Best Viking Poems
I left my home, the world to roam
it’s been now twelve years gone.
From a boy to a man
was a dreadful short span,
as I journeyed to valleys beyond.
Now the king, he has spoken
and battle has broken,
I’m wise to the ways of the world.
Long on the sword,
as we seek our reward,
to see our flag unfurled…
Sailed by starry dark of night,
our longships cross the sea.
Where a hundred headless horsemen
guard the gates of Galilee.
Each dawn’s a daily dance of death,
through battle smoke like dragon’s breath.
With echo axe to armor chink,
each onslaught we rebuffed.
You can invite the devil for a drink
…if you think you’re man enough.
Heavy’s the head that wears the crown,
when the blood of brothers’ beckons.
Weak is the sword, as it lies on the ground.
If there’s a will, there’s a way,
there are weapons.
But once the battle has ended
and our journeys’ been made,
there’ll be air in my lungs,
and blood on my blade.
As was foretold, our flag was unrolled
in the past… now once again!
Vikings prevail, each time we sail,
in the age of wooden ships
… and iron men.
Copyright © 2018
Exercise Fanatic Viking
Biking
Viking
Viking Good at Volleyball
Spiking
Viking
If Vikings had Invaded Thailand
Viking
Thai King
An Eye-catching Viking
Striking
Viking
Norseman on Foot
Hiking
Viking
Viking Jockey
Horseman
Norseman
The Epitome of the Viking
Gorier
Warrior
May 15, 2022
for A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
Viking Funeral
When that day comes that I will die
Dress me in the finest clothes
Patterned from ecru silken threads
In contrast with my hazel eyes
As the sun sets west and reflects
upon the sea so warm and blue
Place me in a sailing craft
Hand carved from exquisite teak
Surround me with my memories
My keepsakes and my written words
When the tide goes out to join the sea
please set my sails all pointed east
Aim and shoot a flaming shaft
To pierce the boat set it aflame
And consume me on my final quest
to delve into my watery nest
When the last flame is extinguished,
Retrieve my ashes from the craft
And place them in an marble jar
And toss them in the ocean deep
My life has always been mundane
I never lived to seize the day
My luck and judgements never meshed
My essence nor my core refreshed
To take a trip in such a way
To be remembered on that day
Will seal the memory of my death
When I have breathed my final breath
*Revised Poem from years ago 4/3/2017
Viking Funeral
When that day comes that I will die
Dress me in the finest clothing
Patterned from a textured sharksin
As the sun sets east and reflects
upon the sea so warm and blue
Place me in a red sailing craft
Hand carved from an exquisite teak
Surround me with my memories
My keepsakes and my written words
And when the tide goes out to sea
You may set my sails pointed west
Aim and shoot a flaming arrow
To pierce the boat set it aflame
And consume me on my final sail
When the last flame is extinguished,
Retrieve my ashes from the craft
And place them in an marble jar
And toss it in the ocean deep
My life has always been mundane
I never lived to seize the day
Good luck and judgements never meshed
My essence nor my core refreshed
To take a trip in such a way
To be remembered on that day
Will seal the memory of my death
When I have breathed my final breath
*Revised Poem from years ago
Viking, Viking burning bright,
on a pyre in the night,
though the wind howls and bites,
this funeral is out-of-sight!
Through the cold and falling snow,
on the lake your fire glows,
the ships combusts, and now I know
this here is how I want to go.
*-Obviously patterned off William Blake's famous poem 'The Tyger.'
