POEMS (or other sundry quotes) that remind you of ASOIAF

[Quoth the raven,]

The Raven

[Lady of Harmony]

This is my 2nd ever post here, although I have spent many and more hours reading all the great posts. I have always wanted to post in this thread so here goes. 

 

AWOL Nation - Knights of Shame 

Resonates on so many levels. It's way better if you listen to it. But it's basically a word for word recap of ASOIAF. 

 

 

Dance, baby, dance
Like the world is ending
Dance, baby, dance
Like the world is ending
Dance, baby, dance
'Cause the world is ending
[x4]

This is who you are
[x6]

Oh, oh

Sit back and look for the warnings
The future's bright and alarming
Sit back and look for the warnings
[x2]

Go
Woo
Huh
Cool

Uh,
Baby walkin' around with your head cut off
Baby walkin' around with your head cut off
[x2]

Their power is fear
And it surrounds me
Their signs, you can see
One day we will wake the walking zombies
'Til then we pray
Oo

Everybody
Everybody

The king and his ghost are laughing at me
These signs, you can see
One day we will listen for the sirens
'Til then we pray

Skeletons
Marching army
Guns
Drop your feet
I'm scared
I'm Duke Ellington
My mother said there'd be days like this
But one of the fires lit made her piss
Climbing are zombies
All up inside me
Transformin' vampires
Right beside me
And you can't run
'Cause, you do, you'll be dead
And them walls can't roll from the side of my head
I beat the drool
I beat the ghouls
But his last kiss
All suckers
They will cease to exist
I can't entertain with a beat up human
Lay waste to cities
Leave towns in ruin
I
Am a
Ro-
Bot
Whole arsenal stock
Ready to blow
Lastly you see:
Me, be three by three
Firing these things called TNT

Fire these things called TNT
These things called TNT
They call me TNT
These things called TNT

Uh,
We can dance like the world's over
Yeah, it's almost twenty twelve
Call your girls over
Let's kick back
Pop shots
Have a ball
And if the world blow up
Next life, we do it all over
Uh, yeah, let's toast to the memory
I wrote my name in the sky, so remember me
Baby, forever we
Together mentally
The day I leave me baby over somethin'
Then hell'll freeze
Froze
This world cold, like Natalie
So
Let's lose our clothes like L.E.
Back to the basics
Step out the matrix
Step out your cool
Baby, get on my spaceship
I seen her face lit
She seen a sign like a mace is
So we ran home like a bass hit
Safe
Life is whatever you think it is
Yo, what you think this is?

Uh, yeah it's all in your mind baby
You gotta do what you feel, like a blind lady
You gotta spread your wings and just fly, baby
It feel like you're reborn?
That's my baby
She said she feel it in her soul like a vibrator
I got some things for your thoughts we can try later
Let's hit the dance floor
Right before we out of time
And just party like it's nineteen ninety nine
You know what Prince said
Girl, you my princess
I got the glass slipper
I hope the thing fits
Your body on fire
Let me extinguish
Hop on this white horse
Ride to the sunset

Is anybody really
Out
There
Breathin'
Is anybody really
Sick
Of
Bleedin'
So come and scream into the
Sky
This
Evening
And 'fore the morning I'mma
Touch
Your
Feeling
(Ha)
Let's start today
(Thank you, alright)
Let's start today
(Woo, ah, yeah)
Let's start today
(Ha ha, yeah, wooo, ok)
Let's start today

Start today
Start today
Come on down

The queen's heart
The knights of shame
The people's voice
So we pray and we pray

The queen's heart
The knights of shame
So we pray and we pray

The queen's heart
The people's voice
So we pray and we pray

The queen's heart
The knights of shame
So we pray, oh

Ooooooo

And yeah, it's no fun living for the fall
And there'll be no more waiting for you all
And there'll be one more chance for the truth
Without you
I would die
[x2]

Without you
I would die

Waiting on a heartbeat
Is anybody listening?
We're waiting on a heartbeat
Can anybody hear me?
[x2]

[ravenous reader]

14 hours ago, Quoth the raven, said:

The Raven

Hello hello hello @Quoth the raven,...Welcome to our poetry thread!  

Yes, you would be reminded of that poem, wouldn't you?     I've reproduced it below for those unfamiliar with it.

 

 

GRRM definitely seems to be referencing 'The Raven' in a number of ways.  @evita mgfs has suggested that the ranger 'Gared' in the Prologue is a nod to 'Edgar (Allan Poe)', just as 'Will' is a clear salute to another famous writer, William Shakespeare; read about her thoughts in this respect here (we think the third ranger who 'outlives' the others, namely 'Waymar Royce' in the marten/sable coat, is a reference to GRRM himself, but as @Blue Tiger has suggested it might alternatively be a reference to James Joyce!). Then, there's also the infamous talking raven at the Night's Watch, the 'bloody bird' addressed as 'wretch' (just as the bird in the poem) who seems to have a keen interest in watching over the politics of the Watch, hanging about its Lord Commanders -- with an annoying preference for delivering its interjected critiques in the form of cryptic asides typically uttered in triplets, in which one word is repeated three times rather ominously, in similar fashion to Poe's raven.  

Quote

A Storm of Swords - Prologue

"Chett," said Small Paul as they trudged along a stony game trail through sentinels and soldier pines, "what about the bird?"

"What bloody bird?" The last thing he needed now was some mutton-head going on about a bird.

"The Old Bear's raven," Small Paul said. "If we kill him, who's going to feed his bird?" [LOL...following Mormont's assassination, Paul ends up wighted with the raven on his shoulder taking bites out of his face!]

 

Quote

A Dance with Dragons - Jon II

Samwell Tarly turned up a few moments later, clutching a stack of books. No sooner had he entered than Mormont's raven flew at him demanding corn. Sam did his best to oblige, offering some kernels from the sack beside the door. The raven did its best to peck through his palm. Sam yowled, the bird flapped off, corn scattered. "Did that wretch break the skin?" Jon asked.

Sam gingerly removed his glove. "He did. I'm bleeding."

Someone also mentioned that Drogon pulls a stunt similar to Poe's raven, when he perches above the door in the House of the Undying and bites the wood.  Like Poe's raven who perches above the chamber door on the bust of the goddess Athena, symbolising or perhaps mocking the poem's narrator in his search for wisdom, Drogon makes a mockery of the House of the Undying, where Dany has entered seeking enlightenment, lured in by their tempting offers of knowledge, but instead receives only cryptic answers from the 'prophets.'

Quote

A Clash of Kings - Daenerys IV

"We have knowledge to share with you," said a warrior in shining emerald armor, "and magic weapons to arm you with. You have passed every trial. Now come and sit with us, and all your questions shall be answered."

She took a step forward. But then Drogon leapt from her shoulder. He flew to the top of the ebony-and-weirwood door, perched there, and began to bite at the carved wood.

"A willful beast," laughed a handsome young man. "Shall we teach you the secret speech of dragonkind? Come, come."

Thus, ravens and dragons are clearly aligned symbolically.  Interestingly, dragons in addition to ravens are associated with a secret language.

There's also the lost 'Lenore' in the poem whom some have suggested is alluded to in Septa 'Lemore'!

Finally, there's this passage, as Seams has highlighted, which has echoes of Poe's poem, particularly the technique of punctuating the end of a sentence with a triplet:

Quote

A Clash of Kings - Arya X

"As you say, my lord."

The lord and maester swept from the room, giving her not so much as a backward glance. When they were gone, Arya took the letter and carried it to the hearth, stirring the logs with a poker to wake the flames anew. She watched the parchment twist, blacken, and flare up. If the Lannisters hurt Bran and Rickon, Robb will kill them every one. He'll never bend the knee, never, never, never. He's not afraid of any of them. Curls of ash floated up the chimney. Arya squatted beside the fire, watching them rise through a veil of hot tears. If Winterfell is truly gone, is this my home now? Am I still Arya, or only Nan the serving girl, for forever and forever and forever?

