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Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

For Empedokles

January 23, 2018 2 comments

Earth wove you up
Water filled you up
Air enlivened you
Fire inspired you

Earth dried and cooled
Your flesh was born
Water cooled and moistened
Your blood flowed
Air moistened and warmed
Your breath rose
Fire warmed and dried
Your spirit ascended

The oldest ways
Bore your gift
Knowledge honed
Inspiration made

Revealer of the Fourfold Root!
Revealer of the Elements’ Flow!
Revealer of Conjunctions!
Revealer of the Great Work!

O Rhizômatos!
O Magos!
O Iatromantis!
O Theios Anêr!

Bless and impart Your Wisdom!
Bless and impart Your Genius!
Bless and impart Your Knowledge!
Bless and impart Your Inspiration!

 

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A Cleansing Prayer to Lykeios

January 14, 2018 1 comment

O Lykeios, O purifying Wolf God!
O You, Whose breath blows away miasma
O You, Whose teeth rend the evil spirits
O You, Whose tongue uplifts in howling song
Bless and purify me, cleanse and sanctify me
That I may howl Your praise and run in Your Presence!

Submissions to Odin’s Agon

December 31, 2017 Leave a comment

For Óðrerir’s Brewer

You kindled in me a love for brewing
Water, honey, yeast
Sacred magic, old magic

Kvasir’s brood, your spit

Relaxing and maddening

Teasing out the ties
Inspiration strikes
Fury froths

Growling forth from each sip, each gulp

May each brew be a worthy working

Each bottle a sacred vessel

Each glass a welcome offering

Alliterative Poem to Odin

Wind and wound

Scream and spell

Health and harm

Scar and sense

Wrath and release

Power and purpose

Grey and gold

Eye and iron

Hanged and hale



Making Midgard


When the Sons of Borr took up the spear

No ravens flew or wolves roamed

Nifelheim was far too cold

Muspelheim far too hot

They dreamed of more than ice and mist, fire and smoke

A World teaming with life, with warmth and with cold

A World full of flowing waters and rain

A World between the the Worlds

So when They slew Ymir

The Sons of Borr took up the best of all Worlds to make Midgard

Fire from Muspelheim gifted by Surtr

Ice from Nifelheim taken from Ymir

Fertility from Vanaheim gifted by Freya, Freyr, and Njordr

Wildness from Jotunheim made by the Jotnar

Riches from Svartalfheim dug deep by the Dvergar

Liminality from Alfaheim made by the Alfar

Death from Helheim overseen by Hela

Potential from the Ginnungagap woven by the Nornir

Within the Middle Yard each World was woven to the others

Crafted with care by the Sons of Borr

A Small Offering

November 2, 2017 Leave a comment

I could hear the crows calling
The small cage was empty

The suet was all gone and the birds were hungry
So I laid out another offering

Peanuts for good growth and warmth in winter
A small offering that would save lives

Something shifted as I put the offering in
Shut the cage firmly and checked how it hung

It was acceptance
I hear you, landvaettir

Remembering the Warrior Dead

November 2, 2017 Leave a comment

You lie in a fen
Shield cloven beside you
Sword bent

You lie in a field
Gun beneath you
Magazine empty

You lie in a mound
Spear beside you
Descendants gathered

You lie in a grave
Polished oak embraces you
Quiet rest

You lie in every soil and water
Every place given your body and blood
All hail the Warrior Dead

The Harvest is In

October 30, 2017 Leave a comment

The harvest is in
The fields are hewn down
The harvest is in
The lands are cold
The harvest is in
The slaughters are done
All is prepared for the winter is come

The harvest is in
The home fires are lit
The harvest is in
The logs are arranged
The harvest is in
The trees are all cut
All stop for a rest for the winter is come

The harvest is in
The Ancestors gather
The harvest is in
The Disir are close
The harvest is in
The Väter are waiting
All rest by the Fires for the winter is come

The Call

October 1, 2017 Leave a comment

I can hear your paws grab the earth, your hooves strike the ground
I can smell your fur, your excitement as you all are bidden on
I can taste your fury, the adrenaline on the wind
I can feel your gait, your strides as you seek
I can see your numbers, your countless multitudes that gallop and run
I know your call, your howling, trumpeting, shrieking mass that calls me
The Wild Host calls!  Wuotas Heer calls!  The Wild Hunt calls!

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