Inspiration Friday – “The Mewlips” by JRR Tolkien

(This post first appeared on 2 September 2011.)

For this Friday’s inspiration I’ve chosen one of JRR Tolkien’s poems; “The Mewlips”. I first read it in the Tolkien Reader and it forms part of The Adventures of Tom Bombadil. And there is a video where Tolkien reads the poem linked underneath the text of the poem!

Do you have any eerie or scary poems you love? Or perhaps a favourite monster? Have you created you own type of monster, perhaps? (During your worldbuilding, of course, not in your basement using some lightning rods and illegally harvested body parts.)

The Mewlips

The Shadows where the Mewlips dwell
Are dark and wet as ink,
And slow and softly rings their bell,
As in the slime you sink.

You sink into the slime, who dare
To knock upon their door,
While down the grinning gargoyles stare
And noisome waters pour.

Beside the rotting river-strand
The drooping willows weep,
And gloomily the gorcrows stand
Croaking in their sleep.

Over the Merlock Mountains a long and weary way,
In a mouldy valley where the trees are grey,
By a dark pool´s borders without wind or tide,
Moonless and sunless, the Mewlips hide.

The cellars where the Mewlips sit
Are deep and dank and cold
With single sickly candle lit;
And there they count their gold.

Their walls are wet, their ceilings drip;
Their feet upon the floor
Go softly with a squish-flap-flip,
As they sidle to the door.

They peep out slyly; through a crack
Their feeling fingers creep,
And when they’ve finished, in a sack
Your bones they take to keep.

Beyond the Merlock Mountains, a long and lonely road,
Through the spider-shadows and the marsh of Tode,
And through the wood of hanging trees and gallows-weed,
You go to find the Mewlips - and the Mewlips feed.

Here are some great artist renditions of the Mewlips:

You go to find the Mewlips...

... and the Mewlips feed.

Enjoy your weekend! 

And remember on Monday I'll post some new Airthai-fiction. 

Inspiration Friday: A Poem by One of the Great Masters

When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced
The rich proud cost of outworn buried age;
When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed
And brass eternal slave to mortal rage;
When I have seen the hungry ocean gain
Advantage on the kingdom of the shore,
And the firm soil win of the watery main,
Increasing store with loss and loss with store;
When I have seen such interchange of state,
Or state itself confounded to decay;
Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate,
That Time will come and take my love away.
           This thought is as a death, which cannot choose
           But weep to have that which it fears to lose.

-        

                                - Shakespeare, Sonnet 64

Ruins of tower at Kuskuam palace covered by vegetation

And now a bit of a ramble…

Although most people who have taken English classes know (or at least know of) Shakespeare’ssonnet 18 and 116, I firmly believe that most students do not want to study the Bard’s work (or even bother to read it) because they have been told that ‘it is too difficult’ (Not to mention ‘so not cool’ to like it).

I am very thankful for a mother who loved Shakespeare, told my sister and me the stories, and recited parts of the plays and sonnets. We both also received the Wordsworth edition of Shakespeare’s complete works (the grandest books I owned at that time; three hardback volumes in a slipcase). This was also a time when I really started to realise that most of what I was reading was considered ‘too difficult’ for my age (about 13) by some teachers and other adults. Classics like 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Dickens, or Roald Dahl’s short stories and even The Neverending Story.

My point is not ‘give children a pile of thick books to read’ – although that is not really a bad thing. My point is children (or even teenagers) should not be told that something is ‘too difficult for them’ without even letting them try. Not to place that mental block there before they’ve had a chance to decide for themselves. Some books are not age appropriate, yes. But to base ‘too difficult for them to read’ simply on a book that looks ‘too thick’ or one containing words you have to look up in a dictionary is completely silly. 

Bennie Boekwurm

Inspiration Friday – Daring to enjoy, daring to suffer

Even though it is Spring (on this side of the world, anyway), this time of year is – for me – a time of sadness. Although the renewed life that can be seen in every garden and along the sidewalks does give some kind of solace and as well as the need to start anew, it is time when I find it more difficult to find inspiration and motivation. When despair is not an option, the silver lining must be sought, the old coat thrown off, the cobwebs dusted and some kind of happiness found. Even if it is just the promise held in the scent of a blooming Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow.  

