Đwerȝar Föðr, Twergar Fater, Dvergar Föðr,
Craftsman, smith; miner,
Born of Alβiz Alfar Föðr,
Apprentice to his great smith uncle,
βanðr Døkkálfar,
Called Svartálf, Black Elf,
Preferring the blackness of the mines
To the brightness of the day.

Dug out the labrynth underground
Mine city of Twerias,
Under the misty plains of Niðavellir,
Within sight of the spot
Where moonbeams shone
On the surface of the Rhun,
Where Móðsognir dug
And Durinn forged treasures
For elves, men, and gods:
Swords and spears,
Cups and cauldrens,
War hammers and wigs.

Four treasures for Alfheim,
Destined for Éire.
Thirteen treasures for Albion,
Isle of Alfar.
Six treasures for Asgard,
Forged in mischief,
Powerless to save them from thier doom.


Pronunciation Guide:
Đwerȝaz = Thwer-yaz (“th” as in father)
Đwerȝaz = Thwer-yar (“th” as in father)
Föðr = Fa-ther
Twergar = Twer-gar
Fater = Fah-ter
Dvergar = D-verg-ar (Old Norse, Dwarves, Plural of Dvergr)
Alβiz = Al-viz
Alfar = Al-far (old Norse, Elf)
βanðr =Van-thur (“th” as in father)
Døkkálfar = Dock-Al-Far
Twerias = Twer-ee-ahs
Niðavellir = Nith-a-vel-ear (“th” as in father)
Móðsognir = Moeth-sog-near (“th” as in father)
Alfheim = Alf-haym
Éire = Air-eh

Image:An illustration of two dwarves for Völuspá by Lorenz Frølich. Published in 1895 in Karl Gjellerup’s Den ældre Eddas Gudesange. Found on Wikimedia Commons.


The Wick’d Day of Destiny

Do you recall that wick’d day of destiny
At Camlann when Arthur fell
Near the corpse of murderous Mordred,
Nephew, some say the rightful heir
By the reckoning of the old ways,
Through his mothers blood,
As still practiced by our Pictish cousins to the north,
His noble blood still staining Caliburn’s blade?

The great king outlasting his sister’s son
By mere hours.
Enough to ensure his enchanted elvish blade
Was returned from whence it came,
Flung into calm waters,
Or—perhapse–taken over water
To that other worldly island
where it was forged by fay hands.

The king is dead,
The kingdom lost, fractured beyond repair.
Though the crown passes to another
None could now hold back the tide
That Vortigern let loose:
The barbarian men
Pushing us west and north,
And naming the land for themselves.

Yet hope still persists
In the tales we tell,
That the king merely sleeps,
Recovering from deadly wounds,
Nursed by fay magics.
To return one day,
Grasp his mighty sword,
And set us free.


Of Alfar and Dvergar

Alβiz Alfar Föðr,
Born of moonbeams
Dancing on the fog of the forrest
Near the river of Rhun,
Patriarch to seven brothers and sisters
Awoken on the riverbank.

Married Nerþuz, earth mother,
Daughter of sunlight
Refracted off the dew drops
Dripping from a rose petal.

Five sons and four cities founded
In the north west of the world,
Where the Alfar found a home:
Falȝaz the wise, student of Nature,
Keeper of her secrets.
Warrior twins, Gorȝaz and Finđȝaz,
Defenders of their tribe.
Murȝaz the cultivator
Of fruits, vegitables, and lamb.
Đwerȝaz the fabricator,
Crafting tools, weapons and treasures
For his parents, brothers, and people.

Đwerȝaz Dvergar Föðr,
Molding metals as if so much clay.
Móðsognir Đwerȝaz-son
Digging at the misty dark
Mines of Niðavellir,
Searching the earths for metals and gems
For his father and brother, Durinn,
To mold into swords, stones, spears and cauldrons,
Treasures kept in city vaults
Until their time of need.


Pronunciation Guide:
Alfar = Al-far (old Norse, Elf)
Dvergar = D-verg-ar (Old Norse, Dwarves, Plural of Dvergr)
Alβiz = Al-viz
Föðr = Fa-ther
Rhun = Rune
Nerþuz = Ner-thooz (“th” as in Thor)
Falȝaz = Fal-yaz
Gorȝaz = Gore-yaz
Finđȝaz = Finth-yaz (“th” as in father)
Murȝaz = Mer-yaz
Đwerȝaz = Thwer-yaz (“th” as in father)
Móðsognir = Moeth-sog-near (“th” as in father)
Niðavellir = Nith-a-vel-ear (“th” as in father)

Children of Danu

Danu, our mother,
Goddess of the Danube,
Sister of the Rhine,
Liquid lifeblood
Of Germani and Kelts.

