Ethan Gilsdorf is the celebrated geek author of the very awesome book, Fantasy Freaks and Gaming Geeks. It’s the sort of book that, if you’re a lifelong geek like me, you can’t put down. The book chronicles Ethan’s life as a young geek, his escape from his roots, and then his return. From Tolkien to tabletop roleplaying, from Boston to New Zealand, the book is a pitch-perfect account of one geek’s journey in a very, very wide world.
I met Ethan earlier this year at PAX:East, where we sat on a panel together. At that point, his book was just in hardcover: but lo! It has landed in paperback!
So, in celebration this great book going paperback, I asked Ethan to do an interview for us here at GeekMom. And since he’s done quite a few interviews, I didn’t want it to be the same dull questions as usual. So we delved a little deeper into the depths of geekdom to tease out some unusual answers.
Hark! There is more, indeed.
In addition to the interview, Ethan is also giving away 5 signed copies of his book Fantasy Freaks and Gaming Geeks to our readers.
How do you win this coveted book, you ask? Ethan, among other things, is also a poet. So I thought it’d be cool if you could give us a verse or two. Be it a free verse, a limerick, a sonnet, a haiku, or a villanelle, on the geeky subject of your choosing (think “An Ode to Harry Potter” or the “Ballad of Bilbo”). Just put your entries in the comments below and we’ll choose the best five entries by Friday!
Good luck, and geek on!
Ethan Gilsdorf Answers GeekMom’s Curious Questions
GeekMom: You’re playing D&D. Your first character choice?
Ethan Gilsdorf: First, a caveat: I come from the dark ages of AD&D, back when we covered our holy texts (the Monster Manual, et al) with brown shopping bag paper and we didn’t have funky classes like Avenger, Invoker, or College Professor, or races like Minotaur, Shardmind, or SpongeBob. No siree! We walked to wizard school through 3 feet of snow and we didn’t have d20s, only d2s and d3s. But to the question: I have always preferred the sneakier, tree-huggier classes like ranger or thief. As far as races, I go hobbit (ooops, silly me, I mean “halfling”) or half-elf. I guess I have a schizophrenic Aragorn … no … Bilbo! fetish. I like the idea of stealth rather than brawn, and I really dig the dark-and-stormy loner types with haunted bloodlines.
GM: The Hobbit movie. Is it going to happen? Your thoughts on PJ vs. Del Toro, and what is in store for the franchise?
EG: The news on this darned movie changes daily. Now that GDT is out, at least those who worried he’d Hellboy it up too much or front-load it with too much action and creatures and special effects, should be breathing a sigh of relief. GDT is a wonderful director, don’t get me wrong. But there’s some solace in knowing that PJ will be at the helm (at least that’s the last news) and the visual and directorial style will be consistent with LOTR. Now the bigger question is whether The Hobbit will be filmed in New Zealand or not, due to, first, labor/union issues, and now tax break issues, and whether Warner Bros. will want to make a film in a country where the actors threatened to strike. There have been huge rallies in NZ to keep the film there. As I write this, Warners is reportedly headed to NZ to meet with PJ’s company Wingnut Films to move the production offshore. (Weirdly, Facebook pulled a “Keep the Hobbit film shoot in New Zealand” page after it got 10,000 fans — is Facebook in cahoots with Time/Warner?). Tempers are flaring and folks are upset. It’s unfortunate, but since everyone involved stands to make a crapload of money, the film will get made, if not in NZ then the UK or Eastern Europe. (Editor’s note: the film will officially be made in NZ.)
GM: Do you think giving your child a geeky name (Zelda, Frodo, Superman) is a good thing, or a bad thing? Are parents setting their kids up for a geeky upbringing, or will this overt geek indoctrination end up backfiring?
EG: Will naming your spawn Arwen, Neo, Buffy or Leia condemn them to endless torment? I doubt it. There’s already a trend for crazy non-geek mash-up names that seem equally ridiculous, i.e., Breckin? Chance? Maxigan? Attica? Not much goofier than Samwise. Besides, by the time your babies are in high school, Lord of the Rings will be required reading, and they’ll be able to study French, Latin and Na’vi.
GM: What are your geeky black holes? Any fandoms or pastimes you just aren’t into/don’t get/wish you could like but don’t? (Me: Dr. Who, for instance)
EG: One problem is I don’t watch TV as much as I used to, so I’ve missed a lot of the recent shows like Battlestar Galactica and Lost (I know, it’s embarrassing to admit! They’re on my list to get on DVD!). And in terms of gaming, I don’t own Xbox or Wii, so I don’t have much first-person experience with the most ground-breaking games like BioShock or Gears of War. What can I say? My hand-eye was always pathetic (although I’m pretty good at old-school arcade games like Galaga and Robotron 2084). I never got into anime or manga, either (but weirdly loved “Star Blazers” as a kid). Like you, I never connected with Dr. Who, despite it airing each night on PBS between Julia Child and MacNeil/Lehrer. Those BBC special effects were just too cheesy a kid who was spoiled on ILM-quality effects. I’m too old for Joss Whedon fandom and wish I had gotten into Magic: The Gathering. But I do my best to keep up and make sure my black holes aren’t too deep. Lately, I’ve been diving into steampunk for an article I’m writing for the Boston Globe. I even attended a steampunk LARP. That was a hoot.
GM: Gilsdorf. Seems like the name has some geeky undertones. I think Gil-Galad, and dwarf. Were you just predestined?
EG: On my book tour, I’ve gotten a zillion comments from people asking me if my name is real. Yep, I say, my parents actually named me this tongue-twister “Ethan Gilsdorf.”. People wonder if it’s Elvish. Or Elvis. At the time, the name Ethan was about as rare as orc teeth. Friends in high school called me Nahte Frodslig.
GM: You spent a good amount of time away from geekery in general. Now you’re embracing it, and well, making money off of the story of your journey. Have you encountered any angry geeks in regards to your years of non-geekiness? Or have people been generally welcoming?