So, in order to keep the spirits up, I propose three steps.

 1. Remember to give it some soul

Elke artikel wat sy maak is ‘n nuwe skoonheid waarvan sy die skepper is: dis hare en ‘n ander kon dit nie so gemaak het nie, want sy het haar siel daarin gegiet.

– C.J. Langenhoven

Every article she makes is a new beauty of which she is the creator: it is her own and no one else could have made the like because she poured her soul into it.

– C.J. Langenhoven

2. Do not dwell in a grey twilight

Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure... than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they live in a gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat.
       - Theodore Roosevelt

3. Go to the source

Before the throne

In my room I will bow before the throne

And be still and search for words

In the tongues I know

To exalt and praise and plead.

I will go into my room to be alone,

I will be still and think only of this

And realise that there is an ear that will hear my words

On the throne that none can see.

I will think of ancient stone and desert lands harsh to withstand

And buildings great and grand.

But not there, not there will I go, not where all can see

A lone person praying. A broken person pleading.

I will be still and know that here my words are like

A song of praise that I can but imagine and not sing,

That stuttering words will become sweet music,

That simple words will be given flight,

That all asked from the Prince will be answered,

That the Spirit will fill the simple room where I am,

That the King will place his hand on my shoulder,

That I will go from this room with new life.

Tears will be dried,

New life will enter me.

New love will enter me.

New peace will enter me.

I will be unbound and look at the world anew.

I will go into my room to be alone,

To plead, to praise, to humbly ask for new life.

Inspiration Friday – The making of myths for other Lovers of Myths

The poem Mythopoeia by JRRTolkien, can be found in the new edition of Treeand Leaf. The following passage of the poem can also be found in Tolkien’s famous essay “On Fairy-Stories”. 

The heart of man is not compound of lies,

but draws some wisdom from the only Wise,

and still recalls him. Though now long estranged,

man is not wholly lost nor wholly changed.

Dis-graced he may be, yet is not dethroned,

and keeps the rags of lordship once he owned,

his world-dominion by creative act:

not his to worship the great Artefact,

man, sub-creator, the refracted light

through whom is splintered from a single White

to many hues, and endlessly combined

in living shapes that move from mind to mind.

Through all the crannies of the world we filled

with elves and goblins, though we dared to build

gods and their houses out of dark and light,

and sow the seed of dragons, ‘twas our right

(used or misused). The right has not decayed.

We  make still by the law in which we’re made.

-          JRR Tolkien, Mythopoeia, p87, Harper Collins Publishers, 2001.

I adore this passage and think it should be added to the quotes on the wall by my desk. Tolkien's work, for me, has that magical spark (for want of a better word) that makes my mind and heart come alive. I hope you have enjoyed this past month of Inspirational Tolkien Fridays as much as I have. 

And, as a last treat; here's Tolkien reading Namarië:

Inspirational Friday – Follow That Wanderlust

Or, travelling on a budget.

“So, what are you going to do this weekend?” This question is asked again and again at work on a Friday. Well, there are the usual errands and a nap (if you’re lucky), but there is also the mind-travelling. Technically, I’m going to spend time reading. But that is quite a boring way to say: “Well, actually I’m off on a quest this weekend. Off to slay a dragon (or save a dragon), save a world, and probably ride a horse and wield a sword. Or perhaps I’ll visit another country, planet or universe.”

And, if you’re also writing over the weekend, you’ll probably be packing a bag and heading off into the unknown with a half-drawn map (and some extra paper to jot down any new towns or landmarks you come across). You’ll be wearing a cloak of invisibility and yet change everything you come into contact with. That ‘castle over yonder’ is no longer just a hazy outline of stone, but filled with the bustle of people and intrigue. Maybe you’ll even add a wall or a scheming king while you’re there. Stories will unfurl, rewind, move in another direction or even abruptly stop; the story half told; the world half built.

“So, what are you doing this weekend?”

I think I’ll read a bit. Maybe write a couple of pages. But we’ll see.

