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.
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.
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)
Watching you grow up
Grateful for every moment
Bound by love, not blood.
Baseball, Jedi, and Time Lords
I never want it to end.
My fourth response to Colleen’s Weekly #Poetry Tuesday Challenge Recap & A Month of November Poetry Prompts.
Passing through eternity,
Through the cycles of infinity.
Things grow and flourish,
Decay and die,
Each end a beginning,
Each beginning and end,
Sometimes the same end,
The same beginning.
Circles and cycles of history,
Patterns in the fog,
Order in the chaos,
A lotus flower in the swamp.
Summer falls into Winter
Frozen until Spring
My second response to Colleen’s Weekly #Poetry Tuesday Challenge Recap & A Month of November Poetry Prompts.
Twilight stars arise
Lighting the midnight highway
There’s nothing to fear
My first response to Colleen’s Weekly #Poetry Tuesday Challenge Recap & A Month of November Poetry Prompts.
I’ve felt old and ancient
Since I was 12 years old,
Worn out, road weary,
For reasons unexplained
Living in the Cleaver household
In an idyllic isolated Oregon valley.
It made me want to believe in reincarnation,
The only explanation for the
Spread thin butter feeling
That started in the 3rd grade
When I reasoned out
That death meant oblivion
Not fluffy clouds and angels,
Training myself not to think of it,
To fend off the icy black hole
Opening under my sternum,
Crushing everything within its event horizon.
I lay in bed, tears streaming cheeks,
meaninglesness pressing down; suffocating
I start to scream,
Pretending to have had a nightmare,
So my mother will come, hold, and console.
Unable to articulate the existential crisis
Of an 8 year old boy.
Chaos around you:
Be in the world, not of it.
Chaos within you:
Be still, breath,
Be present in this moment,
The only true reality.
Be mindful of your thoughts,
Be aware of your reactions.
The only things you truly control.
Find refuge in the palace of your mind,
That quiet place inside your soul.
A Cyprian merchant ship
Wrecked on Grecian shores.
Discovered the wisdom of a dead man
In an Athenian bookstore.
Clutched the robes of a dog
Until he promised to teach
How to desire nothing but virtue.
Graduating from the kennel
To teach on the porch:
A good flow of life
Lived in accordance with nature,
A philosophy that freed
Slaves and emperors alike.
Zeno of Citium (c. 334-c. 262 BCE) was a Hellenistic Philosopher who founded the Stoic School in Athens around 300 BCE.
A peaceful blackness
Quiet murmuring giants
The space between stars.
This is my response to Colleen’s Weekly #Poetry Tuesday Challenge: Quiet & Space.
Shapes on the cave wall
Mind-mist, distorted; unreal
Crawl into the light
Eyes adjust to sunlight
Reality seems insane
This was written in response to Colleen’s Weekly Poetry Challenge No. 53 – MIST & SHAPE.