Viking me, I want to be
warrior culture, decadent vulture
plunder & pillage, every village
navigate the sea, longboat to be
clash of steel, organic feel
Viking Me, I want to be
impenetrable shield wall, kingdom fall
Valhalla bound nomads, Victorious death glad
Discovery of Vinland, Vigilance of Norse man
Expedition by Erichson, conquest by Self assertion
Viking me, I want to be
slayer of Saxons, settle in Briton
cognizant of victory, details are gory
bringing cathartic terror, no maidens fairer
discernment of Odin’s Eye, Viking battle cry
Viking me, I want to be
Winter harvest feast, sacrifice the beast
preserve Heathen blood, The Christian flood
warlike mind, one of a kind
unstoppable force, ultra violent source
The horned helmet of the dawn has met my sight
They’re shouting loudly, that I’m wrong – I’m right
The sky is putting on the armour of mournful clouds
I’m man with weapon I’m not farmer let someone shouts.
I’ve taken sword with hand of vengeance I’ve taken shield
I’ve never seen the kind angels and I have built
the ship to sail in land of Glory to seek and find
And maybe I will tell this story for famous Skald.
The morning’s giving me direction to be the One
I’m waiting so for satisfaction my will be done
I carry woes and pain and fury on peak of sword
I want to win I want it truly to be the lord.
I’ll share the blood without the weeping there is no choice
I hear myself that death is creeping I hear the noise
of battle and I kill with smile I’m tough as stone
I see the dead they stand like file I see the dawn.
Flying alone
over fury enthroned
Its colors reign free
and clear
The enemy stained
all freedom regained
Covered in blood
spent and dear
Stitched yellow and blue
its messages true
That Svealand does
not run
To hang steadfast
and slay the past
And carry our glory
sum
A crest ablaze
through fire and haze
Horses hooves high in
the air
Now honor bound
on sacred ground
Heralding death
—our cross to bear
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
For days now, my wife, i and some friends, have been working on costumes for Viking's day at our up coming Renaissance festival, went suddenly Poetry Fever hit, this is the result---hope you enjoy it---God Bless
No Viking Way
I used to be like Hagar The Horrible
Wearing things that were despicable and deplorable
But now those days have past
I stopped dressing like an ass
And the way I look today, is just adorable
I stopped killing wild animals for fur
Thought the anger from the Gods it may incur
I just have to make my stance
And start wearing woolen pants
I'm sorry, this is one pot, I must stir
Yes, I'm laying down my sword and my axe
No more Nordstroms, I'm shopping down at Saks
I'm over leather, Yes it's true
a polyester blend will do
I saw one that I liked, at MaraMax
So, say goodbye to the horns upon my head
It's time I think, to put those things to bed
With some silk and some cotton
The old way's soon forgotten
The Brand New Viking way is here instead
Now it's true, it's gonna take some work
To stop dressing, like some big bad crumby jerk
But with our influences and our passion
We'll create a whole new fashion
And when they see how Hot we look
They'll go Berserk
Limerick : Once a shocking Norseman crowned Viking
Once a shocking Norseman crowned Viking
Took his flaxen men on an ice outing
They lusted for fat Finns
Knocked walrus and dolphins
Why Arctic now with Vi-wal-phins seething.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
The Viking gallery slipped quietly through the night
the oars just barely skimming the gentle swell
sails were fur-lowed tight to help hide it from sight
the warriors ready for the signal sounded by the bell
Silently they landed, ferocious was their appearance
wielding their great battle axes wearing winged helmets
they crept up on the sleeping village in timeless trance
plundering and pillaging killing some helpless pets
Taking captive the fairest of the maids enslaving burly men
to work the gallery's oars, filling the hold with stolen treasure
drinking wine from carved horns and spit roasting a tasty hen
soon well into their cups they ravished most maids keeping one pure
She of flaxen hair and hour glass figure and tender years was spared
a most fitting present for their king, the rest would be auctioned for profit
the coin added to the treasury. Now under full sail the waves they dared
knowing a welcome most raucous awaited they now their torches lit
Their king was most pleased with his gift and vowed they would be wed
a great feast was prepared and the mead flowed thick and sweetly
the Viking cheered as their king took the maid first as wife then to bed
weeping as she was ravished, he rode her like a bull until she bled badly
Back to the feast he downed some horns then lay down to sleep
the maid waited until all was silent and then into his heart she struck deep
she took back her shame as he lay dying knowing her own death she did reap
turning the dagger on herself her life no value she slipped into eternal sleep
written 05/01/2014
contest Any Poem Any Subject
The Last Viking
There had been a war in my part of the world, peace there is never one,
people fight wars in other parts of the world more brutal than ever before.