 

Judging from your choice of avatar name, you seem to be familiar with this poem -- any further thoughts to add?

 

 

The Raven

 

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, 

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore— 

    While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, 

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. 

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door— 

            Only this and nothing more.” 

 

    Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; 

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. 

    Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow 

    From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore— 

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore— 

            Nameless here for evermore. 

 

    And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain 

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; 

    So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating 

    “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door— 

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;— 

            This it is and nothing more.” 

 

    Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, 

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; 

    But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, 

    And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, 

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;— 

            Darkness there and nothing more. 

 

    Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, 

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; 

    But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, 

    And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?” 

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”— 

            Merely this and nothing more. 

 

    Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, 

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. 

    “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice; 

      Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore— 

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;— 

            ’Tis the wind and nothing more!” 

 

    Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, 

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore; 

    Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; 

    But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door— 

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door— 

            Perched, and sat, and nothing more. 

 

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, 

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, 

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven, 

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore— 

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!” 

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” 

 

    Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, 

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore; 

    For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being 

    Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door— 

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, 

            With such name as “Nevermore.” 

 

    But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only 

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. 

    Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered— 

    Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before— 

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.” 

            Then the bird said “Nevermore.” 

 

    Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, 

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store 

    Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster 

    Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore— 

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore 

            Of ‘Never—nevermore’.” 

 

    But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, 

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door; 

    Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking 

    Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore— 

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore 

            Meant in croaking “Nevermore.” 

 

    This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing 

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core; 

    This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining 

    On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er, 

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er, 

            She shall press, ah, nevermore! 

 

    Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer 

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. 

    “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee 

    Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore; 

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!” 

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” 

 

    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!— 

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, 

    Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted— 

    On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore— 

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!” 

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” 

 

    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil! 

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore— 

    Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, 

    It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore— 

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.” 

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” 

 

    “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting— 

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore! 

    Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! 

    Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door! 

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!” 

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” 

 

    And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting 

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; 

    And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, 

    And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; 

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor 

            Shall be lifted—nevermore!

 

-- EDGAR ALLAN POE

 

 

[Unchained]

11 hours ago, ravenous reader said:

any further thoughts to add?

I have not given this thread its deserved attention.  It is exactly what I am lagging in the most and very interesting.  I am working throught the comments now.  

 

The Raven is one of the few poems I would say I am familiar with.  I have a spitballing level thought about it.  Hodor = Nevermore.

 

Both the Raven and Hodor only say one word and are named after it.  If 'everyone knows what' happens in the books then that word will become both haunting and door associated.  Plus he carries around a kid who's name means "crow" among 1000 other things.      

[ravenous reader]

23 hours ago, Lady of Harmony said:

This is my 2nd ever post here, although I have spent many and more hours reading all the great posts. I have always wanted to post in this thread so here goes. 

Thanks @Lady of Harmony -- you honor me by posting in my thread!  And let me extend a warm welcome to the forum .

Quote

AWOL Nation - Knights of Shame 

Resonates on so many levels. It's way better if you listen to it. But it's basically a word for word recap of ASOIAF. 

Your contribution brought a smile to my face -- that's certainly a most upbeat way to approach the end of the world!  I have attached the song below for those who would like to listen, sing or dance along...

 

 

I have parsed my associations in red:

Quote

 

Dance, baby, dance
Like the world is ending
Dance, baby, dance
Like the world is ending
Dance, baby, dance
'Cause the world is ending
[x4]

-- The Long Night(s)

-- Waymar vs. the Other in the Prologue: 'Dance with me then'

-- Arthur Dayne vs. Eddard Stark:  'Now it begins...Now it ends...They came together in a rush of steel and shadow...'

-- Syrio Forel to Arya:  'Now we will begin the dance...the water dance, the bravo's dance, swift and sudden.   All men are made of water, do you know this? When you pierce them, the water leaks out and they die.'
 

This is who you are
[x6]

-- Kindly Man to Arya:  'Who are you?...'  'No one.'

-- Theon/Reek:  'You have to know your name.'

Oh, oh

-- Patchface:  'Under the sea...I know, I know, oh, oh, oh'!
 

Sit back and look for the warnings
The future's bright and alarming
Sit back and look for the warnings
[x2]

-- Who else but Melisandre?!

Go
Woo
Huh
Cool

Uh,
Baby walkin' around with your head cut off
Baby walkin' around with your head cut off
[x2]

-- So many candidates for this one; but the quintessential guy who lost his head in more ways than one ('the madness of mercy') -- and also the one who left behind the longest shadow in his wake--  was Ned.

--Littlefinger to Ned:  

A Game of Thrones - Eddard IV

"Often, and with some heat," Ned said, hoping that would end it. He had no patience with this game they played, this dueling with words.

"I should have thought that heat ill suits you Starks," Littlefinger said. "Here in the south, they say you are all made of ice, and melt when you ride below the Neck."

Their power is fear
And it surrounds me
Their signs, you can see
One day we will wake the walking zombies
'Til then we pray
Oo

-- @LmL's 'Skinchanger Zombies' hypothesis about the resurrected Night's Watch 'Last Hero' and his companions securing the War for the Dawn!

 
Everybody
Everybody

The king and his ghost are laughing at me
These signs, you can see

-- Jon and his Ghost, 'a second life fit for a king'

One day we will listen for the sirens
'Til then we pray

-- the 'Sirens':  all those alluring voices of the singers of dubious repute; and the critical sound heralding salvation -- and/or the apocalypse...:

-- Littlefinger:  'sometimes a harp in the right hands can be as dangerous as a sword'

-- the Children of the Forest: 'It was a woman's voice, high and sweet, with a strange music in it like none that he had ever heard and a sadness that he thought might break his heart.'

-- the dragonbinder Horn:  'Sharp as a swordthrust, the sound of a horn split the air.  Bright and baneful was its voice, a shivering hot scream that made a man's bones seem to thrum within him. The cry lingered in the damp sea air: aaaaRREEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.''

-- the original sin: " 'Nissa Nissa,' he said to her, for that was her name, 'bare your breast, and know that I love you best of all that is in this world.' She did this thing, why I cannot say, and Azor Ahai thrust the smoking sword through her living heart. It is said that her cry of anguish and ecstasy left a crack across the face of the moon."

Skeletons
Marching army
Guns
Drop your feet
I'm scared
I'm Duke Ellington
My mother said there'd be days like this

-- Sam the Scared/Sam the Slayer:  "Scared? Of what? The chidings of old men? Sam, you saw the wights come swarming up the Fist, a tide of living dead men with black hands and bright blue eyes. You slew an Other."

"It was the d-d-d-dragonglass, not me."

But one of the fires lit made her piss

-- Dragon pyre, particularly Quentyn and his encounter with the 'coiled Stygian darkness' and that 'wild card' of dragons, Rhaegal:

' And then a hot wind buffeted him and he heard the sound of leathern wings and the air was full of ash and cinders and a monstrous roar went echoing off the scorched and blackened bricks and he could hear his friends shouting wildly. Gerris was calling out his name, over and over, and the big man was bellowing, “Behind you, behind you, behind you!”

  Quentyn turned and threw his left arm across his face to shield his eyes from the furnace wind. Rhaegal, he reminded himself, the green one is Rhaegal.

  When he raised his whip, he saw that the lash was burning. His hand as well. All of him, all of him was burning.'

  Oh, he thought. Then he began to scream.

Climbing are zombies

-- 'Ice spiders'

All up inside me
Transformin' vampires
Right beside me
And you can't run

-- Poor Hodor cowering as he's being skinchanged by Bran

'Cause, you do, you'll be dead
And them walls can't roll from the side of my head
I beat the drool
I beat the ghouls
But his last kiss
All suckers
They will cease to exist
I can't entertain with a beat up human
Lay waste to cities
Leave towns in ruin
I
Am a
Ro-
Bot
Whole arsenal stock
Ready to blow
Lastly you see:
Me, be three by three
Firing these things called TNT

-- Tyrion and Aerys's 'fickle wildfire fruits'!

