to sit still on
a windswept hill
call myself stone,
feast on her song from
under the mound
and slumber to
while away the ages
Tag: poetry
feast
casting runes — 28oct25
mannaz by way of season
the year soon will die
we gather in the pale
wrapped in battle's arms,
buried within and
wait for the sun
to cross back
over the horizonA poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.
Today’s rune is mannaz, a rune that translates to “man” in the sense of “humankind”. The rune is associated with family and the social order, and in trusting the intuitive process or seeing clearly — both from within and from without. Mannaz influences relationships of all kinds, including those of a romantic nature and encourages compassion, for oneself as well as for others.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
lady waiting
we follow the same
wading both blood
& blades for a glimpse
of the lady waiting
at the end of the glade
& to receive her nightkisshole
dusk pours out of me
i am that lost hour
a brittle bone heart
carved in passing as
they drift to the next
hole in the sky,
a stone before the lakecasting runes — 24oct25
fehu fox fire, raven coal
first flurries pale
i offer crimson now
to keep all relations, mine
both safe and haleA poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.
Today’s rune is fehu, which has a core meaning of “cattle” or a more generalized “livestock”, which was a representation of personal wealth or earned prosperity. Sometimes luck played a role. Wealth and prosperity was valued, but was looked down upon when material accumulation appeared to be excessive, greedy, miserly or turned to hoarding, especially when those around you were lacking.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
rings
Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash drained, i pour inside
to sit within my pain
—don't speak
everything runs over
and i cannot drink
another drop
instead, arthritic fingers chase
wet rings on the hardwilderness
come the sluagh nights soonly
come they baying at your door
sickle scythe under nightmoon
a'reaving long before the dawnat the wytching tree
this chronic river
flawing through
is a stoning earned
for the time cast
down drunk at
the wytching tree
there is no care
for these secrets
that might be shared
those left to die here
in the wee hours down
at the wytching tree
