Tag Archives: The mead of poetry

Vanaheim: ‘ Magic & Wonder’ 4/4′ The Nine Realms- Poems and Writing

22 Jan

World Tree Norse

The Nine Realms

9 months, 22 poets and writers, 22 Artists, 3 composers, 1 Viking boat: a magical reworking of Norse Mythology for contemporary audiences

 

Poems and Writing inspired by the Norse realm of Vanaheim

Featuring:

Ross Beattie, Lydia Allison and Karin Heyer

 

Vanaheim

by Ross Beattie

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I’m just like her, I need the wolves, the life of the mountain crawling through my veins. 
But he’ll never stay beside her this far from his precious sea.
Why can he only love at the waters edge? 
Can he not see the passion flowing through her in the hills ? She could love him like no other if he can only bring himself to touch her skin beneath the fire red moon among the wildness of the forest. 
She knows she’ll sink below the tide if she stays there beside him, so she must return alone to the trees, far from his precious Vanaheim.  
Back to her land of thunder. 

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MP3 TO COME

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Thrymheim

 by Lydia Allison

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In the mornings the rocks glisten
like the sick, the dying
soaked in the night. I rise early
run my hand along the moisture of giant walls –
swelled drops catching yellow light

I raise it to my mouth
taste the nothing taste
pure water
I expect salt,
the minerals of my world

but remind myself
this is not the way things are
here, the hard forms move slowly
over years. Mostly unreachable
almost untouchable.

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Thrymheim was the abode of Þjazi, a jötunn, located in Jötunheimr.

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Poem read by Nicky Mortlock

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Nóatún

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I don’t like the madness,
the movement makes me sick, my sweat,
nothing, salt in the air, my skin stings.
The taste – tears – dries my mouth to sand. He says it becomes me,
this light. I know. I feel it.

 

Nóatún is the home of the Njord

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Poem read by Nicky Mortlock

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Freedom of Speech

by Karin Heyer

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Just beyond the sound is

talk, talk, talk,

babble, humming,

buzzing like a persistent bee.

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The gods in Asgard

debate, they argue.

The gods in Vanaheim respond,

they buzz and hum.

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Let the precious mead of poetry flow,

ponder the sense of cruel fight,

which is nought

in most cases

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but not all…

continue the winged buzz

shun raging Ragnarök.

only a rainbow

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can connect

restore

the word

the talk and babble.

 

MP3 TO COME

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You can read the overview of Vanaheim here , and see some Asgard poems here

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Find out more about Ross, Lydia and Karin here

Ross Beattie

blackpoemblues.weebly.com

https://twitter.com/blackpoemblues

Lydia Allison

 lydiaallison.wordpress.com

https://twitter.com/LydiaAllison13

Karin Heyer

Contact ArtiPeeps. 

 

As always, thank you for your interest.

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Vanaheim: ‘ Magic & Wonder’ 1/4′ The Nine Realms- Poems and Writing

18 Dec

World Tree Norse

The Nine Realms

9 months, 22 poets and writers, 22 Artists, 3 composers, 1 Viking boat: a magical reworking of Norse Mythology for contemporary audiences

 

Poems and Writing inspired by the Norse realm of Asgard

Featuring:

Jim C. Mackintosh, Rebecca Audra Smith,

Kate Garrett and Nat Hall

 

Vanaheim

by Jim C. Mackintosh

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Somewhere in the folds of dreams, Vanaheim
Floats on ribbons of imagination; in time
To swallow heavens with magical disregard
For vain complexities born of human chaos
Banishing greed and fury to the grub of Utangard
 
No need for pale weakness in shabby human form. 
Though widening hollows struck its walls, a storm
Sparked by Odin’s scheme, of vengeful desire 
To suck wisdom’s juice from blackened earth
The mulch of trampled souls lost in bloody mire.
 
Breathless rivers pooled, their exhausted course
Amongst the crumble of once proud walls; a source
Of peace, a reluctant path worn across the middle plains
By sated Gods; a deal planted in shifting, bartered sands
But memories itch, to blister up amidst fractured stains.

