Tags: poetry

eyes

A poem for Loki

How long did You wait
Out there in the cold
While the embers died out
And the century grew old

I’ve shut the night out
The curtains are drawn
I curl up and wait for
The birth of the dawn

So patient, so still
You waited out there
But I just fell deeper
Gave in to despair

Enter my world now
Of shadows and tears
Share with me Your fire
Burn the grief and fears

Tear off me these chains
-I’ve built my life on lies
Embrace me in Your arms
My Love with emerald eyes

flower crown

Some poetry, sorry it's long

I've had this kicking around for a while, but was finally brave enough to post it here. Constructive criticism is always welcome!


Straining ever upward, arms like white willow,
hands held wide to hold the moonlike bowl,
grim she is, full of wild patience and silent
as the shadow, she attends to her heart's duty.

Acid-bitter hatred, drop by drop
fills the trembling void of the moonbowl
creeps up like stealthy evil
drop by drop filling and defiling its curve.
Slender fingers willow long burn as
drop by drop fills the bowl and overflows,
drop by drop the poison trickles down
quivering arms raised high, spilling death
and agony along her own frame, until
at last she must turn away to empty
the moon darkened with foul venegance.

Loud ring the cries like frost-split stones,
the roar of the whale-road sings softer in the gale
than does He, bound to bear the wrath of those
doomed to die of their hubris.
His curses rend the sky, damned yet still shrieking defiance
to those who would not hear his words and now
cannot dare to turn away. Far away his kinfolk
gather, great of arms and mighty, thinking deep
on the justice of the gods.

Swiftly as soaring falcon she flies,
willowslender grace etched as the steel is marked
by tempering blow and quenching oil,
to moonward raise the moonlike bowl
to catch again the petty hate, to wish
the bowl were indeed the moon
to catch the greater share of vitriol and bile
spewed forth from jealous hearts and
to grant greater rest to Him,
her heart. Again, upward flings her arms,
praying for the strength of mountains.

Acid-bitter hatred, drop by drop
fills the trembling void of the moonbowl
creeps up like stealthy evil
drop by drop filling and defiling its curve.
Knowing how the agony gathers there
willow steady she stands, trembling hands
determined as the winter wind to have their way.
Slender fingers willow long burn as
drop by drop fills the bowl and overflows.
Bearing with stern heart the ache, the burn
drop by drop, like melting snow flow her tears
drop by drop the poison trickles down
quivering arms raised high, spilling death
and agony along her own frame, until
at last she must turn away to empty
the moon darkened with foul venegance
again and again, grim and determined,
heedless of the cost she harvests the
hatered and shame that falls blindly
from the gods above.

Does she wonder: how can they say they are Good?
Does she question: by what right do they call Him evil?

Skalds did not ask her story, nor sing her song.
Lost are the thoughts of faithful Sigyn
as she rose and bent like stormtossed willow between grief and pain.
Louder than the ringing of swords, brighter than weregild shine her actions
until Yggdrasil falls will they be remembered.
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Warning, Trickster

Not exactly a poetry archive but

I've been thinking of gathering a lot of loki and trickster themed poetry together into a word & wordperfect formats for the gang here, and hosting the files on my site.
If you're cool with it, and have some poems you'd like included (you will retain all your rights and it will be done with credit) please comment to this with a link to the poem, or the poem you'd like, and the name you'd like given credit under. I'll post the resulting creation within a week or two for snagging free of charge for the enjoyment of the community.
-Rootfire
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