Long Rend Poems
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With the end of days upon them
Nears the time of final battle
In the halls of high Valhalla
Asgard senses its death rattle
In the forest crows the rooster
In the sky the sun does darken
In the cave the hound is howling
To these signs the Aesir harken
Heimdall blows the Gjallarhorn
Dark the rainbow bridge is turning
Vivid lightning cleaves Yggdrasil
Then the central tree is burning
Aesir watch in fascination
See volcanoes spew like fountains
See the heavens splitting open
See the oceans climb the mountains
See the continents convulsing
See the forests burn to ashes
See the sons of Mim awaken
In the fatal lightning flashes
As the winds consume the wasteland
From the south Surtr advances
With his minions tearing corpses
Bright his sword and sharp his lances
Aesir then prepare their weapons
Eyes are clear and arms are steady
The Midgard serpent Jörmungandr
Upon the battle plain is ready
With his heavy hammer Mjolnir
Strides the mighty god of thunder
To do battle with the serpent
And to rend the world asunder
June 30, 2014
N.B. This poem is an Epyllion, a brief narrative poem with a romantic or mythological theme. It is written in trochaic tetrameter, like some of the ancient Eddas.
Glossary:
Ragnarök - Final battle and death of the Aesir
Aesir - The Norse gods
Asgard - one of the Nine Worlds and home of the Aesir
Valhalla - a majestic, enormous hall located in Asgard, ruled over by the chief Norse god Odin
Heimdall - A Norse god who blows his horn to signal the beginning of Ragnarök
Gjallarhorn - Heimdall's horn
Midgard- Middle Earth, or the world of humans
Bifröst - the burning rainbow bridge between Midgard and Asgard
Yggdrasil - The sacred Norse central tree that holds the Nine Worlds
Mim - an Asian renowned for his knowledge and wisdom who has been beheaded. Odin carries around Mím's preserved head and it recites secret knowledge and counsel to him.
Surtr- a fire troll with a flaming sword who sets the world on fire.
Jörmungandr- The world serpent or ouroboros that surrounds the earth and grasps his own tail. When he lets go, the world will end. Jörmungandr's arch-enemy is the god Thor.
Thor - The Norse god of thunder
Mjolnir - Thor's hammer and principal weapon
Chapter..........1..........Part..........2..........3b.
The mounted riders,
they speed forwards,
Turvehr did kick with heaven's power,
his mighty horn tearing and rending,
His eyes,
afire with hates desire,
his coat,
it did shine like the raven's wing,
when kissed by Sol.
He was the destroyer of the evil fire,
to rend,
this was his work this day,
his heart a living flame,
pure hatred was his song,
to kick, toss and tear,
this would be his killing way.
Turvehr was a terror,
a light destroying the dark,
his horn now caked in bloody gore,
hatred ruled the battlefield this day,
great indeed was his majesty,
the glory of a darkened dawn.
Women watching,
cried out with fear,
when e'er an enemy came to near,
for love indeed, this day was born,
for Turvehr,
the king of the Unicorn.
Alahsar still had her gates,
mortal men,
their lives, they did lay down,
numbers falling,
Demons they did crawl,
The end of humanity? Dark hearts filled with hate.
From the gates a mighty moving,
womanhood coming forth with great haste,
Hate-filled eyes and voices of venom,
yelling out thunder as they come forth.
Now, into two groups,
these shield maidens do split,
one group heads for the Dunlaven bridge,
the other group, the fight on Badicha,
still, the foe seemed many more.
the Arlaghs ever to the fore,
a mighty foe begins to push,
the might of dark within each beast,
to hold this foe,
it would take mighty strength,
yet, strength was failing,
the Arlaghs, then, did mighty push.
Then to human dismay,
upon the left flank,
spiders, wolfs and their riders attack,
from the trees they come,
Arlaghs, they also come with this attack,
the cavalry on the left flank,
they are taken by complete surprise,
horses scream in fear as they begin to fall.
riders also crying out, as they die this day,
some shall lie on the bloody plain,
others within the bellies of flesh-eating enemies,
on seeing this, the women warriors hurry forth,
no order had the golden king given,
they had come,
against all orders.