The salted lick of revenge on Vanir wounds never far
In embroidered days of counselled grace, the precious star
Of Mimir’s wisdom doomed to fade in a severed blast,
Tossed in the saddle bag of bitter scorn at Odin’s feet
But in his weeping embrace, nurtured – spells yet to be cast

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Kvasir’s blood

by Rebecca Audra Smith

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Mix your battle-sweat
with your speech-tool.
Let your air-catchers breath.
Blend a bee’s love-making juice
with many worn out shoes.

Dip your glass to the vat, poets.

 

MP3 to come

Kvasir

Mead of Poetry

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The throats of giants

by Rebecca Audra Smith

 

FRIGG FRIGG
FUSS FEREA FEEL
FREYJA FARE

Build a world with paper and pen
Eat among the grey halls
Hail the giants who stalk our minds

FAIR FREYJA FIND FIT
FAIN FIRSTLY FRIGG

I’ll take no food unless it is with you
In the grey halls and the darkness of a giant’s shadow we kiss
And fling the matches of our passion into the dark to momentarily flare
And fail your hair catches alight within the circles my hands make
I will take no sustenance no draft my throat will not be wet
Unless your lips have taken mine and kissed them into shining

COUNSEL ME

I long for counsel the giant wise
The giant vice our wisdom only comes
Twice a year when we sit and sup with Freyja
Drinking down the dwarves concoction
She told me I was so small

FATE FOLK FRIGG FRIGG FRIGG
FIND FOUND FLAIL

I will take no sustenance no draft my throat will not be wet
In the grey halls and the darkness of a giant’s shadow we kiss
I’ll take no food unless it is with you
And fail your hair catches alight within the circles my hands make
Unless your lips have taken mine and kissed them into shining
Fling the matches of our passion into the dark to momentarily flare

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Frigg

Freyja

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Inspiration

by Kate Garrett

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sweet at the source with
star-dusted honey –
magic through the mouth
made of wise blood.
 
pray, let me pour
poems between my
fingers; you forget
flight, hit the earth.

 

MP3 to come

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Njord and Skadi

by Nat Hall

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Still dream of Vernal Equinox

He who sees through
seer’s jet black 
eyes will
ascend as 
high as skylarks to
watch lush land beyond 
twilight;
pines’
many branches,
mysteries,
where
grey owls
whose yellow 
eyes flick without 
sound,
where spirits 
shine to show your
way.
Here,
where north 
sky heaves & fills with birds,
in between worlds
jeer messengers
feasting on
both sides of
old ice,
each morning 
brings new carrion…
Far* – he-father,
tamer of
salt, wind & world waves, in
Noatun**,
home of clinker***,
tar & rivets –
where 
ships gather
and black backs**** act as
alarm clocks;
Mor***** – she-mother,
the great huntress,
who favours
snowflakes on high ground,
sap’s scent from fir trees in her hair,
she came to
him from her mountains 
to bear new fruits for the Vanir.

© Nat Hall 2014

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Notes:

* Far – Norwegian for “father”
** Noatun – Njord’s dwelling place, that translates as “enclosure of ships”
*** clinker – Norse boat building technique, consisting of external planks overlapping & secured with clinched nails/rivets. 
**** Black backs – referring to a species of gulls, commonly known as Great Black-backed Gulls.
***** Mor – Norwegian for “mother”

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You can read the overview of Vanaheim here , and see some Asgard poems here

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Find out more about Jim, Rebecca, Kate and Nat:

Jim C. Mackintosh

bigbaffy.com

https://twitter.com/JimCMackintosh

Rebecca Audra Smith

beccaaudra.wordpress.com

https://twitter.com/BeccaAudra

Kate Garrett

http://www.kategarrettwrites.co.uk/

https://twitter.com/kate_garrett

Nat Hall

 nordicblackbird.weebly.com/index.html

https://twitter.com/nordicblackbird

 

As always, thank you for your interest.

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