My open blog for people who want to read my books,articles, and any other things that I might produce, keep track of storytelling engagements, listen to my less demented rantings, and generally play nice (or naughty, I'm easy... as is widely known).
On the Rock
A short poem written in lyric metre for the fund raiser I organised the other week. It's taken two weeks to find five minutes to actually have spare in which to record it! The poem, which is really meant to be read by a woman (so you'll have to visualise that part, or imagine me without the beard) tells the story of the priestess Tarpeia who betrayed Rome int he hope of getting a ton of gold, and presumably running away from the Temple of Vesta to start a new life - she could hardly stay, had her plan worked.
The Sabines, to whom she had betrayed Rome, almost got into the city but were stopped by the god Janus who scalded them with boiling water.
Not having recorded anything for a while (too busy marking, second marking, report writing, lecture prepping, and all the other end-of-term/beginning-of-new-term stuff that educators have to do), I decided to save what little creativity I have by reading someone else's far greater creative works ~ Christina Rossetti's long old poem "Goblin Market". It's a beautifully sensuous, allegorical work which probably set Freudians into a spin.
The book it is in is a wonderfully illustrated 1920s collection of children's poetry, all of which is about fairies, elves, goblins and the like - a Yule/birthday gift from a friend. I shall probably record some shorter poem from it at some point in the future. The picture inset is from the book. It is by an artist I've not previously heard of called Warwick Goble - who may well be famous, but I'm not familiar with many children's illustrators. I looked him up and he seems to have been really quite prolific.
I recorded a rather rambling podcast for the Pagan Federation virtual moot. This is almost the same, but in this version I remembered to say what I forgot to say in their version. The theme set was 'Food for the Soul' and so I've reflected on the way in which storytelling - from novels to family narratives to mythical sagas - shapes our lives (scop's them, if you want an Anglo-Saxon pun) for the better or worse. We feed our bellies with bread, but our souls with sagas.
One day I might transmute these disparate ideas into something cohesive, but at the moment you'll just have to endure the meandering version. I've been asked to write something a bit clever for an anthology ardently read by people who are very, very clever (and some who just think they are). I'm wary of doing so because they also seem to relish ripping one another apart in the way that posturing academics and pseuds in equal measures are prone to do. If I ever manage to produce a chapter, i…
This is a waffle around why some pagans make offerings, considering both theological and practical aspects, made whilst making fudge (though, to be honest, the consistency is closer to toffee - which is what comes of not being able to find my sugar thermometer).