Mythical creatures booklet



Created in my second year this booklet was incoporating my interpretation of a final years collection, shown in a series of illustrations.

Transcript of Mythical creatures booklet

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A book about all things mystical...

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fantastical, divine, alluring horse-god. mysterious creature in greek mythology.subject of rich iconography & ancient poems.

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Winged horse of Greek myth, symbol of the sacred king’s or hero’s journey to heaven; an image of death and apotheosis, like the mythic death-hordes of northern Europe. Pegasus had archaic, matriarchal origins. He sprang from the “wise blood” of the Moon-goddess Medusa, who embodied the principle of medha, the Indo-European root word for female wisdom.

Alternately, he was the magic horse Arion, “the moon creature on high,” born of the Goddess Demeter and ridden by Heracles in his role of sacred king in Elis There was an earlier female Pegasus named Aganipe, “the Mare Who destroys mercifully,” actually a title of Demeter herself as the destroying lunar Night-Mare.

Pegasus was named for the Pegae, water-priestess who tended the sacred spring in Pirene in Corinth. The cult seems to have been rooted in Egypt. The oldest shrine of Osiris at Abydos (ca. 2000 B.C.) centered on a sacred spring called Pega.

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Eros and Aphrodite, were turned into fishes when they leapt into water to escape the wrath of the storm god Typhon.


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My dear and wise old soul, Fate has united us once again.I try to deny our purpose here,And what I see in your eyes.Maybe I was sent to reveal to youThe inquisitive open mind you possess.Perhaps you came to teach me howI need to live more in the momentAnd let tomorrow matter less.

Do I really have to tell you?...That sensitive side,You know,The one you try to hide.I’m afraid, I suspectHas long ago guessedThe secret yearning of my higher s-Elf,The one where I wished desperatelyTo be able to showMy deep-running feelingsTo the unfeeling world

My logical and rational mindIs telling meThrough the mutual smile we share,Life had already taken a new twistLong before we began to care.

By Proxieme

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‘Sasquatch” The first recorded sight-ing was in 1811 when fur trader David Thompson reported discovering large, strange footprints in the snow.

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would have nothing whatsoeverto do with, you know — those interlopers.It would have, I suppose,a cold mountain stream in it,a rock shifting in the current,the too-loud splash of a trout.It would have loose barkticking in the wind& a saw-whet owl’s discreterequests for clarification —that kind of persistence.It would have the hushwhen the crickets suddenly stop& your pulse makes such a racketyou’re sure it will give you away,you whose kneesare incapable of bending,whose feet grip as much of the groundas they can still lay claim to.It would cry, that poem,possibly for joy.It would hiss.

By David Bante

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(The Kraken)

Until the latter fire shall heat the deep:Then once by men and angels to be seen,In roaring he shall rise and on the sur-face die

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Below the thunders of the upper deep;Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep

The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights fleeAbout his shadowy sides: above him swell Huge sponges of millennial growth and height; And far away into the sickly light,

From many a wondrous grot and secret cell Unnumbered and enormous polypi Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.

There hath he lain for ages and will lie Battening open huge sea worms in his sleep, Until the latter fire shall heat the deep; Then once by man and angels to be seen,

In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

by Lord Alfred Tennyson

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(Warewolf )

Until the latter fire shall heat the deep:Then once by men and angels to be seen,In roaring he shall rise and on the sur-face die

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A howl in the night, Cuts the silence in two, A howl in the night, Makes you ask ‘who? ’

It is a lonely hunter, That stands on the field, It is a lonely hunter, That hasn’t yet killed,

A creature so big, All covered in pelt, A creature so big, Whit its head high held,

A wolf on two legs, Howls to the moon, A wolf on two legs, Is going to kill soon,

It is called a werewolf, Deadly as few, It is called a werewolf, If just you knew.

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half-woman and half-fish creature who can breathe above and below water. She is beautiful

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I would be a mermaid fair;I would sing to myself the whole of the day;With a comb of pearl I would comb my hair;

And still as I comb’d I would sing and say, “Who is it loves me? who loves not me?” I would comb my hair till my ringlets would fall,

Low adown, low adown,From under my starry sea-bud crownLow adown and around,And I should look like a fountain of goldSpringing alone

With a shrill inner sound,Over the throneIn the midst of the hall;Till that great sea-snake under the seaFrom his coiled sleeps in the central deeps

Would slowly trail himself sevenfoldRound the hall where I sate, and look in at the gateWith his large calm eyes for the love of me.

And all the mermen under the seaWould feel their immortalityDie in their hearts for the love of me.

By Afred Lord Tennyson

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I am Tem in rising. I am the only One. I came into being in Nu. I am Ra who rose in the beginning... The pillars of Shu were not as yet created.

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Blest unfabled Incense Tree,That burns in glorious Araby,With red scent chalicing the air,Till earth-life grow Elysian there!

Half buried to her flaming breastIn this bright tree, she makes her nest,Hundred sunn’d Phoenix! When she mustCrumble at length to hoary dust!

Her gorgous death-bed! Her rich pyreBurnt up with aromatic fire!Her urn, sight high from spoiler men!Her birthplace when self-born again!

The mountainless green wilds among,Here ends she her unechoing song!With amber tears and oderous sighsMourn’d by the desert where she dies!

Laid like the young fawn mossilyIn sun-green vales of Araby,I woke hard by the Phoenix treeThat with shadeless boughs flamed over me,

By George Daley

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creatures endowed with power of for elling the future and ruling the human events.

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I left my love in the Fairy GlenHome of the litte fairy menI met her there on a July nightWhen a Summer moon was beaming bright.

For my love was the Fairy QueenIn Fairyland she reign supremeShe wore a glittering diamond cloakQueen of the little fairy folk.

Though the night was bright it was bright as dayIn a wooded vale I lost my wayThen I sat me down by a tall oak treeAnd the Fairy Queen she came to me.

I gazed upon this fairy smallShe stood scarcely more than two foot tallTiny shoes covered her tiny feetAnd she bowed towards me in a fairy greet.

By Francis Duggan

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Project title: third year interpretation.

Designed and Illustrated byLora O’Callaghan.