Loki’s Punishment

Baldr’s death for all to see
faithful Sigyn hears his plea
Loki has yet to break free

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“The serpent drips venom from above him that Sigyn collects into a bowl; however, she must empty the bowl when it is full, and the venom that drips in the meantime causes Loki to writhe in pain, thereby causing earthquakes.”
(taken from Wikipedia)

photo credits: kabroder.tumblr.com

Dawn/Dusk

oh, how i rejoice!
our time now, so near
my vision, so clear…
how i long to hear the sound of your voice.

I am not afraid.
My yearnings, appeased; my hunger, sated;
my thirst, quenched. The last sip of life’s nectar vivid on my tongue, I
bask in the delight it brings and
look back,
no tear hidden in the corner of my eye.

will you know me by heart?
one we have been
your skin under my skin –
we will make our way, soon, we must part.

How much I have seen.
I smile at days past – would I have smiled then? I do
not know… A blur of emotions, experiences; wanting to trade
them
would be a lie. I am my own sculptor; my actions –
my hammer and chisel.

oh, you will always be mine.
my love is so strong,
in my arms you belong
for a lifetime will our bond shine.

I know I must go. We all must go.
While
I wait for the when and how, I write these lines, dip my quill
into life’s ink one last time…
Eventually, I will take off my glasses and lay them to rest – next to my now
empty glass, that once contained
the sweetest and most precious nectar of all.

how long, until we meet?
your movement i feel
my daughter, so real
i look forward to you, ma petite.

… inspired by dVerse‘s wonderful prose/poetry prompt. thanks Anna!

Touch of the Past (rewritten)

i rewrote this because of PoetJanstie‘s gentle nudge… thank you for making the wheels turn again – much appreciated. it would not leave me alone. 🙂


autumn’s gift, draped carefully
enshrouding
mournful paths to the past,
to soothe
tears’ burdensome sting ~
sweet sadness,
uplifted by nature’s gentle touch

rows and rows ~
gravestones,
towering high, majestic
some small,
cracked and bruised
frail and broken
forlorn?
forgotten?

old, they whisper
venerable
the earthen beds…
monuments in time

names, embedded in stone
moss-accentuated ~
i picture their faces,
and breathe life
into the Long Gone
one more time

the oaks’ heavy boughs
pick my thoughts,
extract,
lift with ease, to join
trees’ leafy heads (up in the clouds) ~
as if they weigh nothing

and in the company
of the dead
i feel comforted,
for they know all the stories,
smile warmly
and never judge

and in the company
of the dead
i find
my heart,
my voice,
my sweet solitude.

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photo credits: jamiesanford.com

Touch of the Past

uneven, stony paths
overgrown,
my steps
disturb the leaves ~
a colorful blanket,
carefully draped

sweet sadness
grips me,
takes hold
and settles
my racing, agitated mind

rows and rows ~
gravestones,
towering high, majestic
some small,
cracked and bruised
frail and broken
forlorn?
forgotten?

old, they whisper
venerable
the earthen beds…
monuments in time

names, embedded in stone
moss-accentuated ~
i picture their faces,
and breathe life
into the Long Gone
one more time

the oaks’ heavy boughs
pick at my thoughts,
extract,
lift with ease, to join
trees’ leafy heads (up in the clouds) ~
as if they weigh nothing

and in the company
of the dead
i feel comforted,
for they know all the stories,
smile warmly
and never judge

and in the company
of the dead
i find
my heart,
my voice,
my sweet solitude.

… following dVerse‘s call for beautiful solitude. this is my place… where is yours?
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photo credits: jamiesanford.com

The Irony of Life

the first frown appears
on the newborn’s face
while the father
takes his last breath

too late
for father and son
to lock their eyes
and know
the bond

the newborn’s wails,
the flatline’s shrill sound
are the soundtrack
to the mother’s heavy tears

The Cruel End to Love

the woman
skin wrinkled and soft
tried to stand tall,
to get back
on her feet.
all
she ever thought about
was her love,
her soulmate,
her husband.
little did she know
that her husband
passed on
while she still fought
to go back home.

now the footsteps of doom
draw near
bad tidings
brought upon her
by a familiar face.
if she will still
have the strength
to stand tall…
i do not know.

i dread
to see her eyes
in the morning.

