5 September 2026
In order to maintain our schedule, and since the poetry post that follows yesterday’s novel post was for Christmas, I will instead share one of my own, recent poems, written in response to the sudden and unexpected death of a dear friend (and mentor for my D&D figure painting). I tried, in a poem, to recall the man I knew, a former military man, who we referred to as our “armorer,” since he had extensive knowledge of arms, driving a large pickup that we called “the rolling armory.” I considered him a younger brother, young enough to be a son, as also his wife, and their herd of cats. . . .
We Weep with You, Dear Sister
We weep with you, dear sister
for our brother who has gone
on to his place in eternity
where pain & suffering
no longer hold sway
where all tears are dried
where joy is full.
We mourn with you dear sister
for our brother moved on
we mourn our loss
but rejoice for him
who can work again
no longer dragged
down by life’s
responsibilities
crushed
by duties his mortal body
could not fulfill.
We remember with you, dear sister
our brother’s quirky smile
odd humor that took
time to understand
when understood we
realized
he was a clown at heart.
We remind you, dear sister
how our brother
towered
over us head & shoulders
above us
at first intimidating
gentle giant who
chose
to be smallest member of our
D&D group–hafling
so unlike him
in appearance but short
duplicate
of his towering character
little thief who
joyfully
lit everything on fire.
We recall with you, dear sister, that night
he shocked us all
preparing
for another D&D session
at Paul’s
our brother came in
shaking
his head & saying
“Had to call Metro today”
we asked why
“I drew down on someone today”
eyes wide again we asked
why & what happened
he was taking his wife’s
small car back
to dealer for maintenance
some crazy guy
on road
believed
our brother cut him off
angered
pursued & threatened
our brother waved
he threatened stopped
in front of our brother who
tried to ignore–
happens all the time on roads in Vegas–
our brother continued
to ignore pulled
into dealer parking lot
maniac followed
him still
threatened
somehow–we don’t know how–our brother
leaped
out of the tiny red car
gun he always carried in hand
cleared
ready
to fire “Driver” our brother
shouted
all business “Get out of the car!”
man in car now
all eyes
conciliatory gestures
reversed
squealed
away as if the hounds
of Hell were
nipping
at his tail
tucked
between his legs–how
we laughed–
still laugh–one
crazy man’s
foolish mistake!
We remember, dear sister, the time he
suggested
picking up dead bugbear
holding
him up in doorway
wave
one dead arm to
invite
other guards to approach
be destroyed
by little thief’s cleverness–
how we laughed–
still laugh–
at his “out of the box”
clever thinking!
We note, dear sister, that he wasn’t
just the clever thief with
towering ego overactive
imagination–he was our
weapons master
the armorer who
drove
rolling armory with
sufficient
weapons & ammunition
to supply our needs
for several months
constant battle–
how it must have cost him
physically & emotionally
to sell his beloved
rolling armory
savage blow to his will
from which he never
recovered.
We recall with fondness, dear sister,
his gentle but pointed
instruction
how to handle
safely
instruments of destruction
group of fellow Saints he
reminded us
again & again
never point it at anything
you didn’t wish to destroy
check the chamber
yourself
even if you
watched
someone else check for themselves.
We remember, dear sister, how
our adopted daughter
from the East Coast who
never touched a weapon before
how our weapons master
frightened
her nearly to death when
she muzzled him
weeks later when
she calmed down she
understood
why he had spoken
so sharply to her to
teach
her proper gun handling.
I remember, dear sister, how
our dear brother
gave to me
my first 80% lower
since I had a shop with
drill press
he & Paul came over
one Saturday morning
showed
us how to drill & prepare then
build my first handgun–not
that I was
unfamiliar with guns
raised
in rural Idaho we were
trained
from age 12 in proper
handling of rifles & shotguns
mostly for hunting
exercising
our 2nd Amendment rights–
only one uncle
owned
handgun 357 magnum
revolver he allowed
his nephews to
fire
kicked
like the proverbial mule
we decided we
preferred
rifles building
became second retirement hobby
our brother gave me.
I recall, dear sister, the first
hobby our brother
gave me
of which he was also
master–when we
started
playing games at Paul’s
he could tell I
wasn’t thrilled
by the board games
we played he
asked
my preference I
replied
Dungeons & Dragons which I
had played for decades–we
changed
to my favorite game
taught Paul, Dixie, & Pat
the game I
brought
the ancient lead figures
my brothers & I had collected
painted
decades before–he
smiled–
“let me fix these”
for many were unpainted some old enamel
peeling
supplies of paint then
limited
to plastic model enamel
applied
with toothpicks
not the best but
we did what we could
the master figure painter
exceeded all we did
inspiring
me to search for
print D&D figures
3D printed filament printer
not much detail
but the master humored me
painted
a few of them.
I remember, dear sister, that our brother
unleashed
a monster–I printed dozens more he
stopped
me & suggested he buy me
resin printer
introduced me to Loot Studios
tiny details achieved with resin
for a time I printed he
painted
our weekly game night
moved
to our house & our
battlemaps & plethora of figures
he tamed the monster he created
not the resin printer–instead
teaching me the basics
of miniature painting
suggested
I should paint my own figures–
because age makes my hands
shake
eyes weak I
switched
from standard 32mm figures to
75mm
now two-thirds of our upstairs office
occupied
by my painting station
wide & long shelf
in our bedroom
covered
with the figures I have painted
shared
with our D&D group
praised
by the master figure painter
for me
greatest praise of all!
How we mourn his loss, dear sister!
We weep as he is no longer with us
but we rejoice for him
clever thief, pyromaniac, clown
at heart our weapons
master miniature painter
our dear brother–when
the news came
we were playing D&D
teaching new friends the game
they suggested they
should leave
allow us space
to grieve–I said
“No, Beau would want us
to keep playing” to honor
clever thief with towering ego
weapons master miniature painter
me his apprentice now become
master passing
his knowledge & skills
to member of our new group
bitten by the painting bug
now I print miniatures for her
each one removed from my
Mars 3 resin printer–
still working after many years
hundreds of small figures–
gift from the master painter–
I think of him as each
figure comes off
printer–washed & cured
labeled carefully
for a new apprentice painter
honoring our dear brother, Beau.
Clyde B. Northrup 
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