EG: Thankfully, people have been really welcoming. They appreciated me advocating for geek subcultures and in some cases, helping them suppress their own misgivings or hesitations about their geekery and embrace their passions entirely. Of course, rightly, some folks have been skeptical, both while I was traveling and researching the book, and then on the road speaking about Fantasy Freaks and Gaming Geeks. I’ve had to pass a “geek cred” test. (Which I usually pass. Just don’t ask me about 4th edition rules.) As for making money off my journey — ha! Who told you writers can make money at this? Honestly, thus far this has been pretty much a break even project for me (so buy the paperback!)
GM: If you could be one superhero for a day, who would it be?
EG: Awesome Teeth Guy? 401K-Man? Jesus? I was a fan of Aquaman as a kid, but his superpowers always seemed pretty lame (communicating telepathically with marine life doesn’t really help with villains ransacking Gotham City, does it?) Actually, I always liked The Thing. And The Flash. OK, I’ll go with The Flash. He is cool.
GM: If you could live in one alternate world (from movies, books, etc.) which would it be, and why?
EG: I have to say Middle-earth. I am a total, 110 percent, certifiable Tolkien geek. I want to live in the Shire and drink ale and dance and grow carrots and eat myself fat and smoke pipeweed. And go on the occasional adventure.
GM: Who’s your geek crush? (If you have one.)
EG: As a confused pre-pubescent in the 1970s, I was infatuated with Lynda Carter (Wonder Woman) and her Amazonian boobs. Later, Carrie Fisher as Leia (particularly the Jabba-enslaved Leia in her bronze bikini) did it for me. Nowadays? Tina Fey. Is she a real geek? Probably not. But she looks geeky behind those glasses. I’m a sucker for nerdy librarian types.
GM: What geeky achievement are you most proud of?
EG: Other than writing Fantasy Freaks and Gaming Geeks, I’d have to say my trip to New Zealand to visit as many of the Lord of the Rings filming locations as possible, stalk Peter Jackson and sneak in to Weta Workshop was a thrill. I met some of the LOTR effects guys like Peter Lyon (who made the swords) and Gino Acevedo (who did all the prosthetic makeup) and I got to say “Hi” to Richard Taylor. I also sweet-talked my way into seeing the actual manuscripts of The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings (they’re in Milwaukee, of all places). I was allowed to page through some of Tolkien’s handwritten drafts and drawings like the Gate of Moria and the original map of the Lonely Mountain. I tried not to drool. You can read about these geekouts in my book.
About Ethan:
Gilsdorf is the Somerville, Massachusetts-based author of Fantasy Freaks and Gaming Geeks: An Epic Quest for Reality Among Role Players, Online Gamers, and Other Dwellers of Imaginary Realms. He also published travel, arts, and pop culture stories regularly in The New York Times, The Boston Globe, Washington Post, The Christian Science Monitor and other magazines and newspapers worldwide. His blog “Geek Pride” is seen regularly on PsychologyToday.com and he has also been a guest on talk radio and at conventions like PAX and DragonCon as a fantasy and escapism expert. He watched the extended edition of the Lord of the Rings trilogy at least once a year, and he plays with his dice whenever he can. You can follow Ethan’s adventures (and read more about the book) here.
A Randland Resident, to his (ex)-lover.
Shall I compare you to an Aes Sedai?
You have no thought for anything outside.
Your ivory tower reaches to the sky,
Your memories are long, your reach is wide.
Your men, like warders, fight and don’t complain
Though following your orders mean their death.
We have to weigh each of your words like grain,
For without lies you change the truth each breath.
Your channeling is weak, your will is lax.
Your stark manipulation leaves us wroth.
You’d have us think that you’ll spin gold from flax.
But all we get are half-truths, and rough cloth.
You’ll never have my trust, my will’s my own,
I’ll live my life. You’ll always be alone.
A Randland Resident, to his (ex)-lover.
Shall I compare you to an Aes Sedai?
You have no thought for anything outside.
Your ivory tower reaches to the sky,
Your memories are long, your reach is wide.
Your men, like warders, fight and don’t complain
Though following your orders mean their death.
We have to weigh each of your words like grain,
For without lies you change the truth each breath.
Your channeling is weak, your will is lax.
Your stark manipulation leaves us wroth.
You’d have us think that you’ll spin gold from flax.
But all we get are half-truths, and rough cloth.
You’ll never have my trust, my will’s my own,
I’ll live my life. You’ll always be alone.
From the spray of the mist, beyond the eye of the world
He leaves a trail of life and death
Now, standing on his grave for all to see, certain of the hereafter
The dragon lets out a bellowing breath, finally showing his laughter
From the spray of the mist, beyond the eye of the world
He leaves a trail of life and death
Now, standing on his grave for all to see, certain of the hereafter
The dragon lets out a bellowing breath, finally showing his laughter
Unexplained Phenomena
Are there UFO’s and aliens
So-called abductees claim to meet?
Is there a Sasquatch in the woods
And what size are his feet?
Is there such a beast as Nessie
With her long and graceful neck?
And does she play the bagpipes
In the waters of Loch Ness?
What can we hold responsible
For crop circles in the night?
In this realm of normalcy
Are there really ghosts and poltergeists?
From parallel dimensions
To psychics solving crimes.
From JFK to Jimmy Hoffa
These are the mysteries of our times.
Still they’re paled by a question
Into which we’ve yet to delve:
Why are buns in packs of eight
But hot dogs come in twelve?
Unexplained Phenomena
Are there UFO’s and aliens
So-called abductees claim to meet?
Is there a Sasquatch in the woods
And what size are his feet?
Is there such a beast as Nessie
With her long and graceful neck?
And does she play the bagpipes
In the waters of Loch Ness?
What can we hold responsible
For crop circles in the night?
In this realm of normalcy
Are there really ghosts and poltergeists?
From parallel dimensions
To psychics solving crimes.
From JFK to Jimmy Hoffa
These are the mysteries of our times.
Still they’re paled by a question
Into which we’ve yet to delve:
Why are buns in packs of eight
But hot dogs come in twelve?