Fire these things called TNT
These things called TNT
They call me TNT
These things called TNT

Uh,
We can dance like the world's over
Yeah, it's almost twenty twelve
Call your girls over
Let's kick back
Pop shots
Have a ball
And if the world blow up

-- The Battle of Blackwater / Siege of Kings Landing:  'Musicians played. Jugglers juggled. Moon Boy lurched about the hall on stilts making mock of everyone, while Ser Dontos chased serving girls on his broomstick horse. The guests laughed, but it was a joyless laughter, the sort of laughter that can turn into sobbing in half a heartbeat. Their bodies are here, but their thoughts are on the city walls, and their hearts as well.'

Next life, we do it all over

-- How history repeats itself:  '"Archmaester Rigney once wrote that history is a wheel, for the nature of man is fundamentally unchanging. What has happened before will perforce happen again, he said. I think of that whenever I contemplate the Crow's Eye. Euron Greyjoy sounds queerly like Urron Greyiron to these old ears. I shall not go to Old Wyk. Nor should you."

-- “A way a lone a last a loved a long the riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.”
― James Joyce, Finnegans Wake

Uh, yeah, let's toast to the memory
I wrote my name in the sky, so remember me

-- Lyanna 'promise me...forget-me-not':  '...he could hear Lyanna screaming. "Eddard!" she called. A storm of rose petals blew across a blood-streaked sky, as blue as the eyes of death.  "Lord Eddard," Lyanna called again.'

-- the comet like 'a scratch across the face of god':  '"You can see it by day now. My men call it the Red Messenger . . . but what is the message?"

Catelyn raised her eyes, to where the faint red line of the comet traced a path across the deep blue sky like a long scratch across the face of god.

 

Baby, forever we
Together mentally
The day I leave me baby over somethin'
Then hell'll freeze

-- 'A frozen hell reserved for Starks'

Froze
This world cold, like Natalie
So
Let's lose our clothes like L.E.
Back to the basics
Step out the matrix
Step out your cool
Baby, get on my spaceship

-- Bran:  'going beyond the trees', (stepping out the matrix = transcending the 'weirnet') 'beyond the curtain of light' and 'flying' as Bloodraven foretold  -- his first and last flight, as I've predicted
 

I seen her face lit
She seen a sign like a mace is
So we ran home like a bass hit
Safe
Life is whatever you think it is
Yo, what you think this is?

Uh, yeah it's all in your mind baby

-- The psychopaths Varys and Littlefinger explaining their tricks of the trade:

'power is a mummer's trick... a shadow on the wall'

 

'Robert was not strong and had to be protected, even from the truth. "Some lies are love," Petyr had assured her. She reminded him of that. "When we lied to Lord Robert, that was just to spare him," she said.

"And this lie may spare us. Else you and I must leave the Eyrie by the same door Lysa used." Petyr picked up his quill again. "We shall serve him lies and Arbor gold, and he'll drink them down and ask for more, I promise you."

He is serving me lies as well, Sansa realized. They were comforting lies, though, and she thought them kindly meant. A lie is not so bad if it is kindly meant.

You gotta do what you feel, like a blind lady
You gotta spread your wings and just fly, baby
It feel like you're reborn?

-- the one-and-only resplendent Dany:  

"… want to wake the dragon …"

Ghosts lined the hallway, dressed in the faded raiment of kings. In their hands were swords of pale fire. They had hair of silver and hair of gold and hair of platinum white, and their eyes were opal and amethyst, tourmaline and jade. "Faster," they cried, "faster, faster." She raced, her feet melting the stone wherever they touched. "Faster!" the ghosts cried as one, and she screamed and threw herself forward. A great knife of pain ripped down her back, and she felt her skin tear open and smelled the stench of burning blood and saw the shadow of wings. And Daenerys Targaryen flew.

That's my baby

She said she feel it in her soul like a vibrator
I got some things for your thoughts we can try later
Let's hit the dance floor

-- Melisandre;  'The red priestess shuddered. Blood trickled down her thigh, black and smoking. The fire was inside her, an agony, an ecstasy, filling her, searing her, transforming her. Shimmers of heat traced patterns on her skin, insistent as a lover's hand. Strange voices called to her from days long past. "Melony," she heard a woman cry. A man's voice called, "Lot Seven." She was weeping, and her tears were flame. And still she drank it in.'

Right before we out of time
And just party like it's nineteen ninety nine
You know what Prince said
Girl, you my princess
I got the glass slipper
I hope the thing fits
Your body on fire
Let me extinguish
Hop on this white horse
Ride to the sunset

-- Dany on her 'silver' like the wind, to the 'darkling stream'...and the Dothraki belief of the final ride to the stars after death:  ' If I stay here, I will die. I may be dying now. Would the horse god of the Dothraki part the grass and claim her for his starry khalasar, so she might ride the nightlands with Khal Drogo? In Westeros the dead of House Targaryen were given to the flames, but who would light her pyre here?'

Is anybody really
Out
There
Breathin'

-- the inscrutable presence of the greenseers in the woods:  'When the wind blew, he could hear the creak and groan of branches older than he was. A thousand leaves fluttered, and for a moment the forest seemed a deep green sea, storm-tossed and heaving, eternal and unknowable.'

Is anybody really
Sick
Of
Bleedin'

-- the 'broken men':  

"And the man breaks.

"He turns and runs, or crawls off afterward over the corpses of the slain, or steals away in the black of night, and he finds someplace to hide. All thought of home is gone by then, and kings and lords and gods mean less to him than a haunch of spoiled meat that will let him live another day, or a skin of bad wine that might drown his fear for a few hours. The broken man lives from day to day, from meal to meal, more beast than man. Lady Brienne is not wrong. In times like these, the traveler must beware of broken men, and fear them . . . but he should pity them as well."

So come and scream into the
Sky
This
Evening
And 'fore the morning I'mma
Touch
Your
Feeling
(Ha)
Let's start today
(Thank you, alright)
Let's start today
(Woo, ah, yeah)
Let's start today
(Ha ha, yeah, wooo, ok)
Let's start today

Start today
Start today
Come on down

The queen's heart

-- The Queen of Love and Beauty, when 'all the smiles died'

-- Cersei's heartlessness

The knights of shame

-- Jaime, Barristan, Arthur Dayne, and the other 'soiled knights'

The people's voice
So we pray and we pray

The queen's heart
The knights of shame
So we pray and we pray

The queen's heart
The people's voice
So we pray and we pray

The queen's heart
The knights of shame
So we pray, oh

Ooooooo

And yeah, it's no fun living for the fall
And there'll be no more waiting for you all
And there'll be one more chance for the truth
Without you
I would die
[x2]

Without you
I would die

Waiting on a heartbeat
Is anybody listening?
We're waiting on a heartbeat
Can anybody hear me?
[x2]

Yes, I hear you!  

 

The following excerpt is from the play 'Arcadia' by Tom Stoppard. The play's action takes place in one house over two historical time dimensions, the present and the early 19th century, at the time of the poet Lord Byron, who is an unseen visitor in the house.  At the climax of the play, the two time frames converge taking place simultaneously in real time on the stage (the characters Septimus and Thomasina are Victorian vs. Valentine and Hannah who are the (post)-moderns).  I have bolded certain key sections for emphasis:

 

Septimus pours himself some more wine. He continues to read her essay.

The music changes to party music from the marquee. And there are fireworks -- small against the sky, distant flares of light like exploding meteors.

Hannah enters. She has dressed for the party. The difference is not, however, dramatic. She closes the door and crosses to leave by the garden door. But as she gets there, Valentine is entering. He has a glass of wine in his hand.

HANNAH: Oh . . .

But Valentine merely brushes past her, intent on something, and half-drunk. 

VALENTINE:  (to her) Got it!

He goes straight to the table and roots about in what is now a considerable mess of papers, books and objects.  Hannah turns back, puzzled by his manner. He finds what he has been looking for -- the 'diagram '.

