mythology

Thor’s Journey to Utgard, Part 4

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I now conclude the tale of Thor’s Journey to Utgard with the final seventeen stanzas, in which all is revealed about the strange happenings in the hall of Utgardaloki. Converting this to what I call “standard lines,” it was 264 lines long. My two longest poems are 729 and 983 lines, and, shorter than this, I think my Brisingamen poem came in at 96 lines. Next month will bring a new poem of some kind. Enjoy!

The crone then came,
cracking her knuckles,
ready for the match.
The wrestling began;
Ennilang strained hard,
yet Elli stood firm,
no matter the force
his might brought forth.

Then tricks she tried
and the True One slipped;
in pulling and pushing
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Thor’s Journey to Utgard, Part 3

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From last month, I continue the tale of Thor’s Journey to Utgard with another sixteen stanzas, and the poem is now three-quarters finished. Next month will bring the final 17 stanzas, in which you’ll see how Thor fares against Elli, and what’s been going on the whole time with these strange contests. Enjoy!

Out to the course,
Utgardaloki
and the troop then went
to test this feat.
A lad named Hugi
lined up for the race,
lean and lanky
was this little man.

The race started,
the running was fierce,
but ahead way far
did Hugi finish.
Time he still had
for turning around
to face Thjálfi
at the finish line.

The king urged Thjálfi
to increase his effort
on a second race,
though not seen at all
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Thor’s Journey to Utgard, Part 2

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From last month, I continue the tale of Thor’s Journey to Utgard with another sixteen stanzas, and the poem is halfway finished here with 33 stanzas so far. Next month will bring part 3, in which Thor finally takes part in the games in the hall. Enjoy!

The companions agreed
and pooled their food.
Long was that day,
with lengthy strides
by Skrýmir on the way;
they scored a night-stead
under an oak tree,
and got on to supper.

The etin slept
but the others tried
to open his knapsack
to eat their dinner.
But tricky it was:
untying the knots
proved impossible,
no piece would loosen.

Then rage-filled Thor
raised his hammer,
and smashed the head
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Thor’s Journey to Utgard, Part 1

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Wassail! For the first time in a long time, I have written a mythological story poem in stanzas of fornyrðislag. As the title indicates, it’s the one where Thor visits a mysterious king named Utgardaloki and attempts some challenges within his hall. It’s the longest mythological story in Snorri’s Edda, by far, which is why I had not rushed to turn it into a poem before! My whole poem is 66 stanzas, and I’ll run it over four months, either 16 or 17 stanzas at a time. Enjoy!

Thor is mightiest
as Thunderer of the Æsir,
yet the wicked work
he once had faced
of a cunning etin’s
crafty magic.
Give now a hearing
to my noble tale.

Once at one time,
the well-bearded Thor
went driving in his chariot,
drawn by two goats,
along with Loki
on his long journey.
They arrived at evening
at a rustic farm.

Its yeoman offered
the use of his lodgings,
and Sönnung then made
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Fire, Ashes, and Rebirth

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For starting this new year, 2024, I have a poem, which I finished early last March. It’s about endings and beginnings, about the end of my 2022 & start of 2023. That New Year’s Eve surely ranks as the very worst of my life, as I got some nasty 2nd degree burns, which took a while to recover from. Close friends and people I’ve seen in person were aware of the burns, but if you’re not one of those, this is probably the first time you’re hearing about it. No need for sympathies at this point, I’m all recovered. (Well, the scars will remain, and I’ll never have hair growing on some of those spots, but hey, whatever, such is life.)  And by now, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that I would make esoteric and spiritual mediations on the incident and turn them into a poem.

The poem might make it sound like it went worse than it did. Or better than it did. For instance, I don’t really say much about pain in this draft of it. But there was pain. Not so much from the burns, or even the skin graft surgery, but from when my leg and foot were swollen. Anyways, pain from the burns ceased to be an issue back in February 2023.

I’m happy to say that 2024 has started much, much better. I mean, well, obviously, it would be difficult to do worse than the worst New Year’s Eve of my life. Though this New Year’s Eve was a very quiet and relaxed one (and would probably look boring to an observer), it was what I needed. And the first weeks of the new year have gone exceedingly well.

Like last month’s poem “What is Absinthe?” this one will also go in my forthcoming poetry collection. Here’s the poem, enjoy!

Fire, Ashes, and Rebirth

The phoenix is famous for its fiery death,
for when burnt to ashes, it is reborn anew.
’Tis a great talent, and good to have,
but imagine how painful that method must be.
A mite more than others, such misery I know
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The Flow of Nine Worlds

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This month’s poem is a look at the world tree and its worlds, from metaphysical perspective as to what the worlds are, and what they might mean for us as human beings today.

The Flow of Nine Worlds

All was Yggdrasil to the ancient Norse,
a fathomless Tree that framed the worlds,
nine in number, into a united whole.
Ginnungagap, a great emptiness,
was there in the beginning and there alone.
Still it’d have stayed, but there started a flow,
the first of flows, which formed the worlds.
Ice upwelling from the outer North
met fire flaming from the farthest South,
and a hailstone was made in the heart of it all,
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