A Haiku Inspired by Tolkien’s Middle-earth
Fair Folk from Faerie,
Land full of Perils unknown,
Call me, “Come hither!”
A Haiku Inspired by Tolkien’s Middle-earth
Fair Folk from Faerie,
Land full of Perils unknown,
Call me, “Come hither!”
There once was an Elf wizard from Nan’tucket
Whose wife went after his wand with a hatchet
She accused him of inappropriate play
With the other local Fey
And he woefully claims to this day never to have found a new rod that can match it
There once was an Elf wizard from Nan’tucket
Whose wife went after his wand with a hatchet
She accused him of inappropriate play
With the other local Fey
And he woefully claims to this day never to have found a new rod that can match it
Fairy Candles
In the place of loves last longing
limbs cling like roots on mossy beds
Fairy Candles in the forest
float above long flowing skirts
Hems of green etch the jackets
velvet gowns, chestnut colored
Swirl like leaves about to fall
breathing in the last of summer
We harvest in the ripened roses
ball up the faded dying vines
Gather all the greens of summer
shroud the earth in grey and yellow
Marching in the calling moonlight
through the thickets of the thornbush
Before the fretted frosts of winter
drape the world in cloaks of snow
Wrap all the naked limbs in ice
silence settles in the umbles
Much is lost but not unthought of
when we remove this misty land
Travel in our water carvers
to live among the long forgotten
Fairy Candles
In the place of loves last longing
limbs cling like roots on mossy beds
Fairy Candles in the forest
float above long flowing skirts
Hems of green etch the jackets
velvet gowns, chestnut colored
Swirl like leaves about to fall
breathing in the last of summer
We harvest in the ripened roses
ball up the faded dying vines
Gather all the greens of summer
shroud the earth in grey and yellow
Marching in the calling moonlight
through the thickets of the thornbush
Before the fretted frosts of winter
drape the world in cloaks of snow
Wrap all the naked limbs in ice
silence settles in the umbles
Much is lost but not unthought of
when we remove this misty land
Travel in our water carvers
to live among the long forgotten
“Evony Ecstasy”
Hear me Furstin and Prinzessin,
Hoarders of the Rose of War.
Ye of amulets incessant,
No alliance to be sworn,
Golden sweat, noobies threat,
And your pocket never shaken —
GIVE
the poor
a break!
I’ll be Earl before the morrow
Though I haven’t slept since March.
Half my resources on escrow,
this new Host thinks he’s Monarch!
Farming, farming, RED BIRD, farming
Two more scoops of mint ice cream.
My new ‘best’ friend quests from England,
Canada, my enemy.
I don’t buy myself a title;
Honor bars me from triumph.
Making top twenty is vital.
Maybe next week I’ll sign off…
“Evony Ecstasy”
Hear me Furstin and Prinzessin,
Hoarders of the Rose of War.
Ye of amulets incessant,
No alliance to be sworn,
Golden sweat, noobies threat,
And your pocket never shaken —
GIVE
the poor
a break!
I’ll be Earl before the morrow
Though I haven’t slept since March.
Half my resources on escrow,
this new Host thinks he’s Monarch!
Farming, farming, RED BIRD, farming
Two more scoops of mint ice cream.
My new ‘best’ friend quests from England,
Canada, my enemy.
I don’t buy myself a title;
Honor bars me from triumph.
Making top twenty is vital.
Maybe next week I’ll sign off…
Godzilla rages.
Destroys downtown Tokyo.
All children scream.
Japanese Army
Think they can stop Godzilla.
Silly Japanese.
Godzilla! screams man,
As the giant lizard stomps
On the innocent.
Bang! army brought tanks.
Godzilla swats misslies down.
No tanks are a match.
Godzilla breathes fire.
Amazing feat of science,
These burning buildings.
King Ghidorah strikes.
Godzilla’s oldest foe, fight!
Godzilla pwnage!
Godzilla rages.
Destroys downtown Tokyo.
All children scream.
Japanese Army
Think they can stop Godzilla.
Silly Japanese.
Godzilla! screams man,
As the giant lizard stomps
On the innocent.
Bang! army brought tanks.
Godzilla swats misslies down.
No tanks are a match.
Godzilla breathes fire.
Amazing feat of science,
These burning buildings.
King Ghidorah strikes.
Godzilla’s oldest foe, fight!
Godzilla pwnage!
Masters of Voodoo,
Raise dead bodies from the ground.
Scary zombies rise!
They are creeping near,
The terrible zombies you
Must, must learn to fear.
A beautiful day,
Zombies all covered in blood.
Brains! the zombies moan.
Citizens ready
Shotguns, chainsaws, explosives.
Undead shamble closer.
Zombies are not much
Of a threat, so slow they move.
Only head shots kill.
The first shot is fired.
A zombie’s head exlpodes, Boom!
Grandpa! shouts Timmy.
Zombies breaks fence.
Starts infecting without pause.
Will Smith kills his dog.
Threat almost over.
Suddenly, fast zombies break in.
Screams in enclosed space.
Small area. Low
Chances for survivors to
Make it out alive.
Complete destruction.
All humanity is dead.
Zombies take over.
Masters of Voodoo,
Raise dead bodies from the ground.
Scary zombies rise!
They are creeping near,
The terrible zombies you
Must, must learn to fear.
A beautiful day,
Zombies all covered in blood.
Brains! the zombies moan.
Citizens ready
Shotguns, chainsaws, explosives.
Undead shamble closer.
Zombies are not much
Of a threat, so slow they move.
Only head shots kill.
The first shot is fired.
A zombie’s head exlpodes, Boom!
Grandpa! shouts Timmy.
Zombies breaks fence.
Starts infecting without pause.
Will Smith kills his dog.
Threat almost over.
Suddenly, fast zombies break in.
Screams in enclosed space.
Small area. Low
Chances for survivors to
Make it out alive.
Complete destruction.
All humanity is dead.
Zombies take over.
Ninja disappears,
Turns invisible like ghost!