Still, humans stand,
much blood does flow,
man and woman,
power did show,
children watching from on high,
as parents and friends slowly die,
Dark man fighting, vengeance dead,
the Tigress, she is spreading fear,
a bloody day for one and all,
"Blood For Blood," the mortal call.
To Be Continued.
A hiding place, a warm and darkened room,
A lit doorway, bright against the dark,
Cold against the warmth, a frame for odd
Assorted stranger-forms whose faces loom
As quarrels over (what?) convulse and rend them,
Leering laughter giving in to vicious
Sneers, bared fangs, silent snarls
Of wretched, clutching, atavistic mayhem,
A terror once removed. Inside that hole
Distant from the proximal horrid window
Where twisted evil shadow-puppets fight
Peculiar faint amusement seems to roll
Like waves around the cave, detached and born
Of safety via distance, of certainty
That out would never be in, that warmth was safe,
That war above, so far away, forlorn,
Could be watched as from a languid seat
Far recessed in a darkened empty theater,
Nestled snugly, listening to the voice
Which comments on the raging battle heat.
From somewhere up, behind, not left nor right,
But from the center, voice and fight both
Directly sensed, as if they each occurred
In a vacuum, touch and smell, sound and sight
Being interchangeable and void.
The fighters jab and poke, madly gouge,
And neither gains advantage, being justly
Matched, as both are faceless, the man
At left pitted fair against the shrewish
Plot of his opponent, evil woman.
Both in turn appeal for judgment, turning
Away from fighting to glare and wave and hiss
Silently for a verdict on the ghastly driven
Feud which now has stopped, as it began,
Abruptly, and receiving none, for in
The silence no answer can be given
(Besides which, being taken by surprise
And overcome by sudden fear, aware
Of change in circumstance) the watcher is mute,
The murderous woman lunges at his very eyes
In deadly assault, bent on maiming, killing,
Groping fiercely at his open throat
For no apparent reason; and the comfort
Of the soothing voice utterly halts.
Words without sound fly like spears between them
Accusatory fingers gesture madly
And spittle from their half-crazed livid mouths
Wings through air in visual acid anthem
To this grisly deadly tandem fight
That seems the worse being set in relief
By the rectangular hole that serves as both
Window and door, divider of dark and light,
No protection, as threshold battle threatens
Him within, as blind hatred rages
In deft slashes of lengthy fingernails
While foe from foe extracts macabre debt.
Heavy and eerie silence reigned therein,
The dark rooms looking as sullen as mean,
As if they had taken serious offence
Against me who had failed in their esteem,
My heart feeling contrite was heaving tense,
To have halfway deserted my fond dream.
No one was there my inner thoughts to share,
None who so some forgiveness to me spare,
Aimless I wandered into my blank mind,
And wished I could that royal guitar find
To inveigle my heavy heart to sing:
O Fire, this poor moth that in vain wished once
To fly away, hast returned broken wing
To thee, forgive him just this one instance,
Burn away both his wings and make him lame,
Nay, consume him in thy red scorching flame.
As I wailed clue-less, my soul sinking low,
Two warm teardrops fell from above on brow.
Dark and deep clouds hung overcast on hills
That day, the gloomy woods and bare river
Awaiting in suspense with monsoon drills,
An ominous calm prevailed all over.
And soon it all shivered— land along sky,
A wild tempest blew forth O howling by,
Through pathless woods glaring its lightning teeth,
Like a raving maniac snapping chain,
Wishing to unleash hell, terrible pain
To whoso there’s on hills, whoso beneath!
And not a soul around was in the camp
To wipe dark of my heart, nor light a lamp,
I could sense: a woman lying on face—
On a carpet below the bed, clasping
Her wounded heart, and pulling hair in stress,
Blood trickling down, in utter pain, laughing
Still, bursting into a hard wringing wail,
Now, rend her bodice, now beat breasts gone frail,
And from nowhere winds roared in from windows,
The pouring rains soaked further her sorrows.