Unforgiving in Life

he was deaf
to her cries
as she stood
in the
windblown alley
calling out to him.
heavy snow
fell overnight –
muffled her
apologies.
in the morning
they discovered
her lifeless silhouette
under a soft, white blanket
on his doorstep.
he died
of heartache
the following night
for after she was gone
he realized
that he had
loved her…

loved her
more than life.

Embracing the Wild

far and beyond
you went,
a journey
taking your breath
and in the end,
your last as well.
how many wonders
you encountered,
how clean and pure
you could experience life
in the most fulfilling way.
absolute freedom –
not many
can say
they truly experienced it.
and so
i wish you well…
for you are
among the most wise
who ever lived
on this earth.
you opened your eyes
to the beauty
of things.
may you
never regret
you paid with your life
for the majestic things
you witnessed.

(inspired by the book “Into the Wild” by Jon Krakauer)

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photo credits: wildernessjourney.wikispaces.com, 3.bp.blogspot.com

The Riders of Fate

thundering hooves
on the battlefield
announced their presence

the warriors
fighting with
raw steel and willpower
roared at the sky
laughed
in the face
of the enemy
for they knew
the Valkyries
would lead
the most fearless,
the most honorable
dead
to the halls
of Valhalla.

they had nothing to lose
and watched
the fierce and beautiful
harbingers of death
draw closer

and in the heat of battle
they did
what they
had come for.

Bloodlust

at the bottom of the pit
the vultures sat
feasting on
bloody bones
and decaying flesh.
the warrior
looked down
on his fallen comrades
raised his bloody axe
towards the dark sky
and cried out
for revenge.

Times of Relief

on shimmering wings
the girl took to flight,
uplifted by billowing breeze

feeling small all her life
she struck free of her bonds
no more, being told she’d displease

she lifted her chin
and she soared through the air,
set out to examine the world

and she saw distant shores,
lush, wide grasslands, so green
taking in all the sights as she whirled

after seeing it all,
after sating the need
it was time to go home one last time

all her life she had been
just a shadow, so faint,
just a shade of a joyless old mime

as she sat on her grave,
staring at sullen earth
looking down at the snow and the frost

a sweet sigh left her lips
and she smiled to herself
quite amazed, she was no longer lost

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photo credits: freeimagesarchive.com

Crime Scene

droplets of blood
littering the floor
like dark red marbles
on faded parquet.

the precise work
of
the murderer
didn’t go
as planned
and so
he had to
unleash
the red flood
to cover up
his tracks.

improvising,
he took pride in it.

the way
the body was draped,
“it” was draped
across the
black leather couch
made his heart flutter,
adrenaline rush,
his mouth turn dry.

he could not feel
the disgust
everyone else felt
while looking at his work.

for him,
his work
was perfection.

Tidings

waxy fingers
turn brittle pages,
carefully.
the shell calls out
to the innocent
shrouded in blindness.
one more life
scratched off
the surface of the earth.

the ignorant always wanted
to be treated special.

in the end, we are all the same.

The Cycle

she opened her eyes
in her mother’s strong arms
so lively and still oh so frail

smiling faces looked back
soothing voices her guide
and she slept to her grandmother’s tale

tiny feet running fast
getting chased by her dad
through the garden, so many a day

her sweet laughter rang out
making loving hearts sing
as she played with sun’s colorful ray

she got older and met
the first love of her life
and she cherished the feelings that grew

with her man by her side
she gave birth to a child
cherishing the new soul through and through

when the first wisps of grey
touched her long, silky hair
she witnessed her sweet son grow strong

full of life as he was
then, she knew she’d done well
and she hoped he would never go wrong

when she lay, so worn out
in her family’s home
her son held her, as long as it took

and she closed her wise eyes
to the warmth of his touch
while death turned the last page in her book