Poetry Blogs (Yggdrasil)
I know myself hanging there,
on that windy tree,
whose roots are unknown,
a sacrifice of myself to myself,
Wounded by my spear Gungnir,
for nine long nights and days I hung,
No food nor drink was brought to me,
Sinking into death they appeared,
Reaching out with a scream,
I grasped the runes,
and sunk from the tree,
with a sigh.
Thursday 16th October 2014 9:04 am
Noblest of trees.
where Gods assembled daily at their courts.
Nine worlds sat around you.
Your branches stretched towards the heavens –
home of wyrm, eagle and stags.
Your roots in three directions -
to spring and wells.
Creator of the valley dew.
at the onset of Ragnarok
you shivered and giants walked the earth.
Monday 21st January 2013 3:29 pm