Spiel, Spool, and Spell is the first Act in a three Act poem written under the title Copper Door. Copper Door is the 4th chapter in an extended poem I’ve been writing reflecting upon my encounter with Merlin the Wizard. The poem follows on from Prattle, Tattle and Elixir Vitae, which precede this post. For ease of reading Copper Door has been divided into three Acts: Act 1 is called: Spiel, Spool and Spell. Act 2, is titled: Thread, Tread and Weave. And Act 3, given the name: Stitch, Stash and Sow. Presented here is Act 1 ~ Spiel, Spool, and Spell ~
Elixir Vitae introduced Merlin to my protagonist, a Quill-seeking Mariner (me!), who dreams of finding a way to a path between living and dying. They are currently deep underground, held tight between two enchanted hefting-stones and facing towards a Magic Mirror in which Merlin and Archimedes have miraculously appeared. Five charming words cast by the wizard are helping the seafarer reach for a higher ‘wave’, and in the process, perhaps also find a deeper appreciation of life. The Mariner’s journey is only just beginning and there is further still to travel in deeper passages underground before arriving at Copper Door. Upon returning from their short sojourn, Merlin has hinted at meeting Winged Mercury, and the sharing of secrets.
Openings and pathways adorn this Wizard’s dreams.
Passages through Archway between towering seams.
Chambers for reflection upon converging themes.
Hollows for praying to ancient Kings and Queens.
~ Copper Door ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~
~ Act One ~
~ Spiel, Spool, and Spell ~
“Look lively Buccaneer! All hands on deck!”
“Put quick step in that one last stride!”
“Tis occasion to walk your silver plank,
‘cross bridge, to mirror’s other side.”
“You’ll find no form in faffing further there,
with faltering foot falling upon final stair,
and wistful words withering in wishful prayer,
whilst waving woeful wizzy-wizard’s weave!”
“Quite so!” Archimedes sagaciously hooted.
“Tis time to be much bolder.”
“If you delay today, who could say?”
“What ‘paradise is lost’ growing older?”
“Ah! Splendid Archimedes! You do have such twit,
for an owl with aversions to twooo!”
“Do you think he knows what you’re screeching about?”
“Do you even think he has a clue?”
“Mea anima porta est! My soul is a portal!”
Archie retorted, flexed voice resounding in the dark.
“Meo animo speculum est! My mind is a mirror!”
Archie rehooted, bright eyes reflecting luminous spark!.
“Plucky-bacon-ear!” Merlin amused,
as I stood on gangplank of one last stair.
“Why so slow? You’ve nowhere to go!”
“Stride-on through mirror’s winking stare!”
“Tis neither walking nor jaunting,
nor tripping or trapping,
neither prattling and rattling,
nor tottering or teetering,
neither skittering and scuttling,
nor scattering or shattering,
neither falling and flattening,
nor flowing or flawing,
neither flapping and flying,
nor trying or untying,
crossing-over, isn’t dying!
It’s surfing and sailing
wizard’s waving weave!”
“So sail our wave! Slip streams and dreams,
and glistening beams, and shimmering rivers of light!”
“You fall, you fool, from breathtaking height,
in feathering flight, beyond high haunts,
of Kite and Kestrel!”
“Kind, kind, Archie. In Latin, if you please,
spin the spell of ‘Passing Flicker?”
“Your ability to recite such bothersome spells,
have them appear to be so much slicker.”
“Flammis Transeuntes!” Archie pronounced,
with panache and flourishing pedigree.
“Ha ha!” roared Merlin. “My excellent old bird!”
“You speak Latin so impeccably”.
Wizardry and Sorcery were woven so craftily,
by Merlin’s orally owlish winged Seer.
Bewitchery and trickery, flew fast and past and fleetingly
to fall flap-flap-flapping upon my ear.
In whirling wood and weaving wave,
Merlin ruffled his silken sleeve.
Flicked out a spell from wand’s wispy tip,
and whispered, “walk and believe to achieve!’
Whether I breezed through mirror’s rippling ravine,
as silk unreeling thread on autumn’s wave.
Whether I spooled across mirror’s spanning seam,
I was thread, unraveling silk, from wizard’s weave.
Whether I stirred within mirror’s pearling stream,
as thread threading silk in wizard’s wave.
Whether I pooled within mirror’s spinning gleam,
I was silk, threading silk, in Merlin’s weave.
Whether I unfurled into mirror’s flowering dream,
as would a rose breathe-in summer’s day.
Or whether I gazed in mirror’s Looking Glaze,
my mind was blown, and far from home,
already flown, far up, and gone,
far, far, far away…
~~~~~ + ~~~~~
I had passed the test, and travelled through!
Out of the murky cavernous hue!
Into wonderland! Oh my!
Oh no! Dark tunnelled view!