Through night the storm never did cease to rage,
Nor did my fair lady's passionate cry,
I wandered from room to room, a blind man,
Unremitting sorrows my companion,
And yet none there who could have consoled me,
As I heard the cry: ‘stay back, all is false',
Maher Ali the mad was there, no doubt,
The old tenant of this odd wailing house,
‘Tell me what’s false?' I could not help but ask,
Waiving me off was how he responded,
Repeating, ‘stay back, stay back, all is false'.
_____________________________________________
Narrative |01.04.2024|
Note: A poetic translation of Rabindranath Tagore’s story in Bengali, Kshudhaarto Paashaana.
Friend, before life moves us to the parting ways
Let wisdom tell from rend of heart its lessons old
That you may take your journey springing praise
And mend with gladness dream and mirrored fold
One road invites the universe of man to dawn
The place we left in awe of sword and flash of fire
Stumbling from purpose and lapping dew for ire
Making the circle of return to the cradle of the fawn
It's two things the oracle challenges us to know
Where the road diverges into many different paths
What vision shapes the skill that need will show
To meet the tests that sever self from it thoughts
And lift the eagle to the pinnacle of brimming star
And say to soul you are worth more than you seem
In any dissection of the flesh or weighing of dream
The mantle is mask that pretends not who we are.
What if one branching path a wide lake must cross
What if another a snow-capped cliff must clamber o'er
And still the next has serpents slithering in the grass
And one stretch endless like miles of a sandy shore
Shall the swimmer charm the serpents, swim
The sands, and climb the mirror face of ice
Against a different purpose will his dream suffice
Or all mismatched paths not a meet a fate still grim?
O too many on the wrong path are embarked, too few
Their purpose know before the journey begins
The shipwreck on deserts straddle the sense as clue
Ignored ... self-blinded race, drowning in our sins
He who foreknew us predestined purpose too
Each tree is seeded after its kind, each man can
Achieve only what is set in the primordial plan
The broad way is littered with much too much to rue.
What use is choice unless some context tell the aim
For once and only once we choose the path to good
And joy, the river does not return, the sea is the same
Only at the rapids end. Not what I would, but what I should
Is all I need to know. It's not the prize but the race
We run is what we are destined for. Go now, friend
And wing the light and for mist of truth contend
The swift may run, but the wise the victory taste.
I have no friends left,
In this town,
Will you be my friend?
You, the little Prince
Living On the planet B 612?
Will you be my friend?
The robin
Gracefully singing
When I Walk?
I have no friend,
Will you be my friend?
You, the engineer
In your lighted office
Located In Duchess Anne Street?
I have no friend
In this town,
You, will you be my friend,
You, the creeping ivy
The higher you climb.
Will you be my friend?
You, the schoolboy
That carries in your binder,
Books of poetry
More learned than me?
I have no friend,
You, do you want my friendship,
You Jessica Pegula, you, Coco Goff,
You, Karolina Muchova, players
Who Win tennis tournaments
Playing All over the world?
I have no more friends,
In this town, you
Will you be my friend?
You, the rum baba,
Tasting more delicious than angel liquor?
Will you be my friend?
You, the humble cowboy,
Gary Cooper, who does justice,
When the train, yes the train,
Whistle it three times?
I have no friend,
In this town,
But elsewhere may be,
I’ve had so many; I’ve had so many, maybe
They’ll miss me tomorrow
What happened to my friends?
Je n’ai plus d’amis,
Dans cette ville,
Toi, veux-tu être mon ami ?
Toi, le petit Prince
Sur ta planète B 612 ?
Toi, veux-tu être mon ami ?
Le rouge-gorge
Qui chante gracieusement
Sur mon passage ?
Je n’ai pas d’ami,
Toi, veux-tu être mon ami ?
Toi, l’ingénieur
Dans ton bureau éclairé
De la rue Duchesse Anne ?
Je n’ai pas d’ami
Dans cette ville,
Toi, veux-tu être mon ami,
Toi, le lierre rampant
Plus haut tu grimperas.
Veux-tu être mon ami,
Toi, le collégien
Qui porte dans ton cartable,
Des livres de poésie
Plus savant que moi ?
Je n’ai pas d’ami,
Toi, veux-tu mon amitié,
Toi Jessica Pegula, toi, Coco Goff,
Toi, Karolina Muchova, joueuses
Qui Gagnez des tournois de tennis
Aux quatre coins du monde ?
