Long Sinew Poems

Medieval Poems



Deor's Lament (Anglo Saxon poem, circa 10th century AD)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Weland knew the agony of exile.
That indomitable smith was wracked by grief.
He endured countless troubles:
sorrows were his only companions
in his frozen...

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I shall resolve to leave this
Place now...
And steadfastly search out,
Nestling between ridge and bluff
Amidst the folds of a foreign 
Land,
Several acres of unkempt ground
Fallow and rough;
Upon which stands...
Crumbled stone walls
With an exposed slate roof in
Some...

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Deor's Lament

(Old English/Anglo-Saxon poem circa the 10th century AD)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Weland endured the agony of exile:
an indomitable smith wracked by grief.
He suffered countless sorrows;
indeed, such sorrows were his bosom companions
in that frozen...

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8. Transformation

Yielding to those who have mastered the art
Of grasping one's place in existence's grand scheme
Life’s constant challenges never depart
But humble diligence will grow the dream

In passing from childhood to adulthood
Innocence to responsibility
Firm new role...

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Venerated paternal puissant prophet...

His buzzfeeding spirit jump started
and kindled eternally his uplifting karma,
thus I present genuine psalm
remembrance of things past hallelujah!

Lemme automatically shift figurative gears
and apprise thee dear reader,
when a series of irreversible unfortunate events
accelerated...

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I walked a long path today. Off in the woods nearby.

My dogs walked with me, and took side trails on the
sly.
 
A little trail becomes a deer trail, though the
eucalyptus and pine

The oxalis grows wild...

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In shot snap seconds, everything changed.
The horror was sudden -
a shatter-shower of bullets
bouncing off rock.
The picnic I'd laid so carefully
blew apart - black olives
tossed into the air like fat flies,
the watermelon's pink guts splattering.

Gun aimed...

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We’re not called upon to choose anything we live through;
Neither parent nor sibling nor school nor form of sinew;
Neither colour of hair or eye or skin,
Nor love or hate, nor loss or gain
Nor opportunities nor...

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From his mama's own mouth, this story came
Her travail to carry him, a long trail
Of tears, loneliness, suffering and shame
A hunger for which hope made no avail
And then the hemorrhaging, her vital blood
Like common mud,...

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III

Kept out
   kept out he was: muzzled and shut out
from mothering social approval
    and the usual conning courtesies

Kept shut
  Involuting in the hippo-lipped paranoïa
from the darling eyes of his...

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The Silent Killer

The silent stealthy cancer
Creeps and spreads inside
With no warning it's deadly rancour
When it strikes none can abide

Relentlessly eating through and through
As remorseless as a snake
Crushing muscle, bone and sinew
While asleep and while awake

No...

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tight thoughts toil,
as threads in head uncoil
ideas plaited, intent's tug
escort through dilate pupils.
umbrella lashes shady look
was all it took-
inception outspooked
at artful spirit's raid, 
inkling's snapline birth
twine in tensile mind, 
sprinkling notion's seeds.
Small things become divine.

...

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September has come and gone leaving a trail of damage behind it, the weather created havoc, the guns create sorrows and the knife took many innocent lives away. 

It was hard to stop the steal...

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Venerated puissant prophet kindled karma - hallelujah!

Higher power our prayer for vehicle addressed
courtesy deliverance kindred lady luck,
we (the missus and me) blessed,
whereby each our expanded bosom 
nearly burst forth

(think analogous stuffed to hilt treasure chest)
managing...

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Cap'n & the Wench  *part the third*

Says the Wench t'the Cap'n "Me thinks I'll have me a Gin!" 
So says the Cap'n t'the Wench " Go right ahead Me Dear~
Fer now I'll surely Win!"

With...

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Krakatoa Kritic #007

Let those comment who kill with soft words when they ‘get’ you!
Should we hold praise hostage, retreat when we can’t see
reciprocal giftings that laud what we write in return?
My take’s yours if you...

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We are living in the middle, you and I,
between butterfly beginnings - ethereal endings.
Despite Natural Law, I'm persuaded to pause;
if possible, dear, let chrysalis continue ...
Timothy Levi Hicks

Living in the Middle

Rules of life restrict us...

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Over saturation with 
welter weighted Yuletide
drenching world, web, wide
equal and/or greater
effort demands energy tide
to global warming,
lest apocalypse doth ride

high and mighty mandating,
inculcating, buoying... pride
toward planet Earth, the
apathetic, demonic, horrific,
plastic... malleable passive
can no longer run and...

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An’ so, the saviors’ called –never answered, my breath in the cold
An’ as the autumn leaves pile, amassed- to merely rust, brown an’ gold
An’ from betwixt the veil – screamed ghostly, from air, sea an’...

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In the Beginning was the Word

Just a sound really

A somber echo into the abyss
that kickstarted the whole universe

(was the noise beautiful? was it ugly?
who's to say for sure...

...it was the First)

But it did its job
It...

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Bone Lady. 

Pippa Gray

If you have come for romance, please leave.
Follow the fireflies and they will lead you 
back through the woods, to your manmade path.
There is no sweetness or solace here. 
I am a...

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One evening an old ailurophile strolled through a forest with her blackest of cats,
To brood on her once goldenrod hair and the callipygous bottom on which she once sat.

Her head hung low upon shrugged cathartic...

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Ride, ride, ride thou figure from the East
In thy curse hath many a mother wept
On thy brow the furrows of distant steppes
Yield unto a steely mask of doom
Destruction follows in thy path and yet
Methinks I...

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Racism,
and sexism
and violent capitalism
are as American
and as bad for you
and your kids
as pre-millennial rotten and burned-out apple pie-sellers

And ProMatriotic learning 
and living 
and health loving 
post-millennial WinWin co-operators
against LoseLose
racism
and sexism
and violent capitalism
as AntiAmerican
as burning-out 
and...

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Her mocking salutation in salute.
Sudsing down your brains drawingboard in a victoriously ill repute.
Nature's pendulum holds you in it's dungeoness pattern of holding, then you go down it's chute. 
Hell's guillotine greased, oiled,
sparkling it's grinning...

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