Where is ninja now?
Ninja can transform.
Transform into many things!
Ninja is log now.
Ninja fast like wind.
Whoosh! goes amazing ninja.
You can’t catch Ninja!
Ninja enigma,
Never know who is Ninja…
He is not Ninja.
Ninja good with sword.
Shink! Whoosh! Swing! Clank! Stab! Slice! Bang!
Also good with guns.
Women like Ninja.
Ninja has many girlfriends.
Irresistible!
Ninja is friendly,
Ninja likes long walks on beach.
And intimate talks.
Samurai attacks!
Ninja’s oldest, greatest foe!
Ninja always wins.
Ninja disappears,
Turns invisible like ghost!
Where is ninja now?
Ninja can transform.
Transform into many things!
Ninja is log now.
Ninja fast like wind.
Whoosh! goes amazing ninja.
You can’t catch Ninja!
Ninja enigma,
Never know who is Ninja…
He is not Ninja.
Ninja good with sword.
Shink! Whoosh! Swing! Clank! Stab! Slice! Bang!
Also good with guns.
Women like Ninja.
Ninja has many girlfriends.
Irresistible!
Ninja is friendly,
Ninja likes long walks on beach.
And intimate talks.
Samurai attacks!
Ninja’s oldest, greatest foe!
Ninja always wins.
A Hobbit’s Encouragement
Dark are the times you’ve come to see,
Mindless ruffians travel through the Shire and Bree.
They want to decay the roots and poison the land,
But you must endure and stand! Stand! Stand!
Don’t let them get the best of you,
Your heart will surely pull you through.
Out of the darkness and into the light,
Stand up for what is right, against the orcs of the world-
It’s worth the fight.
-Matthew Montelione
A Hobbit’s Encouragement
Dark are the times you’ve come to see,
Mindless ruffians travel through the Shire and Bree.
They want to decay the roots and poison the land,
But you must endure and stand! Stand! Stand!
Don’t let them get the best of you,
Your heart will surely pull you through.
Out of the darkness and into the light,
Stand up for what is right, against the orcs of the world-
It’s worth the fight.
-Matthew Montelione
A Hole Is…
A hole is a hole is a
Hobbit’s true dream:
Dug in and snug
With a bubbling stream.
Leafy shade over,
Grass all around,
Window’s a’plenty
And a door in the round.
Houses all filled
With things old and things new,
And not to forget…
A mathom or two!
Here Sam and his Gaffer
And Goldie and Rose
Lived out thier lives
Upon Bagshot Row.
But these holes are diff’rent-
You have to look close:
There’s something new
Behind the lamppost.
Something shiny and bright
In rows laid so neat–
All aimed to the south:
They’ve got solar heat!
The above was written MANY years ago, for my father, (also a Tolkien fan,) who was a mechanical engineer and was interested in the beginnings of the eco movement.
A Hole Is…
A hole is a hole is a
Hobbit’s true dream:
Dug in and snug
With a bubbling stream.
Leafy shade over,
Grass all around,
Window’s a’plenty
And a door in the round.
Houses all filled
With things old and things new,
And not to forget…
A mathom or two!
Here Sam and his Gaffer
And Goldie and Rose
Lived out thier lives
Upon Bagshot Row.
But these holes are diff’rent-
You have to look close:
There’s something new
Behind the lamppost.
Something shiny and bright
In rows laid so neat–
All aimed to the south:
They’ve got solar heat!
The above was written MANY years ago, for my father, (also a Tolkien fan,) who was a mechanical engineer and was interested in the beginnings of the eco movement.
A Series of Haiku on Remus Lupin from Harry Potter
By Nadia Wheeler, do not use without permission please. Thanks! 🙂
“The Prisoner of Azkaban”
Your eyes reflect moon.
It isn’t full. You sigh, sleep,
Not a wolf. Tonight…
Your eyes burn with sun.
You’re rejected, jobless, but
Still find hope in life.
Your eyes, teary stars.
The heavens whisper: “I know
Plans I have for you.”
Barn owl at night.
Loopy writing, acceptance,
To teach Hogwarts school
Some feel degraded,
Riding the school train to work.
You accept with grace.
The darkness falls cold.
Demented, Harry falls, cries,
You drive it away.
The moon is full. No….
Heart rends…eyes burn…cry dies…
Into a wolf’s howl.
You reject yourself
Still accepted. Dumbledore…
“Good bye then Remus.”
“Goblet of Fire”
You’re feared, used to it.
Now two friends are free
But one should have died.
A scratch at the door
The bearlike dog comes in, pants
And tells Harry’s tale.
Choose what is right,
Or what is easy? You smile.
Easy? Never. Right!
“Order of the Pheonix”
Back to The Order.
You see…pink hair. Smile Tonks.
Smile into my heart.
“Nymphadora…” “TONKS!”
You smile. What could you call her?
Beloved? Not now…
Veil flaps closed. “Harry,
He’s…he’s….” “NOT DEAD!” If only…
You hold Harry. Dead…
A Series of Haiku on Remus Lupin from Harry Potter
By Nadia Wheeler, do not use without permission please. Thanks! 🙂
“The Prisoner of Azkaban”
Your eyes reflect moon.
It isn’t full. You sigh, sleep,
Not a wolf. Tonight…
Your eyes burn with sun.
You’re rejected, jobless, but
Still find hope in life.
Your eyes, teary stars.
The heavens whisper: “I know
Plans I have for you.”
Barn owl at night.
Loopy writing, acceptance,
To teach Hogwarts school
Some feel degraded,
Riding the school train to work.
You accept with grace.
The darkness falls cold.
Demented, Harry falls, cries,
You drive it away.
The moon is full. No….
Heart rends…eyes burn…cry dies…
Into a wolf’s howl.
You reject yourself
Still accepted. Dumbledore…
“Good bye then Remus.”
“Goblet of Fire”
You’re feared, used to it.
Now two friends are free
But one should have died.
A scratch at the door
The bearlike dog comes in, pants
And tells Harry’s tale.
