Milne's Alchemist

         Time for another fantasy poem (not by me), so here’s a charming one by A.A. Milne.

        The Alchemist

There lives an old man at the top of the street

And the end of his beard reaches down to his feet,

And he’s just the one person I’m longing to meet,

        I think that he sounds so exciting;

For he talks all the day to his tortoiseshell cat,

And he asks about this, and explains about that,

And at night he puts on a big wide-awake¹ hat

        And sits in the writing-room, writing.

He has worked all his life (and he’s terribly old)

At a wonderful spell which says, “Lo, and behold!

Your nursery fender is gold!”—and it’s gold!

        (Or the tongs, or the rod for the curtain);

But some how he hasn’t got hold of it quite,

Or the liquid you pour on it first isn’t right,

So that’s why he works at it night after night

        Till he knows he can do it for certain.

¹ So as not to go to sleep.

        This poem is from When We Were Very Young, 1924.  Since this book is for young children, the poems are all quite gentle and whimsical.  I’ve shared more fantasy poetry of a different sort by Milne here: Bo, Boll, Bill, Bole.  (Still whimsical, but much more satirical.)  And if you want to learn more about the Alchemist’s work and why it’s so difficult and taking him such a long time, you can read about The Philosopher’s Stone.

[Picture: The Alchemist, illustration by Ernest H. Shepard from When We were Very Young by A.A. Milne, 1924.]

S is for Shabti

        (My A to Z Blog Challenge theme this year is Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns, my brand-sparkly-new collection of short stories, poems, and art inspired by fairy tales, myths, and folklore.  All through the month I’m sharing excerpts of art, stories, and poetry, as well as some reflections on the power of the traditional stories that inspired me.)

        For S we’re going into the “Other” category for a poem inspired by the mythology of ancient Egyptian funerary practices.  So, you’re going to live forever in an afterlife that’s really pretty much exactly like this life.  In other words, all the work still needs to be done – and who wants to spend an eternal afterlife doing the chores?  That’s where the shabti comes in.

        A shabti (sometimes also called ushabti or shawabti) is a model figurine of a person, inscribed with magical spells so that when called upon in the afterlife, it will step up and do all the required work, leaving its master to “live” an afterlife of leisure.  The people of the highest wealth and status might include dozens or even hundreds of shabtis in their tombs to make sure they were properly served.  For me the idea of shabtis, like all those stories about beings created for the sole purpose of serving their masters, raises the question of how they feel about this situation.

     For a long time I waited, silent in the sand.

     Feet planted, arms crossed, silent in my row.

     For a long time I waited to respond to the command.

     All was stillness, all was darkness, unvarying and slow.

 

     For a long time I waited, patient for the call

     To plow, to clear obstructions, to carry stones or sand.

     For a long time I waited, my obedience a scrawl

     Of symbols down my legs: my statement and my stand.

 

     “I am here; I answer,” my painted spell declares,

     To the master in whose likeness I am made.

     All around me in the darkness are my master’s painted prayers…

     But his heart has not returned from being weighed.

        Once again I have given you here only half the poem, in an unabashedly unsubtle attempt to entice you to want to read more, thus having to purchase a copy of Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns for yourself.  And in case you need further enticement, But wait!

There’s more!  S is also for Scheherazade, about whom you can read the poem which I posted here.  (Plus, you can read about some other authors’ Scheherazade retellings at this post.)  And S is also for Siren.  I’ve got a short story and a poem about sirens in my book, but in this prior post on The Lure of Sirens you can read all about the varied ways sirens have been depicted in art from ancient Greece up to my own rubber block print (which is in the book - in three variations, no less!)

        The moral of shabtis is that although humans never stop trying to figure out ways to make someone else do the work for them, enslaving another sentient being is never okay.

        However, if you persist in making shabtis despite Moral #1, it’s worth it to pay a little extra for a scribe with clear handwriting, lest you end up with garbled spells and malfunctioning shabtis for all eternity.

  The ancient Egyptians tended to pack for the afterlife like going to a deserted island, so I’ll go with that classic question: what three things would you take?

[Picture: Shabti, rubber block reduction print by AEGNydam, 2025 (Image from NydamPrints.com),

Siren Song, rubber block print by AEGNydam, 2025 (Image from NydamPrints.com).]