Meanwhile, Septimus, reading Thomasina's essay, also studies the diagram.

Septimus and Valentine study the diagram doubled by time

VALENTINE: It’s heat.

HANNAH:  Are you tight, Val?

VALENTINE:  It's a diagram of heat exchange.

SEPTIMUS:  So, we are all doomed!

THOMASINA: (cheerfully) Yes.

VALENTINE: Like a steam engine, you see –

Hannah fills Septimus's glass from the same decanter, and sips from it

She didn’t have the maths, not remotely. She saw what things meant, way ahead, like seeing a picture.

SEPTIMUS:  This is not science.  This is story-telling.

THOMASINA:  Is is a waltz now?

SEPTIMUS:  No.

The music is still modern

VALENTINE: Like a film.

HANNAH: What did she see?

VALENTINE: That you can’t run the film backwards. Heat was the fist thing which didn’t work that way. Not like Newton. A film of a pendulum, or a ball falling through the air – backwards, it looks the same.

HANNAH: The ball would be going the wrong way.

VALENTINE: You’d have to know that. But with heat – friction – a ball breaking a window –

HANNAH: Yes.

VALENTINE: It won’t work backwards.

HANNAH: Who thought it did?

VALENTINE: She saw why. You can put back the bits of glass but you can’t collect up the heat of the smash. It’s gone.

SEPTIMUS:  So the improved Newtonian Universe must cease and grow cold.  Dear me.

VALENTINE: The heat goes into the mix. (He gestures to indicate the air in the room, in the universe.)

THOMASINA:  Yes, we must hurry if we are going to dance.

VALENTINE: And everything is mixing the same way, all the time, irreversibly --

SEPTIMUS:  Oh we have time, I think.

VALENTINE: -- till there’s no time left. That’s what time means.

SEPTIMUS: When we have found all the mysteries and lost all the meaning, we will be all alone, on an empty shore.

THOMASINA: Then we will dance. Is this a waltz?” 

SEPTIMUS:  It will serve (He stands up)

THOMASINA: (jumping up)  Goody!

Septimus takes her in his arms carefully and the waltz lesson, to the music from the marquee, begins...

 

― Tom Stoppard, Arcadia

 

Unbeknownst to the dancing pair, this will be Thomasina's last night on earth, for tragically she is to die in a fire that very night -- on the eve of her seventeenth birthday.  But she did learn to waltz.

 

[Lady of Harmony]

2 hours ago, ravenous reader said:

Thanks @Lady of Harmony -- you honor me by posting in my thread!  And let me extend a warm welcome to the forum .

Your contribution brought a smile to my face -- that's certainly a most upbeat way to approach the end of the world!  I have attached the song below for those who would like to listen, sing or dance along...

 

 

I have parsed my associations in red:

Yes, I hear you!  

 

The following excerpt is from the play 'Arcadia' by Tom Stoppard. The play's action takes place in one house over two historical time dimensions, the present and the early 19th century, at the time of the poet Lord Byron, who is an unseen visitor in the house.  At the climax of the play, the two time frames converge taking place simultaneously in real time on the stage (the characters Septimus and Thomasina are Victorian vs. Valentine and Hannah who are the (post)-moderns).  I have bolded certain key sections for emphasis:

 

Septimus pours himself some more wine. He continues to read her essay.

The music changes to party music from the marquee. And there are fireworks -- small against the sky, distant flares of light like exploding meteors.

Hannah enters. She has dressed for the party. The difference is not, however, dramatic. She closes the door and crosses to leave by the garden door. But as she gets there, Valentine is entering. He has a glass of wine in his hand.

HANNAH: Oh . . .

But Valentine merely brushes past her, intent on something, and half-drunk. 

VALENTINE:  (to her) Got it!

He goes straight to the table and roots about in what is now a considerable mess of papers, books and objects.  Hannah turns back, puzzled by his manner. He finds what he has been looking for -- the 'diagram '.

Meanwhile, Septimus, reading Thomasina's essay, also studies the diagram.

Septimus and Valentine study the diagram doubled by time

VALENTINE: It’s heat.

HANNAH:  Are you tight, Val?

VALENTINE:  It's a diagram of heat exchange.

SEPTIMUS:  So, we are all doomed!

THOMASINA: (cheerfully) Yes.

VALENTINE: Like a steam engine, you see –

Hannah fills Septimus's glass from the same decanter, and sips from it

She didn’t have the maths, not remotely. She saw what things meant, way ahead, like seeing a picture.

SEPTIMUS:  This is not science.  This is story-telling.

THOMASINA:  Is is a waltz now?

SEPTIMUS:  No.

The music is still modern

VALENTINE: Like a film.

HANNAH: What did she see?

VALENTINE: That you can’t run the film backwards. Heat was the fist thing which didn’t work that way. Not like Newton. A film of a pendulum, or a ball falling through the air – backwards, it looks the same.

HANNAH: The ball would be going the wrong way.

VALENTINE: You’d have to know that. But with heat – friction – a ball breaking a window –

HANNAH: Yes.

VALENTINE: It won’t work backwards.

HANNAH: Who thought it did?

VALENTINE: She saw why. You can put back the bits of glass but you can’t collect up the heat of the smash. It’s gone.

SEPTIMUS:  So the improved Newtonian Universe must cease and grow cold.  Dear me.

VALENTINE: The heat goes into the mix. (He gestures to indicate the air in the room, in the universe.)

THOMASINA:  Yes, we must hurry if we are going to dance.

VALENTINE: And everything is mixing the same way, all the time, irreversibly --

SEPTIMUS:  Oh we have time, I think.

VALENTINE: -- till there’s no time left. That’s what time means.

SEPTIMUS: When we have found all the mysteries and lost all the meaning, we will be all alone, on an empty shore.

THOMASINA: Then we will dance. Is this a waltz?” 

SEPTIMUS:  It will serve (He stands up)

THOMASINA: (jumping up)  Goody!

Septimus takes her in his arms carefully and the waltz lesson, to the music from the marquee, begins...

 

― Tom Stoppard, Arcadia

 

Unbeknownst to the dancing pair, this will be Thomasina's last night on earth, for tragically she is to die in a fire that very night -- on the eve of her seventeenth birthday.  But she did learn to waltz.

 

Thank you so much. You brought more than a smile to my face with your thoughtful response. And thank for posting the video, I wasn't sure how do that. 

Pretty much everything I encounter reminds me of asoiaf, I think that's a testament to GRRM and the way he intertwines so many elements of our world into his work. Not to mention the human experience. 

[ravenous reader]

18 hours ago, Unchained said:

I have not given this thread its deserved attention.  It is exactly what I am lagging in the most and very interesting.  I am working throught the comments now.  

Hi @Unchained, no stress on 'working through the comments'...it is a very long thread indeed!    You seem like a poetic guy with a flair for the equivocal turn of phrase, which is the basis of poetry (indeed, I'd say we can see this particular talent at work in the way you've elevated the 'self-deprecating burn' into an artform, even if I do tease you about it!  )

The current thread, a bit of fun really, grew out of Lucifer's hasty dismissal one day of Shakespeare and in general poetry's relevance to the ASOIAF enterprise, whereafter the 'devil's secretary  muse' revolted, and the devil final came her way....  I'm pleased to see my thread -- which I prefer to think of as 'ours' -- has almost garnered 10000 views; a testament to poetry's ongoing relevance to meeting the unanswered call of the human soul, if not cracking all of ASOIAF's mysteries. 

I would love it if you left me a poem, or some other quote that speaks to you.

Quote

 

The Raven is one of the few poems I would say I am familiar with.  I have a spitballing level thought about it.  Hodor = Nevermore.

Wow -- I love it!  It even rhymes...

Spoiler

especially if resolved into three instead of two syllables = 'hold the door' = 'ne--ver--more'!

 

Quote

Both the Raven and Hodor only say one word and are named after it.  If 'everyone knows what' happens in the books then that word will become both haunting and door associated.  Plus he carries around a kid who's name means "crow" among 1000 other things.      

