This is my eternal tale while I travel through time's veil. Donna J. Fennel
HER NORTHERN LIGHT FOREVER SHINES® Original, autobiographical tavern tale by Donna J. Fennel.
Excerpted from my upcoming original book of poetry and essays, Borne from the Sands of Time, scheduled for publication in 2006.
First publication on January 14, 2004. Revised on May 28, 2006.
Borne from Baltic winds, yet as innocent as dawn ~
Hair untamed of gilded flame, as in her hours of old.
Shimmers like sunlight bold, akin to alchemist’s gold ~
Brought from her days that were, yet now are gone.
O, she dances and entrances, an enchantress is she ~
Captivating, titillating, and scintillating are her charms.
Lover of rhyme cast through time, like a galleon at sea ~
Face of grace way out of place in labyrinth of history.
Throughout vast vortex of time, she comes and goes ~
Here a life, there a life, pilfering power throughout ages.
Erstwhile attaining wisdom to wield her potent prose ~
Her force is a gift from Heaven and old world sages.
She smiles all the while, with whatever new life brings ~
As she entices with her devices, for her allure is her cure.
Like a court jester, she doth pester with her poetic muse ~
For her virtuous verse is a passion spawned from curse.
Alas, she was once so fearful and tearful, centuries ago ~
When poetic scribing was considered to be high treason.
Erstwhile wayward region bestowed legion to overthrow ~
She was jailed and impaled, without just cause or reason.
Lo, during that era never caring if she were to die young ~
For her tome to loyalist subjects had been quilled and sung.
Now why does she fear Sire Death ‘pon this ill-fated hour ~
Knowing her heart is wielded into each word of her power?
In medieval Scotland, when her clan fought British invasion ~
Tho her Cameron clan died with pride, she escaped with grace ~
Fleeing the Fates, for she inhabited yonder cave to be saved ~
'Til caught by Brits who whipped, transporting her to their nation.
Nay, death was not her plight, for they knew she could write ~
Enticing, now, an English king with poetic muse she doth bring.
Who made her Lady of his Court, for this now was her next port ~
Providing poetic passion to flourish, while souls she nourished.
Then she married a prince of England in her new promised land ~
Erstwhile bestowing him her hand, she etched her legacy in sand.
Whereupon the kingdom became her command, within a fortnight ~
Yet still her will doth instilled the quest to quill her sonnet brand.
Many suns and moons passed, as time’s merciless hand was cast ~
Yet Holy One saw fit to, once again, resurrect this powerful poetess.
For she was now prepared to questfully quill from her palatial past ~
In current century of twenty-one, before sleepy, setting rays of sun.
Lives where she donned helmets, crowns and a bevy of bonnets ~
'Midst the whispering winds of time, she journals her soulful sonnets.
From what soul grieves her audience reads, as vexations disappear.
For eons it is clear, while her poetry draws the huddled masses near.
Throughout the tempests of time, she writes her rhapsody of rhyme ~
Yet there is a reason why she perpetually pens her powerful prose.
For mission she had not mastered to sustain one’s soulful nutrition ~
Tho the Fates opened Heaven’s gates, for her quatraines to grow.
From this poetic fervor, she yearns to return to her spirit home ~
Tho this is a temporary transition, for she would again reincarnate.
Her writings were destined to survive as a trove of perpetual poems ~
So that she could quill for eternity, using her heartfelt gift to create.
Brave lady was she then and now, who dances in bejeweled feet ~
A damsel who, ‘mongst autumn leaves, pranced while they swirled
And curled in time. She could never leave mankind in his prime ~
For her fate shant cease to quill and instill peace ‘pon this world.
Yea, her perpetual poetic muse is blessed news, heralding hope ~
That dawn of a new day shall foster final unity of the human race.
Encouraging those harboring harrowed hearts a welcomed start ~
May her rescue verse remain alive, helping man survive and cope.
How she longs to capture and enrapture man in a warm embrace ~
By whirling her wistful world of worddom of rhyme through time.
For time is a sword that is wielded from thy holy hand of grace ~
Which divides all that man has and is, and the options he decides.
Death is a harbinger invoking man’s fright, 'til he sees the Light ~
Of God ‘pon his humble sod, hence the mission of the poetess.
To be reborn o’er sands of time, resurrecting her powerful pen ~
So that man will, indeed, be enlightened and saved once again.
This poetess’ verse, tho it is a curse damned to carry o’er time ~
Reality depicts, like the River Styx, channels into a new dimension
Naught to fear, for o’er passing years message heeded is divine ~
‘Twas ill-fated to cast as a spell from Hell, evoking apprehension.
Life and Death and Time, these are the trinity we forever meet!
Yet can never defeat, despite man’s attempt at this mortal crime.
Yea, no matter how high we climb, or whatever fate we greet ~
These bounds by the Lord are set, 'til man draws his dying breath.
Death is fate reserved for every man: Life and death and span ~
Yet it takes this passing, in order for a resurrection everlasting.
So is the destiny of the poetess, tho she is a specter of duress ~
Is reborn as an enchantress, so man can experience her address.
‘Twas this woman’s destiny to spawn sustenance through poetry ~
For through the cost of greatest pain, her soul she can now claim.
Paving a paradigm of pageantry, ‘midst pantheon of her poetry ~
She prays from poetic pain, peace and hope new world may gain.
Know the poetess is a huntress keen, who never loses her prey ~
As she casts her spell so very well, intending to make hearts swell.
A green-eyed queen, whose dream is to hold men in her sway ~
Know she shall return again, dear friends, with new tales to tell ...
“Know that life holds promise for those wise enough to follow each opportunity, to develop every iota of talent while connecting with people from all walks of life. One talent, one opportunity, lays the foundation for other talents and opportunities. They build one upon the other, taking us to surprising places and tapping talents that we never knew we had.
The old adage implies to “follow your dream”, like I have diligently over the years. Just believe in yourself, and doors will open, I promise. Allow your Higher Power and Higher Self to carry you when you fall, so that you among humanity can walk tall. Do not forget to pass this inner confidence forward to the multitudes.”
Peace and Light from Donna J. Fennel - 2005-06
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