I wrote this poem for the love of my life, the greatest soul I have ever met, my Wife, Evelyn Marie. She is my “Ismeral”, and this is my love song to her. (included in “The Glove of Rhonan”)

All my love.

Ismeral Bohnhi (Evelyn Marie)

I will sing of my love, my Ismeral Bohnhi,
With light in her eyes, lips sweet as honey.

Bloom on her cheek, shoulder as silk,
Temples of jewels, teeth white as milk.

To tell you of Sun, Moon, and Stars in the skies,
I will tell you of Ismeral with light in her eyes.

The Islands her anklet, the Forests her gown,
The Mountains her throne, the Heavens her crown.

The Deep for her Wisdom, Four Winds for her Breath,
Her smile is life, her scorn is death.

Clothed in Royal Gardens, perfumed with rare spice,
Is Ismeral, fair Ismeral with Light in her eyes.

A shake of her Head, her hair tumbles down,
Her tresses enslave me, chain me to her Crown.

With tenderest Bosom she soothes the Child,
With fiery passion she sets free the Wild.

The Song of her laughter, the brush of her hand,
And I am King, I am Conqueror, no mortal Man.

What worth have I to be double born, triple blest,
Crowned by her Vows, healed with her caress?

To feast at her Table, to drink from her Fountains,
Entitled to Seas, to Heavens and Mountains,

That the Light in her eyes should shine there for me,
With Heaven’s kiss from the lips of Ismeral Bohnhi!

Her strength empowers, her beauty refines,
She nurtures the common, bestows the Divine.

In her Earth meets Heaven, the Unseen the Seen,
She is Time and Eternity, Life, Wife, and Queen.

I am more than I was, less than I shall be,
Lifted by love of Ismeral Bohnhi.

So I sing of Ismeral with Light in her eyes,
Speak freely of Sun, Moon, and Stars in the skies.

Drunk with her love, quickened by her grace,
Invincible by her Hand, held captive by her face.

Rejoice blanded world, Enlightened now we see,
Lent to us Heaven’s Life and Love, Ismeral Bohnhi.

I am more than I was, less than I shall be, lifted by love of Evelyn Marie.

One of my favorite minor characters in “The Glove of Rhonan” is a small dragon named Aven. Her character and her grief have made her great.

(Ashpelk is the newly returned Kingdragon “good guy”, Ost is the tyrant Faldimon’s Kingdragon general “bad guy”, and all dragonkind new the short prophecy that predicted Ashpelk’s return to their lands)

Aven was ready. She had asked, even pleaded for this assignment, and was completely prepared. She had practiced at every opportunity among the peaks and the tall trees, honing her skills, making her plans, and saying her prayers. Now at last, at long last, the Day had arrived. She was so excited that she couldn’t be still, and her heart was aflutter in her breast. So it was, when she heard the sound of battle, that with the greatest of enthusiasm she launched herself from a high ledge among the peaks of Bohnhi and flew swiftly toward the chaos unfolding in the narrow pass below.

Flying close to the cliffs, she used updrafts to maintain altitude and jagged rocks for cover as she made her way into striking range. She went over her plan again mentally for the hundredth time. She knew her talons were sharp, her glands were full, and her heart was prepared. All she needed was her target.

There it was! Her sharp eyes had located the center of the melee below, and easily spotted the object of her mission. Faldimon stood amid a tangled mass of soldiers and swarthians, battling against a group of her kinsmen, the dragons. She could see the glint of swinging steel and the flash of dragonfire as she circled high overhead, a mere speck in the sky from the battlefield below. She could see her flying kinsmen darting in and out of the battle, doing what damage they could, and trying to draw the attention of Faldimon’s personal guard away from him.

Aven dropped in altitude and banked against the breeze to take careful aim at her target, Faldimon.

Faldimon  – tyrant over as many peoples as he could conquer; Faldimon  – who had taken the life of her precious Shara with no more thought than if she had been an insect; Faldimon  – who dared to wear Ashpelk’s Climmon! Well, today he would reap a bit of what he had sown, as a small, determined dragon streaked through the mountain air.

She would hit him on the right side, away from the Glove, and do as much damage to him as she possibly could before… well, before she was with Shara again.

There he was, directly in front of her. She saw Faldimon barking orders to his guards as the battle swirled around him, and saw with pride her fellow dragons fighting with great ferocity. Carefully selecting her angle of attack, she adjusted her speed and focused all her attention on her target.

Coming in fast and low from behind Faldimon’s right shoulder, the tiny dragon plowed into her foe with all her might, knocking him instantly to the ground. She leaped on him before he could recover, sinking her needle-sharp claws into his right arm. Faldimon screamed in pain and turned to look at his attacker. Face to face with her enemy, Aven spewed the total contents of her glands at him. She snapped at his ears, clawed at his eyes, and battered him with her wings, venting her rage and taking her revenge.

Then he had her. Gripping her by the back leg with the crushing power of the Climmon Hur, Faldimon slung her to the ground and aimed the Glove at her. Lurching to the side, she barely escaped being torched by the blast from the Climmon, the force knocking many swarthians into the air.

But she was quick, she was determined, and she could feel the smile of Providence on her heart.

She jumped toward him, and with a mighty flap of her tattered wings once again latched onto her enemy. Once again she found herself in the clutches of the Glove, this time wrapped around her neck and breast. A cursing Faldimon held her at arm’s length and prepared to slam her onto the ground, but just before he did, she was able to let fly one last puff of air, and a small ball of fire.

What joy filled her heart as she watched, seemingly in slow motion, as her enemy’s acid-covered face ignited in flames. She was still laughing even when she was thrown to the ground. Although lying broken and crumpled like an old parchment, through her pain she could hear her foe calling for help, calling for Ost, the traitor.

With great effort she rolled onto her back, and looking up, saw the most beautiful blue sky she had ever seen. She remembered the fat mice she and Shara used to hunt together and wondered if the mice were fat where Shara was.

Then she saw the sinister face of Ost. He was mouthing something at her that she couldn’t hear, but she didn’t care. She watched in detachment as Ost raised his huge clawed foot over her, but before he could bring it crashing down, she screamed out a message of her own.

“Ashpelk returns!”

The last thing she saw was most gratifying; a flash of fear in the eyes of Ost.

I am small
Everything outside me, bigger.
But, everything inside me, bigger still!

~Aven