buzzin',
Crunchy salted beetle wings.
Beetles are such tasty things!
And so I'll pass it to my cousin!
The sixth course's seasoning is danger,
A haunch of boar chased down together.
Boar hunting's perilous in this weather,
And so I'll pass it to a stranger!
Haunch of boar! Beetle wings! Duck duck goose! Hot peppers! Berry hash! Frog! Legs!
The seventh course is our feast's end,
A cup of cheer passed kin to kin.
We share the warming drink within,
And so I'll pass it to my friend!
Cup of cheer! Haunch of boar! Beetle wings! Duck duck goose! Hot peppers! Berry hash! FROG! LEGS!
Seven nights and seven days,
Eating, drinking, merry ways!
All the courses, taste each one,
Feasting is the winter's fun!
“Thank you! You were extremely loud! This next one’s… well, it sounds like it might be a little ribald. But the Totoma promised me that this song... is also about food. No matter what it sounds like it might be about, it's definitely about food. And fighting. It's a traditional Totoma tune, I’ve been told.”
The frost is on the mountain now,
The down is off the duck!
And so I go
In deepest snow
To warm me up from horn to toe,
And what will I find with a bit of luck?
A lovely, warm, and juicy fffffff-
PHEASANT! Roasted pheasant, very pleasant,
Wear the wings around your necks!
But hungry still,
I need a thrill,
To keep away the biting chill,
And what will keep the cold in check?
A frisky round of risky ssssss-
SPARRING! Crashing horns and clashing heads,
You feel alive with every pass,
Shake off the snows,
See how it goes,
Be glad you fought before you froze!
Trample down the icy grass,
Hope nature doesn't kick your aaaaaa
AVALANCHES, blizzards, ice!
Storms of winter aren't so nice!
And if I'm strong and so are you,
We'll meet again when winter's through.
If not, oh well, we'll face our end,
Side by side, we stand as friends.
Brave, we laugh at winter's peril,
Sharing with you in our carol.
“Two winter songs in a row, seems only right to get into something for the sun. This next one’s a Kiokote poem, and it’s about accepting your death and letting go when it’s time. The way I heard it, the last word is either said by a second speaker or omitted entirely, depending on how the performer wants to interpret it. It’s interesting how short the lines are- usually Kiokote poetry moves pretty quickly, when they bother to compose a poem, and this is typical of that.”
My time approaches,
I can taste it.
Death encroaches,
I will face it.
I’ve grown so old,
I need to rest.
My heart’s grown cold,
Inside my chest.
I’ve no regrets,
I did my best.
I’ve paid all debts,
I face the west.
I see the stars,
They shine and glow.
I’ve come so far,
Nowhere to go.
I’m leaving now,
This is the end,
So please allow
This plea, my friend.
Although I’m done,
It would be fine
To see the sun
Just… one… more…
“Did you like that? It’s kind of a sad one, the narrator obviously doesn’t get their last wish- but that’s kind of how death works, doesn’t it? On its own schedule, nobody else’s… anyways! This next one’s something I heard off a Zikwa. It’s about longing for something you can’t have.”
They say you never forget your first time,
How you behold her, drinking her in.
How nothing is ever the same.
How you long for her, pine for her, yearn for her…
But you can’t have her.
Can’t hold her.
She’ll burn you, she’ll burn you bad.
Sear the hair from your wrinkled hide,
Dazzle your eyes, if you have them.
Her tongue is fire, lashing and licking,
And she’ll consume you if you let her.
The moon, the moon they say.
The moon is the gentler lover.
Cold and distant, but safer.
The moon won’t break your heart.
But once you’ve had a taste of her,
How can you go back to the cold, serious moonlight?
There’s no beauty in a moonrise.
There’s nothing in a moonset.
They say you never forget your first time.
How she reminds you that you weren’t made for this world.
That you’re a creature of darkness,
That you’re safe in the caves.
That the world above will consume you,
Until you’re nothing but ashes.
But oh! How can a world truly be cruel,
When each and every day, there’s a sunrise?
“Hate to break it to you folks, but this next one’s kind of sad, too. Why do I only know sad poems about the sun? Anyways, this one- those of you who came for some high-class Culture will like it. It’s an old, old Acha poem, from the desert, and it’s really structured. Acha poetry has rules and forms more complicated than anybody else’s, so watch for the rhyme scheme in the last stanza and the way words repeat in the first two!”
Heat swirls up like desert sand,
Sand-coated tongue, like a dog’s, hanging out
Out beyond the oasis, beyond the shade,
Shade your eyes somehow, lest you go blind
Blind to the forced-march dunewalkers beat,
Beat down, beat down, beat down with heat.
Cold comes at night, unwanted and smooth,
Smooth and breath-stealing, barging in.
In our lungs and silvery light,
Light that changes all you see,
See me now, hear the rattling breath strike,
Strike me down, the wretched cold.
Every night a tortured shiver,
Every day a blazing pyre.
But as I lay here, cold as ever,
O how I long for the sun’s bright fire!
"Let's liven up the mood a little with another winter song. This is one about how the cold can be helpful, largely because it drives the one thing that wants to eat us into hibernation. Or brumation. Estivation? I don't know, I just know that crocodiles hunker down when it gets cold."
The green has left the tree leaves;
The earth the wind does sweep
And in her den beneath the mud
The crocodile sleeps
The children frolic freely;
We swim and fish the deeps
Because we know in winter’s cold,
The crocodile sleeps.
The cold comes in, the sun goes down,
There’s no reason to fear or frown
We gather in the winter chill
And greet our friends come as they will
There’s nothing that can harm us now
So kiss your neighbor, take a bow.
Until the heat and sun will creep,
So will the crocodile sleep!
The frost comes in the morning
The spring’s slowed to a seep
And do you know who else is slow?
The crocodile, who sleeps!
There’s nothing fierce to fear now,
There’s no reason to weep.
Because we know in winter’s cold,
The crocodile sleeps.
The cold comes in, the sun goes down,
There’s no reason to fear or frown
We gather in the winter chill
And greet our friends come as they will
There’s nothing that can harm us now
So kiss your neighbor, take a bow.
Until the heat and sun will creep,
So will the crocodile sleep!