Je n’ai plus d’ami,
Dans cette ville, toi,
Veux-tu être mon ami,
Toi, le baba au rhum,
Plus délicieux que la liqueur des anges ?
Veux-tu être mon ami,
Toi, l’humble cowboy,
Gary Cooper, qui rend justice,
Quand le train, oui le train,
Siffle trois fois ?
Je n’ai pas d’ami,
Dans cette ville,
Mais ailleurs peut être,
J’en ai eu tant, j’en ai tant, peut être
Que je leur manquerai demain.
Que sont mes amis devenus ?
Deep ocean of azure blue
Overhead seagulls circling flew
In constant motion, heaving sides
The old merchant ship upon it rides
Rust scorched it's barnacled coat
Salt encrusted railings forever afloat
On the horizon's sinking sun's amber glow
Beckons enticingly along the flow
New moon appearing from out of the west
Silvery waves splintering against foamy crest
Figures emerging from the hold below
Peering skywards at the star studded show
Then into action to each their appointed task
Some heaving ropes, others mounting the mast
All working together to achieve one aim
To secure the sails aloft the bounteous main
A rumble of thunder and a flash lightening sound
Mountainous waves gather pace all around
Working in unison the crew now complete
All tasks meritorious as a well drilled fleet
A shout from the Captain, as the thunder roars
Urgently gesticulating "secure the oars"
Rain clashing as in sword play
Freeze drench they stand
As they see the top sail rend
Now all secured they disappear down
Below decks they ruminate
All worrying, no sound
Then vocal in assumptions from mate to mate
Until the Captain shouts "Silence no need for this din,
I shall calculate our bearings, now where to begin?"
Spreading out his charts he clears cups for a space
Each man concentrating, deep intent on each face
"Look Captain", one points "there's the Cape of Good Hope
enough time to manoeuvre and with luck stay afloat"
The temperature plummets and the crew mill around
No warmth except mittens and blankets draped around
The storm is abating and two bells is called
As each man takes turn to pump until hauled
Buckets of water overboard they keep on
Clearing sea water over gunnels, until all is gone
Ship breaking water all in it's wake
No matter the weather only headway to make
Dolphins leaping and diving below
Thoughts turn to seamen of long ago
Royal Navy Standards, a jolly jack tar
Plotting each course by the Northern Star
Pirate vessels hoisting their skull and crossbones
Biting winds moaning and pelting hailstones
Sailing ships with elaborate sails
Above the wind, sailors hearty hales
Anchorage sought and a comfortable berth
Homeward port reached and feet on the earth.
* A bit of sci-fi what-if?, about a lone man on Ganymede, witnessing the destruction of Io by the natural forces of Jupiter *
~
I knelt amidst the mountain's rise
beneath the weeping opal skies
there to measure Io's swoon
the envy of each lesser moon
trembling like a gold doubloon
(heaven's tinged and gilded prize)
great Jupiter, the Lord of All
filled the sky with amber pall
one reddened eye to consecrate
the anguish of dear Io's fate
years too soon, but eons late
shaking with a haggard wrawl
Io, once resigned its doom
yet, an orb of ravished bloom
(spurned as Zeus' paramour)
shuddered to its carnal core
wept, to mark Europa's door
the threshold to its fiery tomb
I, stood lone on Ganymede
minding Io's breaching bleed
as fissures split its relic face
a mocking veil of Guipure lace
ceding ripe, its fall from grace
author of such caustic screed
Europa, in her jealous bend
paid scant mind to Io's rend
jaundiced of Callisto's bough
negligent, would disavow
keen to hide her withered brow
skirting Jove to thus attend
in their haste to swift, depart
sundered Io's weary heart
forces much too fierce to shun
imploring mercy, gaining none
confident her time was done
rattled death, then broke apart
as mine, the only sentient eyes
attesting Io's bright demise
not in want of tears to shed
spirit harrowed deep with dread
felt some tribute should be said
but managed only muted cries
it wrought such horrid irony
that Io's witness fell to me
a spurious and tragic fate
for I, at best, was second-rate
at physics AND as potentate
and seemed such grand calamity
and yet ...
blessed was I by honor, deep
that my eyes were there to weep
thus, I vowed in prayer to write
the awful beauty of that sight
Io's death throes, bursting bright!