Upon the hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed;
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still around the corner we may meet
A sudden standing stone
That none have seen but we alone.
Tree and flower and leaf and grass,
Let them pass! Let them pass!
Hill and water under sky,
Pass them by! Pass them by!

Still around the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though we pass them by today,
Tomorrow we may come this way
And take the hidden paths that run,
Towards the Moon or to the Sun.
Apple, thorn and nut and sloe
Let them go! Let them go!
Sand and stone and pool and dell,
Fare you well! Fare you well!

Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Then world behind and home ahead,
We'll wander back to home and bed.
Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,
And to bed! And then to bed!

-      JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

Inspirational Friday – Warrior's laments

Or, “Where now the horse and the rider” by JRR Tolkien

For the third week of September’s Tolkien-themed Inspiration Fridays, I’ve chosen one of my favourite poems from Lord of the Rings. Tolkien’s inspiration for this poem can be traced to the Anglo-Saxon poem “The Wanderer”.  Below is Tolkien’s poem, followed by the Anglo-Saxon and contemporary English translation from the appropriate passage of “The Wanderer”.

Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?

John DiBartolo has also set this poem to music – you can find out more at this website. 

From “The Wanderer”

Hwær cwom mearg? Hwær cwom mago? 

Hwær cwom maþþumgyfa?

Hwær cwom symbla gesetu?

Hwær sindon seledreamas?

Eala beorht bune!

Eala byrnwiga!

Eala þeodnes þrym!

Hu seo þrag gewat,

genap under nihthelm,

swa heo no wære.

Stondeð nu on laste

leofre duguþe

weal wundrum heah,

wyrmlicum fah.

Eorlas fornoman

asca þryþe,

wæpen wælgifru,

wyrd seo mære,

ond þas stanhleoþu

stormas cnyssað,

hrið hreosende

hrusan bindeð,

wintres woma,

þonne won cymeð,

nipeð nihtscua,

norþan onsendeð

hreo hæglfare And in contemporary English:

Where is the horse gone? Where the rider?

Where the giver of treasure?

Where are the seats at the feast?

Where are the revels in the hall?

Alas for the bright cup!

Alas for the mailed warrior!

Alas for the splendour of the prince!

How that time has passed away,

dark under the cover of night,

as if it had never been!

Now there stands in the trace

of the beloved troop

a wall, wondrously high,

wound round with serpents.

The warriors taken off

by the glory of spears,

the weapons greedy for slaughter,

the famous fate (turn of events),

and storms beat

these rocky cliffs,

falling frost

fetters the earth,

the harbinger of winter;

Then dark comes,

nightshadows deepen,

from the north there comes

a rough hailstorm

in malice against men. A replica of the Sutton Hoo Helm - absolutely exquisite

Friday Inspiration: Shadow Bride by JRR Tolkien

For this Friday’s inspiration I’ve chosen another of JRR Tolkien’s poems. “Shadow Bride” is another poem from The Adventures of Tom Bombadil. Below the poem is a video where the poem is sung beautifully by Colin John Rudd.

Shadow Bride

There was a man who dwelt alone,

as day and night went past

he sat as still as carven stone,

and yet no shadow cast.

The white owls perched upon his head

beneath the winter moon;

they wiped their beaks and thought him dead

under the stars of June.

There came a lady clad in grey

in the twilight shining:

one moment she would stand and stay,

her hair with flowers entwining.

He woke, as had he sprung of stone,

and broke the spell that bound him;

he clasped her fast, both flesh and bone,

and wrapped her shadow round him.

There never more she walks her ways

by sun or moon or star;

she dwells below where neither days

nor any nights there are.

But once a year when caverns yawn

and hidden things awake,

they dance together then till dawn

and a single shadow make.

In other news:

Seeing as this week’s worldbuilding post’s posting went a little pear-shaped this week, I’ll have two worldbuilding posts next week (if all goes according to plan this time).  

Inspiration Friday – “The Mewlips” by JRR Tolkien

For this Friday’s inspiration I’ve chosen one of JRR Tolkien’s poems; “The Mewlips”. I first read it in the Tolkien Reader and it forms part of The Adventures of Tom Bombadil. And there is a video where Tolkien reads the poem linked underneath the text of the poem!