Choose what is right,
Or what is easy? You smile.
Easy? Never. Right!
“Order of the Pheonix”
Back to The Order.
You see…pink hair. Smile Tonks.
Smile into my heart.
“Nymphadora…” “TONKS!”
You smile. What could you call her?
Beloved? Not now…
Veil flaps closed. “Harry,
He’s…he’s….” “NOT DEAD!” If only…
You hold Harry. Dead…
Come and listen to a story about a hobbit named Baggins
A poor Shire lad, never dreamed of dragons
Then one day he was thinking of some food,
and knocking at his door came a group of short dudes.
Dwarves that is, the little people, Durin’s folk.
Well the first thing you know ol Bilbos on a quest,
Riddled with Gollum, stole the ring, passed the test.
Dwarves said “Lonely Mountain is the place you ought to be”
So they fled goblin clutches and went to Mirkwood’s trees.
Forest, that is. Giant spiders, wood elves.
Well now it was time to fight the dragon with Thorin and all his kin.
But when Bard slew Smaug, the dwarves wouldn’t share a thing.
Five armies came to war in their locality
To make a claim on dwarven hospitality.
Treasure that is. Read the book, Give it to someone else.
Y’all read the sequels now, y’hear?.
Come and listen to a story about a hobbit named Baggins
A poor Shire lad, never dreamed of dragons
Then one day he was thinking of some food,
and knocking at his door came a group of short dudes.
Dwarves that is, the little people, Durin’s folk.
Well the first thing you know ol Bilbos on a quest,
Riddled with Gollum, stole the ring, passed the test.
Dwarves said “Lonely Mountain is the place you ought to be”
So they fled goblin clutches and went to Mirkwood’s trees.
Forest, that is. Giant spiders, wood elves.
Well now it was time to fight the dragon with Thorin and all his kin.
But when Bard slew Smaug, the dwarves wouldn’t share a thing.
Five armies came to war in their locality
To make a claim on dwarven hospitality.
Treasure that is. Read the book, Give it to someone else.
Y’all read the sequels now, y’hear?.
In the collected Child ballads the story of Binnorie, or The Two Sisters, tells the tale of a jealous older sister who drowns the younger sister to steal her boyfriend. In the original, a bard finds the bones of the dead girl and makes a harp from her ribs. When the bard and harp come to the king’s hall the harp spontaneously cries out to reveal the evil sister’s deed.
In my modernized version, we hear the tale from the boyfriend’s side, and the revealing current technology:
Binnorie
They said, “There’s been an accident”
your true love’s drowned in the river.
Her sister cried “you poor soul!”
And treated me so kind.
Her sister tried her hardest
to woo me from my sorrow
She seemed so kind ’twas simpler
to take her hand instead.
They never found my true love
but near the place she perished
a jogger found her iphone
engraved from me to her.
That kind soul checked its contents
while looking for the owner.
But what he found surprised him
And shook him to the bone.
Soon after at a party
Announcing our engagement
Friends toasting our good fortune
transcending our sad loss.
A stranger came up to us
and said “I bear a message!
Your true love’s dying message
recorded on this phone”
The room was shocked to silence
All waiting for the message
He pushed the keypad neatly
The phone began to play
The soundtrack to a movie
of swans down by the river.
Surprisingly the first words
Were in her sister’s voice
“It’s not fair!” cried her sister
“That you should have that boyo
I’m older and more comely –
he should have chosen me!”
“But if you’re gone from his life
Then *I* can woo his sorrow”
A sound of struggle, phone drops
A scream and then a splash. (PAUSE)
All eyes turned to her sister
revealed an evil schemer.
She screamed, threw champagne at me
And bolted for the door.
So now I wander lonely
My true love’s phone remaining
a souvenir of sorrow
and jealousy unleashed
(CC licensing – Attribution Non-commercial No Derivatives )
In the collected Child ballads the story of Binnorie, or The Two Sisters, tells the tale of a jealous older sister who drowns the younger sister to steal her boyfriend. In the original, a bard finds the bones of the dead girl and makes a harp from her ribs. When the bard and harp come to the king’s hall the harp spontaneously cries out to reveal the evil sister’s deed.
In my modernized version, we hear the tale from the boyfriend’s side, and the revealing current technology:
Binnorie
They said, “There’s been an accident”
your true love’s drowned in the river.
Her sister cried “you poor soul!”
And treated me so kind.
Her sister tried her hardest
to woo me from my sorrow
She seemed so kind ’twas simpler
to take her hand instead.
They never found my true love
but near the place she perished
a jogger found her iphone
engraved from me to her.
That kind soul checked its contents
while looking for the owner.
But what he found surprised him
And shook him to the bone.
Soon after at a party
Announcing our engagement
Friends toasting our good fortune
transcending our sad loss.
A stranger came up to us
and said “I bear a message!
Your true love’s dying message
recorded on this phone”
The room was shocked to silence
All waiting for the message
He pushed the keypad neatly
The phone began to play
The soundtrack to a movie
of swans down by the river.
Surprisingly the first words
Were in her sister’s voice
“It’s not fair!” cried her sister
“That you should have that boyo
I’m older and more comely –
he should have chosen me!”
“But if you’re gone from his life
Then *I* can woo his sorrow”
A sound of struggle, phone drops
A scream and then a splash. (PAUSE)
All eyes turned to her sister
revealed an evil schemer.
She screamed, threw champagne at me
And bolted for the door.
So now I wander lonely
My true love’s phone remaining
a souvenir of sorrow
and jealousy unleashed
(CC licensing – Attribution Non-commercial No Derivatives )
Hi,
Not sure if your competition is still going but thought the following almost haiku might be appropriate.
An Immortal’s Lament
We will never see
a lifetime warranty
for immortality
Enjoy.
Hi,
Not sure if your competition is still going but thought the following almost haiku might be appropriate.
An Immortal’s Lament
We will never see
a lifetime warranty
for immortality
Enjoy.