No seam of gleams, no ravine of dreams!
My dreams, it seems, really weren’t coming true!
Where are you?
~~~~~ + ~~~~~
“He’s warming ‘red-squeeze’ for a weave,” Archie decreed.
“The air may get a little blue.”
“Merlin, are you familiar with her flaming spell?
“Or do you need quick pause for review?”
“Tis wise we step aside, one pace or two.”
“Back a little from Myrddin’s tomfoolery.”
“His lady of the wand has irresistible urge,
for sophisticated espièglerie!”
“This weevils-bit,” Merlin rakishly quipped.
“Dressed in devil’s dark ruby grain hue.”
“She’s Latin’s, Indian Rosewood Wand.”
“The Red Sorceress, Dalbergia Sissoo.”
“She’s perfect!’ Said Merlin, with roguish smile.
“Still blushing in melting rose flush.”
“She always knew, I’d be charmed by her hue.”
“My Red Baroness, Dalbergia Sissoo.”
“But…she’s not been out of the sleeve in a while!”
Merlin warned, referring to his next weave..
“Dalbergia is a fine fickle filly.”
“But she may feel a little aggrieved!’
Dark ruby Sissoo, was like nothing seen.
Far, far beyond my far wildest dream.
– molten ruby rippling rosewood’s blushing flower.
I’ve never seen, sweet rose’s dewy gleam,
like the blush of Dalbergia Sissoo!
“Archie?” “Remind me again, those words I need?”
“To flame Sissoo’s fulgent flare?”
“I’m spelling light, spinning sight, spooling ahead.
Else, we’ll never see beyond final stair.”
“Indeed!” “Agreed!” “Fulgenta Scintillem!”
Merlin’s lip, let slip, his slip in error.
“Indeed! Disagreed!” “Fulgentem Scintilla!”
Archie’s lip, let slip, his flip in furor!
“Indeed! Disagreed! “Indeed!” “Fulgentus Scintillis!”
Merlin’s lip, let slip, another slippin’ error
“Indeed! Twice disagreed! “Indeed!!” “Fulgentem Scintilla!”
Archie’s lip, let flip, further flippin’ furor!”
“She’s the flaming heart of your doweling Rose!”
“Show Lady Love, far more respect!”
“She’s the fiery tart of your howling Rose!”
“Show Lady Lust, far less respect!”
“What happens if he gets the words wrong?”
I asked Archimedes cautiously.
“You mean spill the spell? In the flaming song!”
He paused, before answering carefully.
“Spill this spell, and his dark rosewood from hell,
she’ll bedevil the spell, bewitch this spill,
she’ll ensnare the dare of her stare in his spell!”
She’ll bemuse this spill, burn his spell,
she’ll entice the wily wolf away from his spell!
She’ll bewilder this spill, beleaguer his spell.
she’ll entangle the daze of her gaze in his spell!
She’ll besiege this spill, beset this spell
she’ll enamel the glare of her flare in his spell!
She’ll besmirch this spill, she’ll beguile his spell,
she’ll enkindle the stain of her flame in his spell!
She’ll bedazzle his spell, befuddle the steer,
she’ll enrapture and capture the spell of this Seer!
“Fulgentum Scintilla!” Cried Merlin.
“One flick to redden Sissoo’s carmine fuse”
“Fulgenta Scintillum!” Yelled Merlin.
“One flick to scarlet Dalbergia’s ruddy muse!”
“One quick slick of cherry lightning.
One rose bud on ruby quick.
One quick lick of dark crimson.
One ruby bud on rosy wick.”
“One quicker slick of red lightning,
One fiery flick of rosy quick.”
“One quicker snick of dark crimson,
One fiery lick of ruby wick.”
“One quick lick of scarlet lightning
“One flaming flick of ruby quick.”
“One quicker slick of dark crimson.”
One lightning fleck on rosy wick tip.”
“Perfect!’ chuckled Merlin, “she’s still flushing style!”
“Just look at her carnation tincture!”
“Sublime!” chortled Myrddin, “she’s still blushing smile!”
“Did you see the fire-cracker tint-in-her?”
“You are so beautiful,” sighed Merlin.
“My sweet willow Sissoo.”
“How I love to amuse the muse in you,
and muse the muse amused in you,
to amuse the muse I love, in you.”
“Oooh”, she swooned, and flushed her rosewood frame.
“For you,” she cooed, blushing ruby wood grain.
“From Sissoo,” she wooed, and whispered her rouge name.
“Mon amour,” she oozed, and blew to him,
her heart’s gold rosy flame.
Our cave was bathed in crimson shade,
air redolent with Sissoo’s febrile perfume.
No longer grim tomb, of deep waxen gloom,
but riddled rose flume, cast in saffron red bloom.
~~~~~ + ~~~~~