Wednesday, February 2, 2011

All Power to Bess and Her Highwayman

Winter Superstorm meows, it’s here, my gorgeously intelligent KitKats... yes, the winds howled, north to south, it’s a blowing snow fog blizzard... but, so far... who knows, maybe there will be foots of snow on the tame prairie, since it’s howling and snowing out there now. And cold! Oh, take care, wherever you are. Yes, this Big Cat loves ya!

Yep, drifts of snow about four feet high now. Happy February!

All Power to Bess and Her Highwayman ~ The Highwayman was a popular poem during this Big Cat’s growing up years. Not only is this poem branded in her memory, but an incredible illustration [frustratingly not found on the web] of Bess tied to the bedpost, remains fairly vivid, as well.

While the Kougaress absolutely loved this poem, she also felt deeply conflicted and sad because of the ending... maybe, the time has come to rewrite, as has been done in many a romance novel, Bess and her Highwayman’s victory over the oppressive forces of government. Once again.

Why now? Martial law checkpoints are happening all over our beloved country, and being phased in as normal. Yeah, east germany and banana republic here we come.

Not only that, the so-called authorities can now be in plain clothes... what the heck??? If they’re in plain clothes how do you even know they’re the police, or state troopers, or the army??? And, why wouldn’t you fight back against someone you don’t know??? It’s certainly not enough to identify yourself as some sort of marital law authority. Because anyone can do that. Including a Highwayman on the side of the people.

The Highwayman

The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding--
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.

He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead, and a bunch of lace at his chin;
He'd a coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of fine doe-skin.
They fitted with never a wrinkle; his boots were up to his thigh!
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle--
His rapier hilt a-twinkle--
His pistol butts a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred,
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter--
Bess, the landlord's daughter--
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

Dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim, the ostler listened--his face was white and peaked--
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter--
The landlord's black-eyed daughter;
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say:

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart; I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light.
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

He stood upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair in the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the sweet black waves of perfume came tumbling o'er his breast,
Then he kissed its waves in the moonlight
(O sweet black waves in the moonlight!),
And he tugged at his reins in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.

He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon.
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon over the purple moor,
The redcoat troops came marching--
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord; they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed.
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets by their side;
There was Death at every window,
And Hell at one dark window,
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.

They had bound her up at attention, with many a sniggering jest!
They had tied a rifle beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say,
"Look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though Hell should bar the way."

She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it, she strove no more for the rest;
Up, she stood up at attention, with the barrel beneath her breast.
She would not risk their hearing, she would not strive again,
For the road lay bare in the moonlight,
Blank and bare in the moonlight,
And the blood in her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love's refrain.

Tlot tlot, tlot tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hooves, ringing clear;
Tlot tlot, tlot tlot, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding--
The redcoats looked to their priming! She stood up straight and still.

Tlot tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment, she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight--
Her musket shattered the moonlight--
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him--with her death.

He turned, he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the casement, drenched in her own red blood!
Not till the dawn did he hear it, and his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs in the golden noon, wine-red was his velvet coat
When they shot him down in the highway,
Down like a dog in the highway,
And he lay in his blood in the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.

And still on a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a gypsy's ribbon looping the purple moor,
The highwayman comes riding--
The highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred,
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter--
Bess, the landlord's daughter--
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

Alfred Noyes

[Found at Poetry]

Big Cat by-the-numbers ~

2:12 am... 2:22 am... 3:33 am... 5:55 am... 1:11 pm... 2:22 pm... 1:11 am... the unrest is only beginning... freedom is here.

Authoress news and mews ~


Year of the Rabbit Goddess

Shishaza stepped from the intergalactic jet onto the silvery granite platform. Standing high above the landing-port city, she sniffed the paradisiacal air of Atlantis.

Her nose quivered with the abundance of blossoms. She adored their fragrances, and planned on nibbling a banquet of petals at her leisure.

From ~

A Whirlwind Week of Astrological Action!

February kicks off with a bang as seven planets - yes, seven! - vie for your attention. Venus, Neptune, Uranus, the Moon, the Sun, Mars and Saturn all want to remind you of their existence, and they only have four days to do so. Get ready for a whirlwind!