Do you have any eerie or scary poems you love? Or perhaps a favourite monster? Have you created you own type of monster, perhaps? (During your worldbuilding, of course, not in your basement using some lightning rods and illegally harvested body parts.)

The Mewlips

The Shadows where the Mewlips dwell
Are dark and wet as ink,
And slow and softly rings their bell,
As in the slime you sink.

You sink into the slime, who dare
To knock upon their door,
While down the grinning gargoyles stare
And noisome waters pour.

Beside the rotting river-strand
The drooping willows weep,
And gloomily the gorcrows stand
Croaking in their sleep.

Over the Merlock Mountains a long and weary way,
In a mouldy valley where the trees are grey,
By a dark pool´s borders without wind or tide,
Moonless and sunless, the Mewlips hide.

The cellars where the Mewlips sit
Are deep and dank and cold
With single sickly candle lit;
And there they count their gold.

Their walls are wet, their ceilings drip;
Their feet upon the floor
Go softly with a squish-flap-flip,
As they sidle to the door.

They peep out slyly; through a crack
Their feeling fingers creep,
And when they’ve finished, in a sack
Your bones they take to keep.

Beyond the Merlock Mountains, a long and lonely road,
Through the spider-shadows and the marsh of Tode,
And through the wood of hanging trees and gallows-weed,
You go to find the Mewlips - and the Mewlips feed.

Here are some great artist renditions of the Mewlips:

You go to find the Mewlips...

... and the Mewlips feed.

Enjoy your weekend! 

And remember on Monday I'll post some new Airthai-fiction. 

Inspiration Friday: a haunting song by Koos du Plessis

One of the earliest songs I can recall hearing and seeing a music video for, was one of Koos du Plessis’ songs. Titled “Sprokie vir ’n stadskind”, or “Fairy tale for a city child”, it also formed part of various Afrikaans poetry lessons.  Much like his “Kinders van die wind” (Children of the wind), it is a beautiful and haunting piece with multiple layers of meaning. Of course, about twenty years later, the song’s meaning to me has grown and evolved, but I can still remember the whole family watching the bittersweet song on the television. Du Plessis made his own translation of the song – “The neon rainbow” – but I could not find it. So, I made my own translation. It is posted below the Afrikaans text, along with a video where the song is sung by Du Plessis.

Sprokie vir ‘n stadskind

                                                – Koos du Plessis

As die reën van stof en roet verby is,

en die rook verdwyn,

 sal daar in die sterrelose hemel,

’n neonboog verskyn.

En kyk maar goed,

want as jy hom vind,

vertel ek vir jou ’n sprokie, my kind,

van ’n skatkis met ou kettings gebind

aan die neonboog se punt.

Volg hom elke nag oor swart riviere,

 oor kranse van beton.

As jy aanhou stap vir tienduisend ure,

 sal jy dalk daar kom.

Maar hier moet jy jou nimmer laat bind,

want so lui die ou, ou sprokie, my kind,

as jy geluk en vrede wil vind,

soek die neonboog se punt.

Volg hom elke nag oor swart riviere,

kyk nie eenmaal om,

dalk vind jy die land

van blou saffiere

en, dalk, ’n brokkie son.

Fairy tale for a city child

When the rain of dust and soot has passed,

and the smoke disappears,

a neon rainbow will appear

in the starless sky.

And look well,

for if you find it

I’ll tell you a fairy tale, my child,

of a treasure chest bound with old chains

to the end of the neon rainbow.

Follow it every night across black rivers,

over cliffs of concrete.

If you keep on walking

for ten thousand hours

you may get there.

But here you must not let yourself be bound,

for so runs the old, old fairy tale, my child,

if you want to find happiness and peace;

find the end of the neon rainbow.

Follow it every night across black rivers,

do not look around once.

Maybe you’ll find the country

of blue sapphires

and, maybe, a small piece of the sun. 

Have a wonderful weekend!
A Agrai tellarias or s’agrélar silássa.