R is for Rapunzel

        (My A to Z Blog Challenge theme this year is Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns, my brand-sparkly-new collection of short stories, poems, and art inspired by fairy tales, myths, and folklore, which is released TODAY!  If you wish to rush right out and procure a copy of your very own, it’s now available from the usual on-line behemoth, or from the distributor IngramSpark, or contact me if you want your copies signed or accompanied by anything else from my web site.)

        Like many fairy tales, “Rapunzel” includes sex and violence, trauma and healing, and lots of very odd things without always much in the way of reasonable explanation.  (If you’re only familiar with Disney’s version “Tangled,” you should definitely read the original here.)  So again, there are lots of interesting places one could go with this story (and indeed, Disney’s version is an interesting re-imagining in its own right)  but for me, it started to dawn on me that every part of Rapunzel’s story could be looked at through a botanical lens.  She’s even named for a salad!  And I began to imagine that eventually, after her long and happy life with her prince and their twins, she would die and be buried, and her long Rapunzel hair, still botanical, would become a sort of mycelial network.  Here’s how the poem starts…

     The salad the mother craved became

     The nascent infant in the nourished womb.

     The garden the father robbed became

     The nursery in which she grew.

     The tower the sorceress built became

     A tree of stone, as tall and straight

     As the surrounding pines, and she, Rapunzel,

     Spirit locked within that rocky trunk, became

     Its dryad.

     Her hair, like aerial roots, became

     A pathway for the witch,

     And then the man.

     The thorns in which she fell became

     The heartwood spine of a woman

     Pruned from her mother’s arms,

     Cast out from her walled garden,

     Uprooted from her spirit tree.

     Self-sown in the wilderness, she became

     A wildflower, a weed,

     Until her very tears were healing sap…

        Being coy, I haven’t included the whole poem, despite the spoiler in my explanation and illustration.  I still want to tease you a little - after all, the book is released today!

        I had a very good time designing and carving all the little details of the rubber block print illustration, but it is a rather unusual subject for me.  I printed a somewhat smaller edition of the originals than usual because I wasn’t at all sure whether people would want to buy this and hang it up in their home.  But it turns out that some people do really love it, and there’s only one left available for sale.  I guess I’m so used to being an oddball that I’m not always very good at knowing whether or not other people will share my particular oddball sensibilities – although in this case I am probably actually less attracted to the macabre than the average.  *shrug*  In any case, the larger plant growing in the middle is an attempt at what the actual herb rapunzel looks like (Campanula rapunculus.  Admittedly, no one knows with 100%

certainty what herb was referred to in the fairy tale because of the variability of common names of plants, but this is the best guess.)

        The moral of Rapunzel is that you are what your mother eats, apparently.

        But also, don’t be too uptight; why not let your hair down sometimes?

        What’s the longest you’ve ever grown your hair?  (And yes, beards count too, in case ZZ Top is reading my blog.)  And how do you feel about macabre art, decor, or fashion?

[Picture: The Herb Rapunzel, rubber block print by AEGNydam, 2024 (Image from NydamPrints.com).]

L is for Landscape with Lisa

        (My A to Z Blog Challenge theme this year is Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns, my immanent collection of short stories, poems, and art inspired by fairy tales, myths, and folklore, being released on April 20.  All through the month I’m sharing excerpts of art, stories, and poetry, as well as some reflections on the power of the traditional stories that inspired me.  As for the other intrepid bloggers of the A to Z Challenge, be sure to check them out at the Master List.)

        Most of the stories that inspired pieces in my book are old: as ancient as the Bible or Greek mythology, or at least the fairy tales collected in the nineteenth century, many of which come from much older roots.  But some of the folklore in my “Other” category is a little more recent.  Take the Mona Lisa, for example.  She was painted by Leonardo da Vinci in the early sixteenth century, but she didn’t really become legend until the twentieth century.  Her fame was launched by her 1911 theft and eventual recovery, after which her mysterious smile and her astronomical monetary value turned her into arguably the most legendary work of art in the world.  So why shouldn’t I try my hand at imagining what’s behind that smile?  Here’s the beginning of my poem.

    The Mona Lisa never used to smile.

    She used to watch the landscape through the haze,

    And muse on wars fought over dream-bald peaks.