Oh, you've followed through with great imaginative perspecuity.  Hodor as door positioned at the magical liminal frontier between life and death (and possibly different space- and time- dimensions).  We've already seen an intimation of this 'doorkeeping' function of Hodor's when he is the one tasked with opening the heavy door of the crypt, from the inside of the tomb, in order to give Bran and the rest a new lease on life, after the burning of Winterfell (it's like they're hatching from the egg).  In this way, Hodor functions as the door, a midwife, and a mother (because the 'newborn' children are being delivered/liberated by his pioneering 'pushing' efforts!)  Check out the relevant quote:

Quote

A Clash of Kings - Bran VII

They had to pull Bran from his basket first, so he would not get squished. Meera squatted beside him on the steps, one arm thrown protectively across his shoulders, as Osha and Hodor traded places. "Open the door, Hodor," Bran said.

The huge stableboy put both hands flat on the door, pushed, and grunted. "Hodor?" He slammed a fist against the wood, and it did not so much as jump. "Hodor."

"Use your back," urged Bran. "And your legs."

Turning, Hodor put his back to the wood and shoved. Again. Again. "Hodor!" He put one foot on a higher step so he was bent under the slant of the door and tried to rise. This time the wood groaned and creaked. "Hodor!" The other foot came up a step, and Hodor spread his legs apart, braced, and straightened. His face turned red, and Bran could see cords in his neck bulging as he strained against the weight above him. "Hodor hodor hodor hodor hodor HODOR!" From above came a dull rumble. Then suddenly the door jerked upward and a shaft of daylight fell across Bran's face, blinding him for a moment. Another shove brought the sound of shifting stone, and then the way was open. Osha poked her spear through and slid out after it, and Rickon squirmed through Meera's legs to follow. Hodor shoved the door open all the way and stepped to the surface. The Reeds had to carry Bran up the last few steps.

Then, with Bran -- the Raven -- perched on his shoulders, that's like Poe's raven or Dany's Drogon perched on the chamber door admitting entrance to and/or egress from the 'undying' realm.  Perhaps Hodor is also a bit like the 'crone'-figure who opened the door, allowing the first raven to fly into the world.  Sleipnir/Yggdrasil as crone?  PK (@Pain killer Jane) has mentioned that the greenseer is like the moth trapped in the lantern (think of Mance alight grotesquely dancing in his wicker cage); so if the crone bears the lantern, that's a bit like bearing a birdcage, and may be equivalent to Bran skinchanging all the giants, including but not exclusively 'Hodor'.

[Pain killer Jane]

23 minutes ago, ravenous reader said:

PK (@Pain killer Jane) has mentioned that the greenseer is like the moth trapped in the lantern (think of Mance alight grotesquely dancing in his wicker cage); so if the crone bears the lantern, that's a bit like bearing a birdcage, and may be equivalent to Bran skinchanging all the giants, including but not exclusively 'Hodor'.

So I found this quote and I was thinking about how skinchanging came about since we have physical limitations being catalysts for seeking power. I found this quote.

Quote

Maester Aemon smiled. "Your Grace," he said, "before we go, I wonder if you would do us the great honor of showing us this wondrous blade we have all heard so very much of."

"You want to see Lightbringer? A blind man?"

"Sam shall be my eyes."

I was thinking holy crap. Maester Aemon is acting like Symeon Stars-eyes here using secret knowledge to get a warrior (I know that is not the something usually associated with Sam) to be his eyes. In a sense Aemon, a red dragon here is skinchanging Sam, a green man.  

[ravenous reader]

6 hours ago, Pain killer Jane said:

So I found this quote and I was thinking about how skinchanging came about since we have physical limitations being catalysts for seeking power. I found this quote.

Quote

Maester Aemon smiled. "Your Grace," he said, "before we go, I wonder if you would do us the great honor of showing us this wondrous blade we have all heard so very much of."

"You want to see Lightbringer? A blind man?"

"Sam shall be my eyes."

I was thinking holy crap. Maester Aemon is acting like Symeon Stars-eyes here using secret knowledge to get a warrior (I know that is not the something usually associated with Sam) to be his eyes. In a sense Aemon, a red dragon here is skinchanging Sam, a green man.  

That's a great catch!  And Sam is actually Sam Tarly, the striding huntsman of Horn Hill, with a reputation for being 'Sam the Slayer' -- so definitely a warrior of a kind.  Additionally, he fulfills the requirements for GRRM's favorite type of warrior, namely 'knight of the mind' (as Maester Luwin encourages for Bran).

I still can't figure out the meaning of Symeon 'watching the hellhounds feud' -- in the 'weirnet' I'm presuming?  So how does that translate into three figures in the 'weirnet'?  Could that have something to do with your identified trio of the maester, flanked by hellhound and wyvern?

Applying the paradigm to the Prologue (my favorite pastime these days ), Will would be the maester/greenseer Symeon figure who gains a warrior by arcane knowledge (skinchanging the sentinel culminating in the incantation of the whispered prayer to the nameless gods of the wood).  So, in that scenario, the 'star eyes' or 'third eye' capacity is provided by the tree, who is the giant serpentine-staircase-to-the-stars burning-bush-capturing-the-fire-of-the-gods in the equation (the 'grey-green giant' to be exact).  The proxy warrior gained via the 'killing word' is therefore the Other as 'cat's paw' or disembodied Hand of the greenseer/warg/skinchanger King.  So the duel between the Other and Waymar is analogous to the hellhounds fighting watched by the third unseen one?  In the duel, Waymar with his black sable slashed with red blood is the dragon or wyvern vs. the Other who is the hellhound.

Your thoughts on the ever-elusive threesome?  (bring your 'kink'...but keep the discourse 'vanilla' enough so the rest of us 'regular' folks can follow you...)

[Pain killer Jane]

1 minute ago, ravenous reader said:

I still can't figure out the meaning of Symeon 'watching the hellhounds feud' -- in the 'weirnet' I'm presuming?  So how does that translate into three figures in the 'weirnet'?  Could that have something to do with your identified trio of the maester, flanked by hellhound and wyvern?

 

17 minutes ago, ravenous reader said:

So the duel between the Other and Waymar is analogous to the hellhounds fighting watched by the third unseen one?  In the duel, Waymar with his black sable slashed with red blood is the dragon or wyvern vs. the Other who is the hellhound.

Yes Will is the unseen third party saying words that cause Waymar and the Others to fight each other. 

I think Symeon is the third party involved in getting those two hellhounds to fight in the first place. Measter Cressen is standing in between the hellhound and the wyvern and he should be seen as the relay between the two. (Like the game telephone, the message changes every time it is relayed) And thus can be said to be the one holding the spoon/saying words to stir the pot or bad blood between the hellhound and the wyvern. 

[Pain killer Jane]

33 minutes ago, ravenous reader said:

That's a great catch!  And Sam is actually Sam Tarly, the striding huntsman of Horn Hill, with a reputation for being 'Sam the Slayer' -- so definitely a warrior of a kind.  Additionally, he fulfills the requirements for GRRM's favorite type of warrior, namely 'knight of the mind' (as Maester Luwin encourages for Bran).

Sam acts like Will, Symeon, Arya, Bran and greenseers when he was whispering and acting like a go-between Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys Mallister during the choosing of the Lord Commander. 

[ravenous reader]

17 minutes ago, Pain killer Jane said:

Sam acts like Will, Symeon, Arya, Bran and greenseers when he was whispering and acting like a go-between Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys Mallister during the choosing of the Lord Commander. 

