A Collection of Songs for the Wildarrane

A COLLECTION OF SONGS FOR THE WILDARRANE
by Lief Myeras-Silvermoon

01. Table of Contents
02. Introduction
03. Shashi
04. Seasons
05. Oak
06. Bloom
07. Unbroken
08. Storm
09. Flutter
10. Spring
11. Moon

. . . Introduction

As an artist who likes her neatly even-numbered lines in sonnets and ballads, I've always struggled with the compositional form those who practice bardic arts make wonderful use of. You have nine lines, and you can make use of them however you wish, in whatever fashion suits you best. The limits are nigh endless, and I've born witness to many a moving performance in my life from all walks of life.

And yet, despite the music and meter I've put to parchment and sung on stage, I've struggled. From my very first song, "Seasons," which I let pour from my heart in an overwhelming rush of joy, to the song "Shashi" which bent me toward the resolve I needed to fight for all of Creation, I've grappled with composing my lyrics and expressing myself just so.

Happily, after meditating in joy and anguish, in the playful and the enraged and all the turns that the Wildarrane can take in between, I've settled on a form that speaks, personally, to me. Except for "Seasons" and "Oak", which I've included in this book for posterity, I find myself adhering to this structure time and again to great success.

First is the way the content is structured. While I've always found ballads useful for story-telling, here I was guided more by the method behind sonnets. In many a sonnet, a question is posed and answered, or a problem is introduced and resolved, or a subject is described and then summarized. This call-and-answer informs my play, for am I not calling upon my ancestors themselves to stand with me? Do they not answer, and together we dance?

Thus, within the nine lines, I will dedicate the first four to the topic I would sing about. The fifth line contains a turning point - a question, or something new - and the remaining four conclude the topic. I particularly want to consider the final line because, when all is said and done, this may be the last line an enemy hears before the numbers of the dead grow by yet another soul.

Second is the matter of rhyme. With an odd number of lines, rhyme is very difficult to structure in a way that feels neat, even, and self-contained. However, many have created solutions that work for them, and I've fashioned one of my own! Consider:

A B A B B A B A A

Where A represents one set of rhymes and B another, this scheme works well with the structural content I find myself inspired to compose music to. You will note the fifth line's rhyme will be a B, which is the first time the rhythm of the rhyme changes. The song in its entirety will also end on the same sound it starts, which allows for unity and a sense of completion. Naturally, this means you will want to plan a bit. Ensure the sounds you end your lines upon are common enough that you are not left struggling or reaching for rhymes.

Third is the matter of meter - the way the lines are stressed, and the number of syllables contained in each line. While I normally take the matter of meter very seriously, in these songs, I find it less important to hold myself to strict rules.

I do, however, find that iambs (which are like a heartbeat, with unstressed followed by stressed syllables) and trochees (their opposite) sound the best when you're also rhyming, and so I will overwhelmingly make use of these in my music. I also tend to keep my lines to five feet (ten syllables) or four (eight syllables).

While I would ultimately feel both flattered and disappointed were another budding singer of Trialante's gifts to copy my works word-for-word, I would happily encourage anyone as stumped as I was to attempt this style.

The following pages will contain the lyrics I've scripted, which will empower just about any melody of the Wildarrane, regardless of what is chosen. I do hope you enjoy it.

. . . Shashi

Another moon, another night without you,
Another day absconds without your song.
Another month, another year's passed through
Another year in which I must be strong.
How does the Basin move along
When midnight streaks the sky in your own blue?
Like nothing in the world is wrong
When nothing will again reflect your hue?
Oh Shashi, none could ever replace you.

. . . Seasons

If you should see me dancing there,
Beneath a weeping sky,
Don't stay inside, afraid to dare -
Come join me, eye to eye.
We'll raise the sleeping masses high,
Awaken them to spring,
And bring a Wilder dream to fly
On dandelion's wing...
Oh, what the changing seasons bring!

. . . Oak

A breeze comes through this stand of ancient oak
And greets me where I am, among the stones.
It carries memories of Shelter-folk,
Of mysteries and shrouded, lost unknowns.
I catch a whiff of floral undertones,
Of sweet perfumes and fruitful times to come -
Of harvests, peaches, and of seeded cones -
The future's promise, what we'll all become,
When flower turns to fruit, when whisper turns to song.

. . . Bloom

We've seen our share of wintry gloom
And felt its rime upon our heart.
We've seen its snow-white maw consume
And smother life beneath its art.
Yet even as the noble Hart
Doth teach us to respect this doom,
I'll not let death tear us apart;
No, even in your crumbling tomb,
I'll sing your spirit, and we'll bloom.

. . . Unbroken

Like smoke into a white and clouded sky
Ascending over ruins, black and piled;
Like rushing streams to rivers' bold reply;
Like thistle growing on a mountain, wild -
Let not your darkest days leave you beguiled!
Let loose your timid fears and let them fly
Like dancing blossoms on a zephyr mild.
Our heavy, ripened fruits on branches high
Prove us, Unbroken, 'gainst the shadows nigh.

. . . Storm

A heavy portent in the air;
The steady beating of your heart.
The blackest humid summer snare -
A rumbling storm's about to start.
I feel it rip my chest apart,
A wild, breathless raging tear
That trips my tongue 'til words depart
And all that's left is winded prayer:
My tempest is your curse to bear.

. . . Flutter

I should have been there by your side
When darkness claimed your trusting eyes
And love gave way to fear inside -
When heartbeats flit like butterflies,
Then stuttered into your demise -
I should have been there by your side.
The hardest was that first sunrise...
There's guilt I cannot set aside.
I should have been there by your side.

. . . Spring

A new day dawns upon the melting snow
And paints it with a warm and eager tone -
The purples, pinks, and yellows all aglow,
They sparkle like the finest gem-cut stone.
All suddenly, I see I'm not alone -
That tulip shoots burst from below,
And squirrels chitter from their oaken throne,
And branches sing my name while mild winds blow:
A new spring blooms upon the melting snow.

. . . Moon

And now it's time to put to sleep
The fraught and busy work of day:
The light doth dim and night skies sweep
Away the angry, heated fray.
But soft! A light peeks o'er the way
And brightens Night within her keep -
Above, a silvered, beaming ray
Illuminates where secrets creep:
What Nighttime sows, the Moon shall reap.