Lord Zeus' lover ... laid to sleep.
(the promise that ... I hereby keep)
( photograph of Jupiter, Io and Ganymede by Marco Lorenzi, August 25, 2020 )
Once on the vast placid sea,
Was a bucket whisked 'long currents so free.
He was as a boat
And he ever did float,
Unknown to Care, Worry or Hurry.
But one day, there came a new wind,
'Long a new way the bucket was sent,
Oh, this path unfamiliar
And its tests to endure,
What will this expirement rend?
Not long had he set his new course
Came a wave of such prodigal force,
He was born on the crest
And he did fare the best,
Though filled up with some water, he had this recourse:
Since it's along water I fare,
Well then, I really can't care,
If water makes me sink
I will take my last drink...
To leave it to Choice, I dare.
He heard the dolphin's chit-chattering chide,
Felt the surging insurrection of successive tide,
Though he was alone,
There soon fell a stone
From the depths of the cirrus-strewn sky.
So lower in the water he sunk,
His next gulp of water was drunk,
The victim of Whim
filled two-thirds to the brim
With no way to get out of this funk.
Now, inside the bucket did dwell
Countless people, no number could tell
And so, they did choose
Everything to lose-
They toppled the bucket, he plummeted towards Hell.
"I sit on the ocean's sand floor
Bereft of my purpose forevermore;
I shan't again be
Upon the sea free-
The whole ocean this vessle wll store."
Until I set out on my ship
And found me a spot, for to take a dip.
Who woulda' thunk it,
But I found that old bucket
And took him along on my trip!
The bucket was filled up with woe,
"How is it that water's my foe?
Was I, then, not meant
On this quest to be sent?
An answer, I wish I could know."
Not long had he sat on the deck
That the water had gone 'bout the length of my neck,
He was surprised about
How fast he dried out
And found that his value was not at all wrecked.
"I was not meant for the sea,
It is too much water for me.
I know my purpose
And I shall not fuss
When I can but meet my duty."
When we arrived back in the port,
I found him a new job of sorts:
I hung him in a well
And his joy he couldn't tell
That his too-great ambition, he chose to abort.
The globe is of unfathomable size,
It will not be tamed, we must realize;
Let all of it stand
And keep close both your hands,
But lend them to others when nears their demise.
Form:
I am Saul, beset, besieged, afraid to face the war
Without the latent singing of my natal star
Exposed. Fiends and witches medium know alone
To bring up a spirit or read the scattered bone
But those dark, heinous hags are no more
With venom wrath I slaughtered and purged them
And still find no praise in the silence of my core
From him who first hated them ... no ah nor em.
I am Saul, speak to your king, is any left
To compose me, I now of old Samuel bereft
Can find no spark of God or light abroad
Endor is far, the trek is hard, trek is hard.
One witch is there, you are sure? One for me
To consult and consort and be forgiven
One to tell aught of promise or pallid tragedy
How stands my course between hell or heaven?
At dead of night, the deadly still becalms the world
And I am cloaked darkest rags and identity curled
Catlike within, laden with ritual wage I venture forth
To convent with awful hag, and make my fickle sport
And then a hollow voice was heard, a distant chilling
Echo, with edges icily dripping in the dark of my heart
The witch of Endor like a foggy figure, rising and nearing
The leaves and all things normal fled, or moved apart.
Then out of the cavernous depths of earth
I Saul saw, like entrails from a flimsy sow at birth
The form, the icy apparition that soon became
Exactly as the figure of he as Samuel named
Looming me with frightening spite to the end
The sword twisted, gut wrenched, headless time
Mark how the judgment my soul have rend
Mark me shivering in the alien, cold, callous clime.
What thing is this, what dreadful horror to my eyes
Seditious vampire, treason is the altar of reason's lies
Yet nothing shakes me cold unless the force is real
The apparition came and went and my fate was sealed.
And I Saul, king, who heard the dead groaned before
A thousand cruel ways upon a bloody floor, aghast
Beheld what had no explanation in temple or shore
Sin's perdition entangled me from a calamitous past.