The moment of fate
Let the dice fall as they may
Natural twenty plea
The moment of fate
Let the dice fall as they may
Natural twenty plea
Haiku on World Peace
Dream in fantasy
Fight with just pixels and dice
World in harmony
Haiku on World Peace
Dream in fantasy
Fight with just pixels and dice
World in harmony
A couple of poemy things from my upcoming book Gothistocrats: The Lords of Pretention
True Gothistocrats:
We live in a new age.
Supposedly an age of reason
Certainly an age of multiculturalism
Where everyone is right and no one is wrong
Where the greatest crime of all is to hold a prejudice
However
This does not change who we are
We are the Gothistocrats
The one true Clique of goth
We are not Crowleys: swishing around in capes casting “spells:” They are not goth
We are not Freaks: slinking in the shadows away from judgemental eyes: They are not goth
We are not the Grungies: lowering ourselves to the level of beasts: They are not goth
We are not the Moshers: all bravado and coarse vulgarity: The are not goth
We are not the Perkies: all smiles and hugs: They are not goth
We are not the Pretentious Art Whores: whining about artistic talent we don’t possess: They are not goth
We are not the Indy Cliques: all exoticism and not enough fundamentals: They are not goth
We are not the Batshit: we don’t believe in the absurd concept of freedom: They are not goth
And we are most certainly not the Sparklers: Don’t get us started on how they are not goth
No we, my friends, are the Gothistocrats
It is up to each and every one of you to uphold our honour
And if that involves holding a prejudice
Dismissing a fool by virtue of his Clique
Then so be it
Confused:
Yes I know
It’s all so complicated
It’s all so confusing
First you have to deal with the fact you’re a Bloodsucker and what that means
Then a part of a wider society and all that entails
But most of all child
Most important of all
You must learn your Clique and your place in it.
You are most fortunate
Unlike certain other parties the Gothistocrats are well organised
We have a clear and simple structure
Learn your place
Fill it well
And one day maybe
Just maybe
You’ll be Lord
And you’ll be sitting where I’m sitting now
Telling younglings
Sitting where you’re sitting now
What I have just told you
A couple of poemy things from my upcoming book Gothistocrats: The Lords of Pretention
True Gothistocrats:
We live in a new age.
Supposedly an age of reason
Certainly an age of multiculturalism
Where everyone is right and no one is wrong
Where the greatest crime of all is to hold a prejudice
However
This does not change who we are
We are the Gothistocrats
The one true Clique of goth
We are not Crowleys: swishing around in capes casting “spells:” They are not goth
We are not Freaks: slinking in the shadows away from judgemental eyes: They are not goth
We are not the Grungies: lowering ourselves to the level of beasts: They are not goth
We are not the Moshers: all bravado and coarse vulgarity: The are not goth
We are not the Perkies: all smiles and hugs: They are not goth
We are not the Pretentious Art Whores: whining about artistic talent we don’t possess: They are not goth
We are not the Indy Cliques: all exoticism and not enough fundamentals: They are not goth
We are not the Batshit: we don’t believe in the absurd concept of freedom: They are not goth
And we are most certainly not the Sparklers: Don’t get us started on how they are not goth
No we, my friends, are the Gothistocrats
It is up to each and every one of you to uphold our honour
And if that involves holding a prejudice
Dismissing a fool by virtue of his Clique
Then so be it
Confused:
Yes I know
It’s all so complicated
It’s all so confusing
First you have to deal with the fact you’re a Bloodsucker and what that means
Then a part of a wider society and all that entails
But most of all child
Most important of all
You must learn your Clique and your place in it.
You are most fortunate
Unlike certain other parties the Gothistocrats are well organised
We have a clear and simple structure
Learn your place
Fill it well
And one day maybe
Just maybe
You’ll be Lord
And you’ll be sitting where I’m sitting now
Telling younglings
Sitting where you’re sitting now
What I have just told you
It paints the grandest picture of them all.
“Glory” it, whispers,” “Freedom!” is cries.
It only wants the chains to fall.
It is the eyes that see land; it is the dragon that flies in the sky.
It is the hero that charges the battlefield with a battle cry; it is even the Heroine in distress.
It is the beautiful maiden in blue silk dress.
It can even turn simple colors into fantasy.
The color grey turns into a castle
Green into green fields to trot
The color pure blue and fire orange into a river and a sunset to reflect an awe.
And the thought of it all, becomes my reality .
It is here the finale battle is thought of, hardly fought.
However, the true battle was setting it free.
It is the grandest painting of them all.
It is, my imagination
And it only wants, the chains to fall.
It paints the grandest picture of them all.
“Glory” it, whispers,” “Freedom!” is cries.
It only wants the chains to fall.
It is the eyes that see land; it is the dragon that flies in the sky.
It is the hero that charges the battlefield with a battle cry; it is even the Heroine in distress.
It is the beautiful maiden in blue silk dress.
It can even turn simple colors into fantasy.
The color grey turns into a castle
Green into green fields to trot
The color pure blue and fire orange into a river and a sunset to reflect an awe.
And the thought of it all, becomes my reality .
It is here the finale battle is thought of, hardly fought.
However, the true battle was setting it free.
It is the grandest painting of them all.
It is, my imagination
And it only wants, the chains to fall.
A tribute to the Rankin/Bass cartoon of “The Hobbit”.
Hooked
————
On a warm Spring eve many moons ago
I found a land that you all know
a land of hobbits, dragons, and elves
of stout men and dwarves longing for lost delves
a land rich in lore and full of song
from the first it made my heart long
for magic woods and looming peaks
and one Lonely Mountain in the distance bleak
where dwelled a Dragon from the Northern Wastes
all of this suited my tastes
for a boy with imagination to spare
who sat entranced as Bilbo entered the lair
of one Gollum, who played Riddle games
who in the end would forever blame
Baggins, thief and liar
accidental visitor from the Shire
who met Trolls and fought with spiders
cried Attercop and was named Barrel-rider
wielded Sting from the days of yore
which made me want more and more
from that ‘toon by Rankin-Bass
whose fond memory will never pass
I was invited by one Grey Wizard
to come hither and entered
Middle-earth, her lands opened wide
home again, I strolled inside
and remain always with elves and Rangers
our brave hobbits, facing dangers
so great I couldn’t bear to turn the page
but yet I did, ready to face orcish rage
and blow the Horn of Gondor
and do so much more
so many adventures are still in store
for a man who first met hobbits one long ago spring eve
and for a boy who just wanted to believe….