That's another great analogy illustrating the dynamic!  I was just going to say that it's the Norse mythological scenario of the trickster Ratatoskr (the horned squirrel-rat...and indeed Sam self-identifies with that book-eating mouse in the library) who scurries up and down the world tree meddling and stirring between the two opposite poles, represented by the eagle at the top of the tree (Mallister in this equation) and the dragon at its roots (Pyke here, since we're taking the 'see' as synonymous with 'sea'...also @cgrav pointed out that the subaquatic realm encircles the roots of the tree:

Quote

From wikipedia:

In Norse mythology, Jörmungandr (Old Norse: Jǫrmungandr, pronounced [ˈjɔrmuŋɡandr̥], meaning "huge monster"[1]), often written as Jormungand, or Jörmungand and also known as the Midgard Serpent (Old Norse: Miðgarðsormr), or World Serpent, is a sea serpent, the middle child of the giantess Angrboða and Loki. According to the Prose Edda, Odin took Loki's three children by Angrboða—the wolf Fenrir, Hel, and Jörmungandr—and tossed Jörmungandr into the great ocean that encircles Midgard.[2] The serpent grew so large that it was able to surround the earth and grasp its own tail.[2] As a result, it received the name of the Midgard Serpent or World Serpent. When it releases its tail, Ragnarök will begin. Jörmungandr's arch-enemy is the thunder-god, Thor. It is an example of an ouroboros).

Also, I don't think it's coincidental that Will had been forced to take the black when he, like Shakespeare, was caught poaching on a noble man's estate -- in ASOIAF, this is given as Mallister lands, hence the eagle's domain.  Littlefinger with his ambitious eye on the falcon's nest has similarly made that trip up to the Eyrie on the back of a bunch of lies.  In terms of potentially precipitating Robert's Rebellion, as @PrettyPig has suggested, one might interpret Littlefinger's machinations via 'weasel words' sent flitting back and forth between the two parties, Targaryen (wyvern) and Stark (hellhound), with the ultimate aim of unseating the latter.

[ravenous reader]

OK, @Lady of Harmony, this is all your fault -- getting me to listen to more AWOLNATION... 

 

Anthem sung by Maester Luwin to Shaggy:

 

 

Hollow Moon

AWOLNATION

I’ve been running from it all my lifetime
There’s nothing wrong with you, I’m searching for my right mind
Oh, you should’ve seen it they were resting on the restless
This happened, literally, woke up I was headless
I woke up I was headless

Ah
I'm-a make a deal with the bad wolf
So the bad wolf don’t bite no more
I'm-a make a deal with the bad wolf
So the bad wolf don’t bite no more
I'm-a make a deal with the bad wolf
So the bad wolf don’t bite no more
I'm-a make a deal with the bad wolf
So the bad wolf don’t bite no more
I'm-a make a I'm-a make a bad wolf I'm-a I'm-a
Bad wolf I'm-a make a bad wolf I'm-a I'm-a
I'm-a make a deal with the bad wolf
So the bad wolf don’t bite no more

Motherfucker I’ll be back from the dead soon
I’ll be watching from the center of the hollow moon
Oh my God I think I might’ve made a mistake
Waiting patiently was waiting taking up space
We are waiting taking up space

Ah
I'm-a make a deal with the bad wolf
So the bad wolf don’t bite no more
I'm-a make a deal with the bad wolf
So the bad wolf don’t bite no more
I'm-a make a deal with the bad wolf
So the bad wolf don’t bite no more
I'm-a make a deal with the bad wolf
So the bad wolf don’t bite no more
I'm-a make a I'm-a make a bad wolf I'm-a I'm-a
Bad wolf I'm-a make a bad wolf I'm-a I'm-a
I'm-a make a deal with the bad wolf
So the bad wolf don’t bite no more

The earth below is above my feet when the clock is laughing at me
When copy cats and the lazy brats are the last thing I want to see
No, my enemy is a friend of mine in a friendly place to be seen
Hey, you know I'd run away for a couple years just to prove I’ve never been free

They will never find me here!
They will never find me here!
They will never find me here!
They will never find me here, yeah!

I'm-a make a deal with the bad wolf
So the bad wolf don’t bite no more
I'm-a make a deal with the bad wolf
So the bad wolf don’t bite no more
I'm-a make a deal with the bad wolf
So the bad wolf don’t bite no more
I'm-a make a deal with the bad wolf
So the bad wolf don’t bite no more
I'm-a make a deal with the bad wolf
So the bad wolf don’t bite no more
I'm-a make a deal with the bad wolf
So the bad wolf don’t bite no more
I'm-a make a deal with the bad wolf
So the bad wolf don’t bite no more
I'm-a make a deal with the bad wolf
So the bad wolf don’t bite no more

Songwriters: Aaron Bruno

 

Quote

A Game of Thrones - Bran VII

"Yes." The memory made him shiver. He looked around the vault uneasily, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling. Had he heard a noise? Was there someone here?

Maester Luwin stepped toward the open sepulchre, torch in hand. "As you see, he's not here. Nor will he be, for many a year. Dreams are only dreams, child." He thrust his arm into the blackness inside the tomb, as into the mouth of some great beast. "Do you see? It's quite empt—"

The darkness sprang at him, snarling.

Bran saw eyes like green fire, a flash of teeth, fur as black as the pit around them. Maester Luwin yelled and threw up his hands. The torch went flying from his fingers, caromed off the stone face of Brandon Stark, and tumbled to the statue's feet, the flames licking up his legs. In the drunken shifting torchlight, they saw Luwin struggling with the direwolf, beating at his muzzle with one hand while the jaws closed on the other.

"Summer!" Bran screamed.

 

Quote

A Game of Thrones - Bran VII

"—too young, and—ooh, seven hells, that burns, no, don't stop, more. Too young, as I say, but you, Bran, you're old enough to know that dreams are only dreams."

"Some are, some aren't." Osha poured pale red firemilk into a long gash. Luwin gasped. "The children of the forest could tell you a thing or two about dreaming."

Tears were streaming down the maester's face, yet he shook his head doggedly. "The children … live only in dreams. Now. Dead and gone. Enough, that's enough. Now the bandages. Pads and then wrap, and make it tight, I'll be bleeding."

 

Quote

A Game of Thrones - Bran VII

"Old Nan says the children knew the songs of the trees, that they could fly like birds and swim like fish and talk to the animals," Bran said. "She says that they made music so beautiful that it made you cry like a little baby just to hear it."

"And all this they did with magic," Maester Luwin said, distracted. "I wish they were here now. A spell would heal my arm less painfully, and they could talk to Shaggy dog and tell him not to bite." He gave the big black wolf an angry glance out of the corner of his eye. "Take a lesson, Bran. The man who trusts in spells is dueling with a glass sword. As the children did. Here, let me show you something." He stood abruptly, crossed the room, and returned with a green jar in his good hand. "Have a look at these," he said as he pulled the stopper and shook out a handful of shiny black arrowheads.

Bran picked one up. "It's made of glass." Curious, Rickon drifted closer to peer over the table.

 

Quote

A Clash of Kings - Bran VII

Osha gazed up at the weirwood, at the red face carved in the pale trunk. "And leave you for the gods?"

"I beg . . ." The maester swallowed. ". . . a . . . a drink of water, and . . . another boon. If you would . . ."

"Aye." She turned to Meera. "Take the boys."

And with that --  Maester Luwin truly earned his Valyrian steel link.

[Pain killer Jane]

21 minutes ago, ravenous reader said:

I was just going to say that it's the Norse mythological scenario of the trickster Ratatoskr (the horned squirrel-rat) who scurries up and down the world tree meddling and stirring between the two opposite poles, represented by the eagle at the top of the tree (Mallister in this equation) and the dragon at its roots (Pyke here, since we're taking the 'see' as synonymous with 'sea'...also @cgrav pointed out that the subaquatic realm encircles the roots of the tree:

I agree. 

Cotter also calls Mallister a preening eagle on top of the Shadow Tower. And he makes a joke about buggering Ser Denys with a red hot sword. A man that has the name of a spear from a culture that is extremely associated with a the burning brand coming from the sea and talks about buggering him in the backdoor and Ser Denys being an eagle sounds like the issues between Cotter and Denys should end in Orelle's burning eagle. 

