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Viking Poetry “Ship Ahoy”
(To my ancestral Danish Viking bards)
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Long ago where cold north winds blow enormous mounts of snow
Frozen folks crouched low holding close to their hot stoves’ glow.
For foggy, frosty nights in bleak fields freezing gleaming white
Fighters fought frightful fights. Writers found fuel to write.
Decrying depraved desperation vs. deprived devastation,
Artistically allowing allocation of allegorical alliteration,
Complementing assonance with compelling consonance,
Crafting chords of clever elegance creating resonance.
Thus through their themes with a thin, thoughtful smile
alights the alarmingly alliterative, alluring Viking Style.
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Past their prime poets practised powerful rhymes,
Some souls sometimes sing in our sombre times.
Hark, the headman’s heady ball! In his high hall
Bards with glaring gall gracefully gave their all,
Depicting deadly, deceitful, despicable deviance
With dangerous, dark drama and daring romance.
The hardly happy, harrowing, harsh, hated condition
Of brotherhood’s bad betrayal bringing bitter division,
Precisely presented plus preserved past previous ages,
Prompts professors’ probing of poetic prophetic pages
Per poetry’s perfectly perceptive perspective’s perplexing play
Indisputably indubitably indoctrinating individuals into this day.
IIIIIIIIIII
While vanguard various vistas are vague and vast.
Mind, more than a millennium may have passed.
They left lavish, linguistic luxurious laws that last,
Calling forth, once more, long gone poets to the fore
Whose lore we sorely adore touching our inmost core.
Reckon it resourceful to restore raw rote of yore?
Sure, they secure a sensational sense of wonder
Praising their poetic powerful play of yonder,
Plus their persistent predilection to ponder:
“Is poetic prowess a precious, preordained gift
Daily driving dreams and dreamers to drift,
Defiantly defending our deepest desire to lift
The lamentably laborious levels of our lives
With a warm way to wisely woo would-be wives”?
The point for which each poet positively strives,
While freely fuelling poetry’s festively fiery flame,
Is to fastidiously aim to forever frame one’s fascinating name.
All follow the call of *The Hallowed Hall* for Valhalla’s ball of fame.
Erik Thorell
the Dragon Viking