posted
Beats the hell out of me why. I am not a poem person. Never wrote one before in my life, I don't think. Never really had the patience for it, or at least I didn't think so, but today I just sat down and plunked one out in the middle of reading. I have no idea if it's any good or not. It was fun, though.
Don't really have a name for it.
In the depths of the morn a horn blows And the minds of the listless break In the gray of the daybreak a cry sounds Behold, the Sleeper wakes
From the tombs of the dead gods he walks now And the bones of the earth shall soon shake Through the rivers of mud he now trudges Behold, the Sleeper wakes
The fury of night he brings with him The wildness, cruelty, the hate His soul is a pale blade shining Behold, the Sleeper wakes
From the darkness and snow From the cries and the woe
From the rage and the madness and the cold dark storm From the long black dream to the distant grim bourne
Behold, the Sleeper wakes Behold, the Sleeper wakes
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posted
I was actually thinking of it more along the lines of some crazy part of a Norse skaldic poem. Reading William Morris right now, so I'm into the whole saga tradition. Tried to bring that up with the icy, muddy setting and the use of "pale blade" and "bourne."
quote: I, too, dislike it: Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one discovers in it after all, a place for the genuine. -Marianne Moore
posted
That was sorta what I was going for, the whole folk-myth feel to it. I think it's about Fenris. I think.
EDIT: As is obvious, I am oblivious to much of the techincal rules of poetry. This is what you get when you read translated Icelandic kennings a lot, which don't work out so well.
[ March 07, 2005, 04:24 PM: Message edited by: Book ]
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