28 minutes ago, ravenous reader said:

lso, I don't think it's coincidental that Will had been forced to take the black when he, like Shakespeare, was caught poaching on a noble man's estate -- in ASOIAF, this is given as Mallister lands, hence the eagle's domain.

I don't think it is a coincidence either. I think the purple of the Mallister colors is supposed to be the blue in the Arryn sigil and the silver is the cream and the eagle is the falcon. And their words are super close as well; "Above the Rest" and "As High As Honor".  

Since I am on the colors thing, Daario is a good Blue Falcon, Jorah even says "his bread wears false colors," while on one level, that means that the hair dye in his bread and hair makes them false but as his bread was blue at that moment, then on another level we can safely say that blue is meant to be a color that denotes falseness. And the second time Dany talks to Daario, he has purple in his hair that makes his eyes almost purple and is a direct reference to Aegon VI but can also be taken as a reference to the this Mallister/Arryn association theory. 

[cgrav]

@ravenous reader

I think Sam's role as Ratatoskr is also pretty straightforwardly fulfilled by his assignment to be in charge of the ravens, and in action by his bringing critical information south from the Great Ranging. He travels between realms with special privilege (getting to stay alive) just as Ratatoskr scurries up and down the world tree.

[Cridefea]

On 9/5/2017 at 10:25 PM, ravenous reader said:

It is a delight, thanks to you, to learn some more Italian culture besides the obligatory 'uccello'...

ahahahahaha just to add to your research: https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/pisello#Italian

On 9/5/2017 at 10:25 PM, ravenous reader said:

P.S.  What kind of Italian dialect is that?

that is italian, but he also sing in my dialect, the genoese because he was born in my town. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genoese_dialect

On 9/5/2017 at 10:25 PM, ravenous reader said:

is a bitter indictment of humanity's inability to listen to each other, with the resultant misunderstandings and brutality resulting from those broken conversations -- on both sides, i.e. the condemned men and the ones who condemn them.

yes, it is a counter-prayer, the hanged hold a grudge against anyone and are not asking for absolution (very LadyStoneheart-ish) and they are not an example, but they show the pain originated from a sentence to death is not a solution (it is a conversation lefts hanging). As you said, the misunderstanding is a human trait, and this reminds me this quote from "One, No one, one hundred thousand" (Arya, is that you? ) by Pirandello:

Quote

The unfortunate part is that you, my dear friend, will never know, and I shall never be able to tell you, how what you say to me is translated inside me. You did not speak Turkish, no. We both employed, you and I, the same language, the same words. But is it our fault, yours and mine, if words in themselves are empty? Empty, my dear friend. You fill them with your meaning, as you speak them to me; while I, in taking them in, inevitably fill them with my own. We thought we understood each other; we did not understand each other at all.

On 9/5/2017 at 10:25 PM, ravenous reader said:

She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Love Macbeth! and it fits a lot with ASOIAF!

 

On 3/5/2017 at 2:14 AM, Dorian Martell's son said:

This one made me think of the CTOF 

 

 

 

Dance of the Heart

...........
-Semerian Perez

What a beautiful "dance" of the nature!

On 9/5/2017 at 11:30 PM, ravenous reader said:

Do you know, that poem has come up before so it definitely resonates with readers of ASOIAF! 

It is definitely! good catch @Blue Tiger

 

[Durran Durrandon]

Also, whenever my kids are watching TV and Bob the Builder comes on, I get altered version of the theme song stuck in my head.

"Bran the Builder,
Bran the Builder,
Can we build it?
Yes we can!"

[LynnS]

@ravenous reader

 I'm curious to know your thoughts on Martin's reference to Robert Frost's poem "The Road not Taken" in the Epilogue of Dance with Dragons.  Here's the passage:

 

Quote

A Dance with Dragons - Epilogue

The fire soon thawed him, and the wine warmed his insides nicely. It also made him sleepy, so he dare not drink another cup. His day was far from done. He had reports to read, letters to write. And supper with Cersei and the king. His niece had been subdued and submissive since her walk of atonement, thank the gods. The novices who attended her reported that she spent a third of her waking hours with her son, another third in prayer, and the rest in her tub. She was bathing four or five times a day, scrubbing herself with horsehair brushes and strong lye soap, as if she meant to scrape her skin off.

She will never wash the stain away, no matter how hard she scrubs. Ser Kevan remembered the girl she once had been, so full of life and mischief. And when she'd flowered, ahhhh … had there ever been a maid so sweet to look upon? If Aerys had agreed to marry her to Rhaegar, how many deaths might have been avoided? Cersei could have given the prince the sons he wanted, lions with purple eyes and silver manes … and with such a wife, Rhaegar might never have looked twice at Lyanna Stark. The northern girl had a wild beauty, as he recalled, though however bright a torch might burn it could never match the rising sun.

But it did no good to brood on lost battles and roads not taken. That was a vice of old done men. Rhaegar had wed Elia of Dorne, Lyanna Stark had died, Robert Baratheon had taken Cersei to bride, and here they were. And tonight his own road would take him to his niece's chambers and face-to-face with Cersei

 

Quote

A Game of Thrones - Eddard XV.

Robert had been jesting with Jon and old Lord Hunter as the prince circled the field after unhorsing Ser Barristan in the final tilt to claim the champion's crown. Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty's laurel in Lyanna's lap. He could see it still: a crown of winter roses, blue as frost.

Ned Stark reached out his hand to grasp the flowery crown, but beneath the pale blue petals the thorns lay hidden. He felt them clawing at his skin, sharp and cruel, saw the slow trickle of blood run down his fingers, and woke, trembling, in the dark

 

Robert Frost, 1874 - 1963

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Summary

The speaker stands in the woods, considering a fork in the road. Both ways are equally worn and equally overlaid with un-trodden leaves. The speaker chooses one, telling himself that he will take the other another day. Yet he knows it is unlikely that he will have the opportunity to do so. And he admits that someday in the future he will recreate the scene with a slight twist: He will claim that he took the less-traveled road.

 

Quote

David Haglund, a senior editor for Slate, has speculated that Frost may have deliberately misled his readers. Various quotes from Frost's correspondences suggest that he knew people would misunderstand the meaning — and their confusion even amused him.

http://www.businessinsider.com/frosts-road-not-taken-poem-interpretation-2014-3

 

[ravenous reader]

On 5/14/2017 at 11:11 PM, Durran Durrandon said:

Also, whenever my kids are watching TV and Bob the Builder comes on, I get altered version of the theme song stuck in my head.

"Bran the Builder,
Bran the Builder,
Can we build it?
Yes we can!"

LOL.  

 

On 5/14/2017 at 10:50 AM, Cridefea said:

ahahahahaha just to add to your research: https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/pisello#Italian

'pisello odoroso,' LOL... It seems I have not yet learned all the parole molto importante, ahahahahahaha!

Quote

On 5/9/2017 at 4:25 PM, ravenous reader said:

P.S.  What kind of Italian dialect is that?

that is italian, but he also sing in my dialect, the genoese because he was born in my town.

I love this artist's voice -- thank you for introducing me to his music.   

Quote

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genoese_dialect

 

Quote

On 5/9/2017 at 4:25 PM, ravenous reader said:

is a bitter indictment of humanity's inability to listen to each other, with the resultant misunderstandings and brutality resulting from those broken conversations -- on both sides, i.e. the condemned men and the ones who condemn them.

yes, it is a counter-prayer, the hanged hold a grudge against anyone and are not asking for absolution (very LadyStoneheart-ish) and they are not an example, but they show the pain originated from a sentence to death is not a solution (it is a conversation lefts hanging). As you said, the misunderstanding is a human trait, and this reminds me this quote from "One, No one, one hundred thousand" (Arya, is that you? ) by Pirandello:

Quote

The unfortunate part is that you, my dear friend, will never know, and I shall never be able to tell you, how what you say to me is translated inside me. You did not speak Turkish, no. We both employed, you and I, the same language, the same words. But is it our fault, yours and mine, if words in themselves are empty? Empty, my dear friend. You fill them with your meaning, as you speak them to me; while I, in taking them in, inevitably fill them with my own. We thought we understood each other; we did not understand each other at all.