The action begins February 2, when romantic Venus links up with dreamy Neptune to bring you a few moments of pure bliss. Enjoy them while you can, though, because just as quickly, the mood will change once Venus saddles up to Uranus in a pairing that prefers freedom and flirtation to closeness.

Then, overnight and into February 3, the Sun will pair up with the Aquarius Moon, a transit indicating that it's time to get your heart and head moving in the same direction. This New Moon will demand that you totally focus your energy and determination if you want the results you're after!

The following day, Mars steps up to the Sun in Aquarius, and Venus transitions into Capricorn. Mars will encourage stubbornness and avoid compromise; Venus, meanwhile, will require some level of achievement in order to be happy, and life will become all about sophistication. These sentiments will continue until Saturn enters the mix on February 6, bringing a sense of balance. More specifically, Saturn will act to temper Mars' influence, while enhancing that of Venus.

The key rules for the week? Play hard ? and work even harder. Don't let trivial stuff get to you. Focus on the big picture and channel your energy into constructive projects. With Venus around, spending some extra time on yourself could have more desirable - and romantic - results than you may have originally expected.

Now ~ FIRST! just for the big cool cats ~ from the Flash Cat...

Happy Courtship on another Earth

X-Serial Flash in Two Hundred ~ Sylva and Zeke’s story continues...

Part 764 ~

Sylva pushed her big toe up Zeke’s foot. “I’m betting ole Joe wouldn’t mind a glass of the good stuff. Especially if he doesn’t have to pay.” She watched her cowboy smile slow and fine. She almost yielded to her an impulse, and leaped toward him, kissing his lips. Instead she massaged the ball of his foot with her toe. “Yup. Joe had that in mind. Exactly. Once the Pinkerton sauntered through the swingin’ doors, Joe spoke up, orderin’ a shot of Barth’s best whiskey. Well, Barth eyed him, but didn’t say nothin’. Nope. He just uncorked the good stuff.”

Zeke felt his muscles surrender to the warm bubbling water, and he felt something indefinable in him surrender to his woman’s obvious willingness to care about him, to please him. Not to mention what she was doin’ felt so dang good he almost felt guilty. Yet, he knew she gave to him freely. That it was also part of their feverish passion for each other. ‘Always pay attention to those subtle signals’, his dad’s words sounded in his mind. ‘Whether it’s a horse a woman, son, always pay attention to the subtle signals.’ “Then, splashed the whiskey in a new glass.”
The Kougar’s prior flashes are also available at the Passionate Ink forum, the FREE READS page ~ ~ Or, The Romance Studio Forum, JANUARY 2009 through JUNE 2010 flashes ~ ~ Click on the FORUMS, then Savanna Kougar ~ the Fantasy Lair ~


Some good news ~

The horrific VACCINE HOAX perpetrated on all of us for the last ONE HUNDRED YEARS is being exposed!!!

The bad news ~

OBTW, the good ole gov is HOARDING colossal amounts of food now. Hey, DON’T YOU DARE HOARD! No, you’re psychologically sick and evil if you HOARD, but we, the gov, can hoard as much as we want... then we can dole it out like you’re our slaves... we can make you beg for it, kill for it, and we don’t even have to let you have any... hey, wake up! don’t let the gov have it, hoard all the food and good stuff you can!!! In most cases, YOU won’t be on their list to feed.

The most powerful weapon is the human soul on fire. ALL POWER TO THE PEOPLE!


May you live the dreams of your heart...

Highway Woman kisses from the Kougar...


Serena Shay said...

Great poem, sad ending. Or maybe the beginning to an interesting paranormal romance or a paranormal romance poem? Hmmm

Savanna Kougar said...

Serena, had you read it before? Yep, the Highwayman as a hero has starred in many a historical romance. A futuristic erotic romance novel with a HighwayWoman and/or a Highwayman could be fun-fierce to write.

Serena Shay said...

Actually, the poem sounds very familiar. I'd be willing to bet I read it in my college poetry was wonderful to read it again on your blog. :)