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About This Author
A changeling spirit,
constantly evolving,
revolving around an inner core,
spinning forth legend and lore,
stories and lives
as I come to grips
with who and what I am,
have been and may be.
I am a phoenix:
rising ever above and beyond!
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When the Mountain Sings A singer sings the ancient songs
and the kinfolk sing along...
and the kinfolk sing along.
They sing old harmonies
passed generations down
from mother to daughter;
their unique mountain sound.
They sing of dying, of love, of the dead,
of long lost loves, of breaking bread.
And these songs harken back
to the lands whence they came
with little more
than their backs and their name.
There are songs for working hard during the day
and songs for thanking, and making your way.
Together they play the ancient songs
and the kinfolk sing along...
and the kin folk sing along.
Stories are told
when their ballads are sung,
and banjos played;
strings plucked or strummed.
They sing of the simple joys of life,
of good times and sad times and endless strife.
Lessons learned and stories golden,
songs of killing, of blood, and pain,
Heard endless times in front porch warmth
Connections strengthened, kinship claimed.
People bred strong as the mountain's roots
Sing their songs, their simple truths.
And all the kinfolk sing along
when the mountain sings the ancient songs...
when the mountain sings the ancient songs.
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© Copyright 2011 Fyn-elf (fyndorian at Writing.Com).
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