That's lovely.  In turn, this comes to mind:

“She had always wanted words, she loved them, grew up on them. Words gave her clarity, brought reason, shape. Whereas I thought words bent emotions like sticks in water.”

― Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient

 

While it's true we (humans in general) are separated from each other by the medium of language itself, I've found a willingness to understand the other goes a long way; unlike for example as expressed in the following poem, in which the bitter narrator reflects on a destructive relationship in which words were mutually used as playthings in order to deliberately obstruct and diminish the estranged partner, who by implication is treated as a 'plaything' as well.  It reminds me of something Jaime might 'say' to Cersei, at the end of their journey -- all to himself in the privacy of his own mind, and in italics of course, since tragically it's not something she would ever be able to hear...

The 'tedious riddles' and allusion to a 'roving eye' reminds me of this refrain stuck in Jaime's head, thanks to Tyrion:

Quote

A Feast for Crows - Jaime III

"Qyburn stinks of secrets," he warned Cersei. That only made her laugh. "We all have secrets, brother," she replied.

. . . she's been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and Moon Boy for all I know . . .

The poet, like Jaime, suffered being caught in an unhappy marriage.

 

Neutral Tones

 

We stood by a pond that winter day, 

And the sun was white, as though chidden of God, 

And a few leaves lay on the starving sod; 

– They had fallen from an ash, and were gray. 

 

Your eyes on me were as eyes that rove 

Over tedious riddles of years ago; 

And some words played between us to and fro 

On which lost the more by our love. 

 

The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing 

Alive enough to have strength to die; 

And a grin of bitterness swept thereby 

Like an ominous bird a-wing…. 

 

Since then, keen lessons that love deceives, 

And wrings with wrong, have shaped to me 

Your face, and the God curst sun, and a tree, 

And a pond edged with grayish leaves. 

-- THOMAS HARDY

 

 

On a lighter note, there's also this poem I happened upon which I whimsically imagine Jaime might say to the other woman in his life, Brienne.  Just exchange the 'Paris' of the poem with 'Harrenhal', and the 'hotel room' with 'bathhouse'...then you'll see what I mean!  And of course the 'all points south...am I embarrassing you?' inevitably brings me to this passage:

Quote

A Storm of Swords - Jaime V

"Does the sight of my stump distress you so?" Jaime asked. "You ought to be pleased. I've lost the hand I killed the king with. The hand that flung the Stark boy from that tower. The hand I'd slide between my sister's thighs to make her wet." He thrust his stump at her face. "No wonder Renly died, with you guarding him."

She jerked to her feet as if he'd struck her, sending a wash of hot water across the tub. Jaime caught a glimpse of the thick blonde bush at the juncture of her thighs as she climbed out. She was much hairier than his sister. Absurdly, he felt his cock stir beneath the bathwater. Now I know I have been too long away from Cersei. He averted his eyes, troubled by his body's response. "That was unworthy," he mumbled. "I'm a maimed man, and bitter. Forgive me, wench. You protected me as well as any man could have, and better than most."

She wrapped her nakedness in a towel. "Do you mock me?"

 

 

IN PARIS WITH YOU

Don't talk to me of love. I've had an earful
And I get tearful when I've downed a drink or two.
I'm one of your talking wounded.
I'm a hostage. I'm maroonded.
But I'm in Paris with you.

Yes I'm angry at the way I've been bamboozled
And resentful at the mess I've been through.
I admit I'm on the rebound
And I don't care where are we bound.
I'm in Paris with you.

Do you mind if we do not go to the Louvre
If we say sod off to sodding Notre Dame, 
If we skip the Champs Elysées
And remain here in this sleazy

Old hotel room
Doing this and that
To what and whom
Learning who you are, 
Learning what I am.

Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris, 
The little bit of Paris in our view.
There's that crack across the ceiling
And the hotel walls are peeling
And I'm in Paris with you.

Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris.
I'm in Paris with the slightest thing you do.
I'm in Paris with your eyes, your mouth, 
I'm in Paris with... all points south.
Am I embarrassing you? 
I'm in Paris with you. 

-- JAMES FENTON

 

[Cridefea]

On 16/5/2017 at 10:36 PM, ravenous reader said:

It seems I have not yet learned all the parole molto importante

it is a long list 

On 16/5/2017 at 10:36 PM, ravenous reader said:

thank you for introducing me to his music.

You're welcome. I'm glad you like him.

On 16/5/2017 at 10:36 PM, ravenous reader said:

“She had always wanted words, she loved them, grew up on them. Words gave her clarity, brought reason, shape. Whereas I thought words bent emotions like sticks in water.”

― Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient

Great quote!

On 16/5/2017 at 10:36 PM, ravenous reader said:

While it's true we (humans in general) are separated from each other by the medium of language itself, I've found a willingness to understand the other goes a long way; unlike for example as expressed in the following poem, in which the bitter narrator reflects on a destructive relationship in which words were mutually used as playthings in order to deliberately obstruct and diminish the estranged partner, who by implication is treated as a 'plaything' as well.  It reminds me of something Jaime might 'say' to Cersei, at the end of their journey -- all to himself in the privacy of his own mind, and in italics of course, since tragically it's not something she would ever be able to hear...

The 'tedious riddles' and allusion to a 'roving eye' reminds me of this refrain stuck in Jaime's head, thanks to Tyrion:

 

I absolutely agree and I add my thought: in that kind of relationship, the manipolator uses words and non-verbal or paraverbal communication to manipulate the partner, like Cersei do with Jaime when he pushed Bran out of the window. 

Quote

The queen. And now Bran recognized the man beside her. They looked as much alike as reflections in a mirror.

"He saw us," the woman said shrilly.

"So he did," the man said.

Bran's fingers started to slip. He grabbed the ledge with his other hand. Fingernails dug into unyielding stone. The man reached down. "Take my hand," he said. "Before you fall."
Bran seized his arm and held on tight with all his strength. The man yanked him up to the ledge. "What are you doing?" the woman demanded.
The man ignored her. He was very strong. He stood Bran up on the sill. "How old are you, boy?"
"Seven," Bran said, shaking with relief. His fingers had dug deep gouges in the man's forearm. He let go sheepishly.
The man looked over at the woman. "The things I do for love," he said with loathing. He gave Bran a shove.

GoT, Bran II

Quote

If truth be told, Jaime had come to rue heaving Brandon Stark out that window. Cersei had given him no end of grief afterward, when the boy refused to die. “He was seven, Jaime,” she’d berated him. “Even if he understood what he saw, we should have been able to frighten him into silence.”
“I didn’t think you’d want -”
“You never think. If the boy should wake and tell his father what he saw -”
 ASOS, Jaime I

She didn't ask explicitly to kill Bran, so when Jaime pushed him, Cersei can blame his brother, like he had misinterpreted her. There are a lot of unspoken between them.

On 16/5/2017 at 10:36 PM, ravenous reader said:

The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing 

Alive enough to have strength to die; 

And a grin of bitterness swept thereby 

Like an ominous bird a-wing…. 

I think there is a chapter in affc where Jaime talk about Cersei's smile uhm I don't remember.

On 16/5/2017 at 10:36 PM, ravenous reader said:

Old bathouse
Doing this and that
To what and whom
Learning who you are, 
Learning what I am.

......

Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Harrenhal.
I'm in Harrenhal with the slightest thing you do.
I'm in Harrenhal with your eyes, your mouth, 
I'm in Harrenhal with... all points south.
Am I embarrassing you? 
I'm in Harrenhal with you. 

LoL! it would be perfect 

On 15/5/2017 at 4:23 PM, LynnS said:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

I love it! There are many "divergent roads" in asoiaf, Cersei is one of the most important to me. But there are also other turning points: Bran climbing up,  Ned leaving winterfell, Cat choice to free Jaime, Brienne searching for Sansa with no clues etc etc