The first winter of peace was the coldest anyone old could remember and
ducks feet froze on the ice they could not move and became prey to rats
and human scum who threw stones at the ducks satisfying a biblical instinct.
A tree in the park had fallen and a skeleton was discovered it was to be
excavated the next day, but it disappeared I think it had reassembled itself
broken into a dress shop and covered his bones with the skin of dead people.
A long very thin man had been observed outside a lady`s lingerie shop late
one evening, masturbating, what else to do after being dead under a tree for
five hundred years.
At a museum in the Isle of Man, I saw the thumb of a Viking in a glass cage
within a glass cage surrounded by precious objects ladies wore at the time
It was pathetic there he was fighting and living not knowing his thumb would
live forever in a tiny glass cage
See! Air is spotless. I give you its blood!
I impose Poetry´s Knife where you post
You who slept to kiss all and any Tod
A Prince for your home as a foolish host!
You had nerve to pull Arms against my Man
This Viking Armada waits your shoreline
It´s you who tried my song to scan
Go song! To Athen, London, back to Rhine
And when I wrote your Name in chilly air
I called you things you never really heard
Yet my melody hurts down to a hair
I´m no longer my tribe´s and line´s nerd
Sweden was a powerful Viking land
I take a blood-stained shield at my last stand
In the grand days of old let the truth be told/
Those ships and mate's in plight,
With ancient fool's who had launched in an all night battle !
The one who stayed alone and quiet would lose/
A much happy time of old !
Mediocre drawn beers as an angry mob grew bolder !
For the little troll would oft' loosen his undergarments ?
Ready for a fight/
Along came a black knight !
The little troll found himself a bit helpless among the resistance,
In the distance a land far to quaint in which to behold,
Try to filter out the sorrowful resistance/
A castle promptly built for the proud and noble !
What was once thrown down into the rubble,
Yet still my heart beats a bit frantic now ?
Torn in the midst of breathless moments/
We suddenly captured a sweet glimpse of heaven,
But then to suddenly leave again !
With fallen trees of fern and elm,
Then suddenly the sword pulled out of the lasting storm !
With gentle onlooker's to approach,
A vining warrior with hidden spear inside,
Traveler's visiting from the East would often run away and hide ?
Yet what had hit me from my blind side ?
Was it the heavy notion of a wizard living inside ?
A darkened portal that had come to light !
With a famed court prince on some winged plight/
Along comes a big dragon with a focused intent,
Outside a winged servant was inclined to viscously launch out into the night/
To enlarge his welcoming with some frantic fright !
Amidst the hidden turmoil of the given plight/
With the great task in which to make all things right !
where bones are picked cleaned by talons crook's of raven-wives like steely ice-picks dripping of the Valkyries verb-thieves of morpheme drain the meaning through sunken wind-eyes of cloudy skulls in the sky the bearer of speech-figures forums of a Norman's-ransack shutting one's eye bare-shirts run away to rid hawk's ground of Kenna's-abode
yore's measure-tree nigher are's not having scrapes-inn but all are vital framers-anvil lost tropes of the metaphor this saga was shy not a peep from windows of the folk so now I must not cut but again write not to RE:WRITE so some can better see learning knew ways breaking yokes free verse at first but now a inquisitive rhyme Word meanings fly away through windows of time snatched by Harpy's torn from memory buried in the field of a long ago rhyme but digging deep you find teasures stolen by Valkyries like a grotesque pic surely strown by death's scythe arm loads of gold stored ready weapons for another warrior which in another time may be erased but not today hold the sword's wife writing again holding high and protecting the courier of the quarrier by word of scop not to stop but increase your scope