A slice of juvenilia:
Of Silver
Nations blessed by ages long for love of gold at last have fell.
The seeds of self-deceit are sown with ploughs of golden metal cast,
And fields of blood and woe are mown with swords forged in a golden blast.
Of all who seek to find the grail, there is not one who'll live to tell,
From mountains pure of basest lead no precious speck of ore to sell.
Yet silver, sonorous and strong, peals long a bell of blameless past,
And would that bonds of friendship were with strands of silver strong held fast,
For silver as a mirror shin'd will secrets of betrayal tell.
So give me not your yellow discs that usury and lies will varnish;
Hang not about my neck a chain that yokes me to a dray of fools,
For gold is nought but evil magic, caster of deceitful spell.
In silver's truth I will be clad and wear with pride it's telltale tarnish.
A metal hard and pure I need, not soft, nor fickle, for my tools.
And all I ask as my reward: to hear the angels' silver bells.
(It's in sonnet form, but with double length lines
)
15j
Sorry for the lack squirrel imagery
.
I do particularly like the earring Tanka