Mother of Irish gods,
Who arrive in Éire
Riding clouds of mist and fire.
Ruling the Emerald Isle
Til the coming of the sons of Míl
Drove them to retreat underground,
Into the ancient sídhe,
Shadows in the Otherworld.


Pronunciation key:
Danu – Dan-oo
Germani – Jer-MAN-ee
Éire – Air-ya
sidhe – shee.

Note: I am not very knowledgeable when it comes to Irish Gaelic pronunciations, so some of these may not be exact. Corrections are welcome!

Twilight Visions

A one-armed Odin-eyed
Mad martyr prophet
Stands at the edge of the abyss,
Visions of the White Wyrm
Strangling creation; swallowing time.

Twilight stars fall,
Diamonds plunged in velvet night,
Grandsons kill grandfathers
Before fathers are conceived,
Chaos and Paradox burn
The charred corpse of causality.
Yesterday, today; tomorrow
Collapse on themselves
Folding into singularity:
The final moment.

Wolves loose their chains,
Feasting on Sun, Moon and Sky.
Darkness & silence fall.
The Question left unanswered.


This poem was originally published on The Ink Owl on 8/28/17 as part of his writing prompt challenge using the phrase ‘Into the Deep I Plunge’ to create a fantasy based piece.

Staring into the Flames

Dedicated to the brave men and women fighting all the wild fires in Oregon
(And everywhere!)


Raging fires of Muspelheim
Flaming sword of Surtr,
Gentle beautiful glow
Of destruction peers over the ridge.

A brigade of brave warriors,
Oath sworn to Móðir Jorð,
Stand ready in defense
Of her ancient holy lodge,
Prepared to give no quarter
And surrender no ground,
Facing down the Eldjötnar
And sons of Muspel,
Tearing through the forests of Freyja,
Burning Miðgarð black.

Oðinn’s army,
Children of Ash and Elm,
Siblings of Oak and Fir,
Stand at the edge of Ragnarok
Without fear.



Muspelheim = Moo-spell-haym
Móðir Jorð = Moe-thear Yorth (Th as in father) – “Mother Jorð (Earth)”
Eldjötnar = Eld-Yote-nar
Freyja = Frey-ya
Miðgarð = Mith-garth (Th as in Father)
Oðinn = Oh-thin (TH as in Father)
Ragnarök = Rag-na-rock

Pictures are of the Elk Creek Fire currently burning (September ’17) along the Columbia River in Oregon.

If Looks Could Kill (a Tanka)


Murky dark hallways
Stone statues silently scream
Frozen in granite
Forever held in terror
The Gorgon smiles; turns away


This is my response to Colleen’s Weekly #Poetry Challenge No. 48 #Haiku #Tanka #Haibun: STONE & TURN

Image is Medusa by Arnold Böcklin (16 October 1827 – 16 January 1901). Found on Wikimedia Commons.


Heimdall’s horn,
Horn of Gondor
Slow gong of the Cloister Bell
Ringing from the depths of the TARDIS.
A call to arms,
Sent from the watchtower on the bridge,
Across the lands of Asgard,
A cry for help
Echoing the shores of Nen Hithoel,
From Amon Hen to Minas Tirith.
The halflings are gone,
The Enemy advances,
Twilight is dawning,
This is the end,
But the moment has been prepared for.


Anticipating the Eclipse


Ash in the air,
Smoke in the sky
Casting a jaundice hue
Across the high desert plains.

Sól is scared and nervous,
Constantly on the run from
Wild warg Sköll Fenrir-son,
Fated to swallow her whole,
When twilight falls on Asgard.

Rumors fly that the end is nigh,
Darkness shall fall upon the Earth,
The gods will fall where they stand,
All else awaiting rebirth.

Yet rumors lie, it cannot be denied,
Perhaps brother Máni
Is just driving too close
In the passing lane?

Redmond, Oregon – 08/19/2017

Pronunciation Key for Old Norse words:
Sól = soul (Old Norse, ‘sun’)
Sköll = Skole (Rhymes with “toll”)
Fenrir = FEN-rear
Máni = MAH-nee (Old Norse, ‘moon’)

Illustration: “The Wolves Pursuing Sol and Mani” (1909) by J. C. Dollman. Found at WikiMedia Commons.

Early Morning Greetings

Orion rise early, before morning,
Jeweled belt shining in the night,
Waving good-bye
As I leave for work.

Bright Selene peeks out
From mother Gaia’s shadow
While orange clad Eos
Prepares to unlock the gates
For Helios’ daily ride.