Warlord Equinox


This is a bit of self-therapy... current situation turned into poetry.



The tides they have turned / now winter is dying
The heralds of  Freyja / refresh all the land
With Lenting now fading / I may not sit idle
The winds call me out / old dreams come to life

The time of my birth / is past forty winters
Great wealth I have gained / though much is at stake
Fights I have fought / and battles well weathered
Riches I gained / and the esteem of men

A hall I have built / with strong walls and candles
That gleam through the night / while the hearth-fire burns
Where ale flows and mead / and the venison roasts
To feed folk and family / sword-thanes and kin

My name is well known / by kinsfolk and foe
Shield-walls I shattered / by valour and strength
Men I have led / to riches and glory
Our tales being told / at bonfires by Skalds

My frouwe gifts the hall / with music and laughter
Hope-bearers small strive / to make us both proud
Atheling son / and bright-haired fierce maiden
One day to lead / the tribe when I’m gone

Timbers are polished / by golden-haired slave-girl
Shields deck the walls / where wound-hoes hang crossed
Grapes from the south / gave their blood to fill horns with
Gold will be given / to singers of troth

Alone I have held / the land for my kindred
Wise rede and law / I gave to the carls
My counsel is sought / by those who are helpless
Grímnir’s wisdom / restores hope forlorn

And yet storm clouds gather / that spears cannot hinder
Greed is the folly / of princes and kings
The giver of rings / wants taxes and tithes
Aided by warriors / and men of the cloth

Many have gone / to lands far and islands
Rather than give chiefs / all they have won
Where Things once gave justice / now rule the clergy
Weak men behind desks / intent on coins

Touched by the hoar-frost / my beard that was raven
Still in my sword-arm / strength flows and might
Shall I remain / or take to the islands
Westwards lies freedom / homestead holds kin

Gone are the days / of high adventure
The Sea Kings have traded / their freedom for truce
The coasts now are guarded / by towers of greystone
Norsemen for gold / keep the riches of kings

Brothers in arms / now sit at the fire
Most of them content / to tell deeds long gone
Draining their bother / with ale now aplenty
Leaving the swordplay / to others more young

A burden they deem / the raising of children
Little they know / the worth of the kin
Nothing remains / if no son remembers
Sword-fame will dwindle / if never renewed

Gone is the spirit / of strife and rebellion
Wave-steeds now landlocked / withered and old
Yet some are still standing / that once fought beside me
Bold and unbroken / scarred by the steel

I may yet call on them / the feeders of ravens
Refurnish the ship / raise young men to row
And head to the south / for Arabian silver
Let winds fill the sail / the sea-serpent fly

Not will I suffer / the yoke of oppression
While feeding the eagles / my home I may hold
I have a mind / to boldly go northwards
From cunning old Sea-kings / wrench riches and gold

Again in the battle / comes glory and laughter
Valkyrjas above me / fighting and free
The doom of my life / is mine for the choosing
Weaklings may linger / the strong will survive

No, not for me / the death in the straw-bed
Wyrd may yet wield / my doom in strange ways
Until it is sealed / my courage shall aid me
Sword-song will keep me / young till I die

- Meredyth, March 25, 2009