A tribute to the Rankin/Bass cartoon of “The Hobbit”.
Hooked
————
On a warm Spring eve many moons ago
I found a land that you all know
a land of hobbits, dragons, and elves
of stout men and dwarves longing for lost delves
a land rich in lore and full of song
from the first it made my heart long
for magic woods and looming peaks
and one Lonely Mountain in the distance bleak
where dwelled a Dragon from the Northern Wastes
all of this suited my tastes
for a boy with imagination to spare
who sat entranced as Bilbo entered the lair
of one Gollum, who played Riddle games
who in the end would forever blame
Baggins, thief and liar
accidental visitor from the Shire
who met Trolls and fought with spiders
cried Attercop and was named Barrel-rider
wielded Sting from the days of yore
which made me want more and more
from that ‘toon by Rankin-Bass
whose fond memory will never pass
I was invited by one Grey Wizard
to come hither and entered
Middle-earth, her lands opened wide
home again, I strolled inside
and remain always with elves and Rangers
our brave hobbits, facing dangers
so great I couldn’t bear to turn the page
but yet I did, ready to face orcish rage
and blow the Horn of Gondor
and do so much more
so many adventures are still in store
for a man who first met hobbits one long ago spring eve
and for a boy who just wanted to believe….
Battle of the Hornburg
Ten thousand beasts in the bodies of men,
Marched towards the old but mighty den,
In which one thousand would valiantly defend,
For their lives and peace in their country once again,
They met at the wall, exchanging arrows then and then,
Alas, began the storm and rain which would never end,
Impend! Offend!
Came the orders, and the men drew their makeshift swords,
As the beasts climbed ladders and invaded in hoards,
The defence was outnumbered and there fell an elf friend,
And down below the wall broke, smashed by foreign folk,
So the monsters poured in and the defence to retreat to the keep,
Where the women and children worried and could only weep,
Amend! Defend!
The trolls battered the gates and crushed those behind,
As the rest fell back to the caves that shone, confined,
On the bridge where dwarf, elf and man used all their brawn,
Yet the sun’s rising made all the beasts blind,
And they did not know who came from behind,
And to the men’s delight, the night had withdrawn,
Light! Dawn!
Came the cries as help came galloping from over the hill,
Horse warriors who were once lost, riding, their place to fulfil,
Led by the white wizard whose light was of monster’s scorn,
There the fearless fled, and the hopeless cheered, no longer in dread,
Then the remaining ran away but were met with a strange forest,
Trees from far away which didn’t treated the deserters’ like a guest,
They had battled throughout the night; no survivor could stifle a yawn.
Battle of the Hornburg
Ten thousand beasts in the bodies of men,
Marched towards the old but mighty den,
In which one thousand would valiantly defend,
For their lives and peace in their country once again,
They met at the wall, exchanging arrows then and then,
Alas, began the storm and rain which would never end,
Impend! Offend!
Came the orders, and the men drew their makeshift swords,
As the beasts climbed ladders and invaded in hoards,
The defence was outnumbered and there fell an elf friend,
And down below the wall broke, smashed by foreign folk,
So the monsters poured in and the defence to retreat to the keep,
Where the women and children worried and could only weep,
Amend! Defend!
The trolls battered the gates and crushed those behind,
As the rest fell back to the caves that shone, confined,
On the bridge where dwarf, elf and man used all their brawn,
Yet the sun’s rising made all the beasts blind,
And they did not know who came from behind,
And to the men’s delight, the night had withdrawn,
Light! Dawn!
Came the cries as help came galloping from over the hill,
Horse warriors who were once lost, riding, their place to fulfil,
Led by the white wizard whose light was of monster’s scorn,
There the fearless fled, and the hopeless cheered, no longer in dread,
Then the remaining ran away but were met with a strange forest,
Trees from far away which didn’t treated the deserters’ like a guest,
They had battled throughout the night; no survivor could stifle a yawn.
Troll
Five days and nights we silent slept
And set a watch at night
The forest floor our secrets kept
The nature checks, our fight.
‘Twas at the will of Duke Merlot
(For he had sent us hence);
He bid us to the forest go,
To check the goblin-fence.
And I, with sinewy tail and horns
And long black cloak of starry sky
Waited for the Radiant Morn,
And what the Watchman could espy
I fingered my Harvest Rod,
Shined the dwarf’s Transference Axe,
The Cleric prayed unto his god
To stall goblin attacks
Yet all the prayer was done for naught.
The elf cried out at morningtide,
That worse that we had ever fought
Was barreling down the mountainside
A cretinous Bloodrager Troll!
If I had known the outcome then-
If it weren’t for that twenty roll,
I’d be safe at home again
First it crushed the Cleric’s skull
(19 versus armor class),
And cracked the feeble iron hull
Of full plate far too good to last,
Then it spied the Paladin,
Fixed him with its vile glare
And he made ever such a din-
The troll lit up his underwear
18 v ref, and what a sight!
(6d6 fire) burned and seethed
And lit the last remains of night
While Güran choked and couldn’t breathe
Through the fumes of smoking dwarf
Slim arrows pelted through the wind
15! 16! Not enough
To slay the troll; just like his kin,
The Seeker felt his heart give way
In the troll’s fell shadow
He might have kept his life, but hey-
He failed the saving throw.
So two were left, the troll and I
Though he had fire in his gaze
The hellish globes that were my eyes
Saw fear etched on his brutish face
The cretin took my Eldritch Blast,
And I his Frenzied Strike
And so, before I breathed my last
I grabbed a nearby pike.