    She used to wonder that the paleworn road

    Wound always bare between the craggy rocks.

    She used to worry that the farmers' crops

    Were withering on the barren, dusty earth.

    She used to wince beneath the bruise-green sky,

    Forever heavy as before a storm…

        My block print version of the Mona Lisa is quite small, just a couple inches tall, and it’s a reduction print.  For me the interesting challenge wasn’t to try to copy the painting exactly (because we already have the original for that), but to play with simplifying it.  A reduction print is done with a single block that’s carved multiple times (in this case, just twice).  First I carved out everything that remains white, and printed with brown.  Then I carved the same block further, removing all the areas that remain brown, and printing on

top with black.  I find reduction prints to be a fun intellectual puzzle as well as an aesthetic one, although just two layers is trivial as these things go.  (If you're curious about reduction printing, you can see a more detailed process description in my posts Work in Progress - Reduction and Completed Reduction Print.)

        The moral of the Mona Lisa is that no one can resist an air of mystery.

        Therefore, keep ‘em guessing!

        Have you ever been to the Louvre and seen the Mona Lisa in person?  If so, were you impressed or underwhelmed?  And also, what’s your theory about her smile?

[Picture: La Giocondetta, rubber block reduction print by AEGNydam, 2023 (Image from NydamPrints.com).]

J is for Judgement

        (My A to Z Blog Challenge theme this year is Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns, my immanent collection of short stories, poems, and art inspired by fairy tales, myths, and folklore.  All through the month I’m sharing excerpts of art, stories, and poetry, as well as some reflections on the power of the traditional stories that inspired me.)

        The Judgement of Solomon is one of the most famous ancient stories of wisdom, but in case you’re not familiar with it, you can read it here.  It’s also the inspiration for one of the earliest pieces in my book Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns.  This one is actually a series of 5 poems, each from the point of view of a different character, and it’s probably one of my earlier attempts to imagine a myth from a genuinely human perspective, trying to feel the people not as stock characters merely fulfilling a role, but as humans living an actual experience.  The characters I chose are Solomon and the two women, of course, but also the infant himself, and the fifth character who’s merely implied: the swordsman ordered to divide the child.  How would you feel if you received such an order?  Here’s just a snippet of the swordsman’s poem:

     Well, I've squandered blood before,

     And laughed at the coppery smell, and sung

     At the deaths of my foes.  But a child?

        The illustration paired with these poems was not made to go with it.  It’s actually a self portrait with one of my own babies.  I titled it “The Whole World” because it’s trying to

express both how a parent is an infant’s entire universe, and how the converse can also be true: that a parent’s world can focus down to the infant, just as for the two women in this myth.

        The moral of the Judgement of Solomon is that genuine love is not selfish, but wants what’s best for the beloved.

        Also, half a baby is not, in fact, better than none.

        And here’s the big question: how should soldiers, law enforcement, and others respond when given an order that seems immoral?

        By the way, would you like to hear me read an excerpt from Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns?  On May 1 I’ll be participating in a live, on-line group author reading by Strong Women-Strange Worlds.  I’ll be one of 6 speculative fiction authors who each get to read for 8 minutes in a fun, interactive, FREE on-line event open to anyone with an internet connection and an imagination.  As I said, it’s free, but registration is required to get the zoom link, so do check it out.  I’d love to see some A to Z folks in the audience!  You can find all the information and the link to register here.

[Picture: The Whole World, rubber block print by AEGNydam, 2008 (Image from Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns).]

H is for Hades

        (My A to Z Blog Challenge theme this year is Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns, my new collection of short stories, poems, and art inspired by fairy tales, myths, and folklore, which is coming out this month!  All through April I’m sharing excerpts of art, stories, and poetry, as well as some reflections on the power of the traditional stories that inspired me.)

        The classical (Greek/Roman) myth of how Hades, god of the underworld, abducted Persephone, daughter of the goddess of harvest and fertility, has meant many things to many people.  I suggest you read my previous post about Persephone to see some of the range of interpretation and art inspired by the story, and if you need to read some various versions of the original myth, you can find them here.  As for my book, it includes two pieces of writing about the myth of Persephone, and they’re completely different takes on the story.  I wrote the poem first, in which I imagined the tale from the point of view of the Shades in the Underworld, bystanders who witnessed an injustice and failed to act.

