Epic Poetry

The whole point of this blog is to publish extracts from a potential epic poem so that my son can have it when it's done, and I shall attempt to write it in an interesting script.

Does it matter so much if I base it heavily on Beowulf?

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Time and Talents

This is not really one of those blogs.  It was supposed to be about the epic poem that I want to pass on to my boy, a place to post the verses as they occur and to slowly refine them until they become something of which he can be proud.  Or, at least, less embarrassed by.  It was never really supposed to become a place for me to talk or write about things.  I have enough avenues for that kind of thing already.

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The Neolithic

When humankind hadn't really got to grips with agriculture and were still largely nomadic, they must have been supported by the flora and fauna that they encountered.  And they must have had to live in some kind of balance with it, after all, the evidence suggests that following the agricultural revolution (the first one) we sort of got into a balance with the world around us.  Settling down made sense, but even then we seemed to have moved about as a species.  There is evidence for this in Stonehenge and the world in which it was a large part - it seems a fairly large population gathered at the area around Stonehenge regularly but there was simply not enough to sustain the lifestyle for which we have evidence for such a population all the time, this implies that large numbers of people made long journeys, possibly from all over Europe.

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The Tales of Owain, King of the Dimwald

Walking has always been a source of pleasure and an activity that gives the time to ruminate and discuss things with God. Lately, however, I've not been doing that. The Boy and I tend to walk in silence, companionable perhaps, through the trees whilst I make things up in my head. As the winter draws in we spend less time doing this and the last few evenings haven't been used at all for this activity.

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Part Two

It is my belief that we lack a certain element of myth-making in our lives as they stand. There is a sad gap in our understanding when we view everything as it is rather than looking at what we may wish to have been there once.  Take the woods out the back of where we live, an area covered in gnarled, but not terribly old, trees that my son and I walk through quite often. We usually walk them together in companionable silence, he looks at the leaves and watches for aeroplanes and I simply watch my footing over him, he's in the baby-carrier, and keep an eye peeled for free fruit of some description. Occasionally we'll see wildlife like grey squirrels, hedgehogs or various common types of bird.

But what if I told him stories about the woods? About the great and terrible things that took place there in days gone by. I know they didn't, he will learn that they didn't, but what will have been lost?

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The Saga Begins...

This blog is intended to form the spine of the story I write for my son. I make no bones about its cheesy nature or poor attempt at grandeur. I appreciate any and all criticism, please don't be offended if I don't respond or don't follow all your advice - I still appreciate your time!

In the meantime I may well write about other things. We'll see.

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