It’s 1d4 for improvised,
But I charged him with it still
And spent an action point, devised:
+15 versus will
I’d almost killed the Rager Troll
But his will was twelve and ten
If it weren’t for his twenty roll,
I’d be safe at home again.
Troll
Five days and nights we silent slept
And set a watch at night
The forest floor our secrets kept
The nature checks, our fight.
‘Twas at the will of Duke Merlot
(For he had sent us hence);
He bid us to the forest go,
To check the goblin-fence.
And I, with sinewy tail and horns
And long black cloak of starry sky
Waited for the Radiant Morn,
And what the Watchman could espy
I fingered my Harvest Rod,
Shined the dwarf’s Transference Axe,
The Cleric prayed unto his god
To stall goblin attacks
Yet all the prayer was done for naught.
The elf cried out at morningtide,
That worse that we had ever fought
Was barreling down the mountainside
A cretinous Bloodrager Troll!
If I had known the outcome then-
If it weren’t for that twenty roll,
I’d be safe at home again
First it crushed the Cleric’s skull
(19 versus armor class),
And cracked the feeble iron hull
Of full plate far too good to last,
Then it spied the Paladin,
Fixed him with its vile glare
And he made ever such a din-
The troll lit up his underwear
18 v ref, and what a sight!
(6d6 fire) burned and seethed
And lit the last remains of night
While Güran choked and couldn’t breathe
Through the fumes of smoking dwarf
Slim arrows pelted through the wind
15! 16! Not enough
To slay the troll; just like his kin,
The Seeker felt his heart give way
In the troll’s fell shadow
He might have kept his life, but hey-
He failed the saving throw.
So two were left, the troll and I
Though he had fire in his gaze
The hellish globes that were my eyes
Saw fear etched on his brutish face
The cretin took my Eldritch Blast,
And I his Frenzied Strike
And so, before I breathed my last
I grabbed a nearby pike.
It’s 1d4 for improvised,
But I charged him with it still
And spent an action point, devised:
+15 versus will
I’d almost killed the Rager Troll
But his will was twelve and ten
If it weren’t for his twenty roll,
I’d be safe at home again.
Lost in the deep thick of a forest, green,
I, weary from wandering, stopped to take rest.
Beneath rain-kissed branches,
laden with fairy fruit, dripping with steam,
I sighed for sleep and fell, at once, into a dream.
A voice came ech’ing o’er the chilly air,
singing a spell to wake me from sleep.
The emerald trees began to murmer,
their strange music whistling through the breeze in my hair.
A far off maiden was whispering my name in a meadow,
I knew not where.
I broke through the thicket to find her,
my armor flashing in the moonlight, pale.
At last there came a clearing in the woodland, wild,
And a muteness befell me, so lost was my will.
Before me danced giants, trampling the green mantle bare.
Clad in aprons of flapping hide,
like ancient stones of milk-white marble,
men or beasts they leapt through fire,
in time with tongues of dragon-breathed flame.
And in their midst a girl was standing,
A garland of petals through her golden hair tied.
My brow was damp with melted dew,
my brave skin torn by bramble and rock,
when she saw me hiding and bid me come.
I took up my sword, but at once set it down
And went running, instead, to her eyes’ piercing hue.
And the earth seemed to rumble
when seeing me they laughed
in tones afore unheard by any man.
We danced in the deep as if old, long lost friends
while streams were hissing and sloshing froth.
Their hands were stained, but not with blood-
with juice of berries, warmed in hot sun.
But thieving light came and morning broke.
The milk-white marble was turned to stone
And in place of my giants four mountains stood.
And she, in an instant, vanish’d from sight,
from the distant wood where we danced away night
But in her place a trinket I found-
an amaranth swaying, still casting a spell.
Now here I sit beneath four mountains, tall,
guarding this flower ’til next night shall fall…
Lost in the deep thick of a forest, green,
I, weary from wandering, stopped to take rest.
Beneath rain-kissed branches,
laden with fairy fruit, dripping with steam,
I sighed for sleep and fell, at once, into a dream.
A voice came ech’ing o’er the chilly air,
singing a spell to wake me from sleep.
The emerald trees began to murmer,
their strange music whistling through the breeze in my hair.
A far off maiden was whispering my name in a meadow,
I knew not where.
I broke through the thicket to find her,
my armor flashing in the moonlight, pale.
At last there came a clearing in the woodland, wild,
And a muteness befell me, so lost was my will.
Before me danced giants, trampling the green mantle bare.
Clad in aprons of flapping hide,
like ancient stones of milk-white marble,
men or beasts they leapt through fire,
in time with tongues of dragon-breathed flame.
And in their midst a girl was standing,
A garland of petals through her golden hair tied.
My brow was damp with melted dew,
my brave skin torn by bramble and rock,
when she saw me hiding and bid me come.
I took up my sword, but at once set it down
And went running, instead, to her eyes’ piercing hue.
And the earth seemed to rumble
when seeing me they laughed
in tones afore unheard by any man.
We danced in the deep as if old, long lost friends
while streams were hissing and sloshing froth.
Their hands were stained, but not with blood-
with juice of berries, warmed in hot sun.
But thieving light came and morning broke.
The milk-white marble was turned to stone
And in place of my giants four mountains stood.
And she, in an instant, vanish’d from sight,
from the distant wood where we danced away night
But in her place a trinket I found-
an amaranth swaying, still casting a spell.
Now here I sit beneath four mountains, tall,
guarding this flower ’til next night shall fall…
I wake and yet feel still asleep
’til off I drift into a dream
where giants tear down heavy trees,
through dancing flames forge golden beams.
I beg them, “Stop! and quiet, be-
drink up this brook, this cursed stream.
When it is dry then I may reach
the far off one who calls to me.”
I wake and yet feel still asleep
’til off I drift into a dream
where giants tear down heavy trees,
through dancing flames forge golden beams.
I beg them, “Stop! and quiet, be-
drink up this brook, this cursed stream.
When it is dry then I may reach
the far off one who calls to me.”