     Three times we watch a seed to living lips,

     three times there is no cry, no warning, “Death.”

     We are no longer human and forget what we once were.

You can read the entire poem at my earlier post Persephone in Hades.

        My short story, on the other hand, came later after I began to think more about the personalities involved.  It’s from the point of view of Persephone, in which I’ve imagined her as a tough noir-style dame: a seductive, resourceful, manipulative, strong woman who knows how to get what she wants in a world not made for women, where you have to take matters into your own hands. 

     Most of the picture is in shadow, and if you want to know the whole story, you’ll have to look farther back.  Have you ever asked yourself what a grown woman was doing picking flowers all day?  Or for that matter, how a goddess could have been unaware of the implications of eating in the Underworld?  Of course you never asked.  No one ever does.  The party line is all innocent Maiden and pitiless brute, but there’s more to it than that…

        The thing about these ancient stories is that they’re not One Right Answer or one correct interpretation.  The reason they’ve stayed popular for so long is that they’re multi-layered and multi-faceted; every time you look at them from a different angle you see something else.  So there are a few traditional tales that have given rise to more than one re-imagining from me, and in those cases you should consider each piece to be independent: starting from the same point, but heading in a completely different direction.

        (As for this block print of Persephone, I tried to make it evoke a 1940s noir film poster.  I'm afraid that dramatic lighting is not my strong suit and I never get it exactly right, but at least I keep trying!)

        The moral of Hades is that if you see someone in trouble, be an up-stander!

        But also, things are not always as they appear.

        How do you feel about eating in the Underworld (or Faerie, which has similar mythology)?  Would you be able to resist that pomegranate?  Would you want to?

[Picture: Queen of the Underworld, rubber block print with watercolor by AEGNydam, 2025 (Image from NydamPrints.com).]

F is for Fairies

        (My A to Z Blog Challenge theme this year is Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns, my immanent collection of short stories, poems, and art inspired by fairy tales, myths, and folklore.  Plus, don’t forget to see what all my fellow A to Z bloggers are up to, at the Master List.)

        One of the iconic scenes in the famous fairy tale “The Sleeping Beauty” is when twelve fairies are invited to the christening of the princess to bestow their gifts… and of course one fairy is not invited.  (Need a refresher?  Read the fairy tale here.)  I love the way there are rules to the fairies’ magic: each gets to bestow one and only one gift, and one fairy cannot simply reverse or eliminate another fairy’s gift, but you can tweak it…  But another thing that’s interesting about this fairy tale episode is that not all the gifts are listed.  In fact, all we get are virtue, beauty, and riches, until the appearance of the thirteenth fairy and her curse.  So I decided to imagine what all 13 fairies bestowed, and why.  I wrote a poem explaining each gift, and to keep things interesting I tried to use a wide variety of different poetic forms, as well.  (Originally I’d thought I’d use 13 different forms, but I have to confess that I ended up with a few repeats.)  Some of these poems are quite short, such as the very first one:

Beauty.

Tyranny of eyes

To dictate what deserves esteem.

Despot vision demands its due,

And we obey.  I must give

Beauty.

While others are longer, including a villanelle (goodness) and a couple of sonnets (sense of humor, and the final mitigation of the curse).  The block print I give you today is the Seventh Fairy.  Can you guess what gift she’s bestowing on the princess?  I’m not sure she was present at my birth, but she definitely visited my children!

        Of course F is also for Fairy Tale, the single largest section of my book.  To see more about why I love fairy tales and what I’m doing with them in Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns, you can read this prior post about Giving Fairy Tales a Kick.

        The moral of Sleeping Beauty is that you should be sure to invite all the fairies.  (E. Nesbit has a great short story, “Melisande,” about what happens if you don’t invite any of them!  I highly recommend reading it here.)

        Also, even with the best-laid plans, it’s good to be flexible and have a back-up plan waiting to step up if necessary.

        The great biologist and environmentalist Rachel Carson wrote, “If I had influence with the good fairy who is supposed to preside over the christening of all children, I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life.”  If you were a fairy, what wish would you bestow on a baby?

[Picture: The Seventh Fairy, rubber block print by AEGNydam, 2025 (Image from NydamPrints.com).]