Category Archives: poem

Again

I was thinking
of that day
again
when the sky
boiled black
and the dark elves came
athirst for blood
my friends falling, falling
my arms, blood-washed,
too weary to make
one more stroke
and you came
descending in light
a fire of vengeance

The skalds sing the song
of that day
again
they make it pretty
the young men
laugh and say,
“this dry stick
did these deeds?”
I pay them no heed
how can you listen
to children
who never had to see
the face of the world
crack open, and bleed.

Winter has come
the north wind is sharp,
again
I sit closer
to the fire,
someone else’s bearskin
about my shoulders
all I have now
is someone else’s
my food, my bed
my fire
only my memories
are truly mine

There will be no
Valhalla for me
a straw death is my doom.
Still…
for the sake of that
one hour, that one day
perhaps a grace
will be extended
I will see my friends
I will see you
kiss your lips
and walk with you,
hand-in-hand,
again

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A father’s confession

To Kate:

I cannot tell the sun

to stop for you,

nor the moon to

wait upon your convenience.

I cannot tell the sea

to stand back so you

can gather sea-shells and starfish.

I cannot command the stars to come down

to garland your neck with glory

and light your path in the darkness.

I cannot rebuke the wind

so that it gives you only

the kiss of soft breezes.

I cannot do even these

little things for you.

I can only tell you

I love you

always, always, always.

 

 

 

Sunday Photo Fiction – November 8th 2015– Autumn

My response to the Sunday Photo Fiction challenge for November 8th 2015– a flash fiction inspired by this image–

129-11-november-8th-2015

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Not quite yet
there’s yet some green
in the tips of the leaves
a little life still
But soon
soon enough
it will sleep
as will I
does it regret
the cloudy days
when it saw no sun?
The rain that fell
on other forests?
Regrets
are understandings
of what might have been
and were not
and cannot be
It will sleep
as will I
long, dark and cold
bare
unlovely
when the sun rides high again
it will flourish
but will I?
but will I?

An Encounter on 20th Avenue, July 21st, 2015

There are yet good things in the world
I know, because I met you
this morning, on 20th Avenue
The two of you, in fact
Stellula calliope, perhaps,
although my ignorance is great
You zoomed and drank from flowers,
perched in a tree and preened,
and then came and hovered
ten feet above my head
as if stopping to wonder
why I wept

Impressions while listening to Jóhann Jóhannsson’s “Fordlandia”

Solar winds
scour the sky
Frozen worlds
locked in mystery
The dreadful fall
of burning spaceships,
lost in heaven-spanning battles.
Silent monuments
of forgotten races,
tombs entrapping the secrets
of millenia.
The screaming passage
of the event horizon,
skimming darkness and chaos,
to fall, fall, fall
back to a morning
beside the sea
I watched you walk
barefoot, smiling,
in the sand,
and I feel the touch
of a lost-love’s hand

Sunday Photo Fiction: March 9th 2014 – The Enchanted Grove

Sunday Photo Fiction— 100 to 200 words inspired by a photo–

Copyright – Al Forbes
Copyright – Al Forbes

(Okay, this is getting out of hand– two poems in one month. It’s probably because I don’t have a day job…. 😉 ).

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The pond
a still ocean
the distant traffic noise
the music of the spheres

In this enchanted grove
dragonflies are X-wings
and tadpoles
are submarines

A trout breaks the surface
doubtless, it is
the awful and fearsome
Kraken, writhing in rage

The trees round about
the pool the forest primeval
not yet sullied
by the tread of man

The far shore
is a misty,
mysterious foreign land
barely to be seen

There dwells a lady
sad and proud
whose call for aid
echoes among the sun-lit leaves

To heed the call
a hero must brave
the sea, the Kraken
the enemy submarines

Perhaps
the lady will be patient
as the hero
is not yet ten

Sunday Photo Fiction- The devouring of the moon, as observed from Yggdrasil

Sunday Photo Fiction: February 23rd 2014

48-02-february-23rd-2014

The sun is gone
and the moon going
the sons of the Wolf
eat their fill.
Three winters have we endured
and now the giants,
swelled with rage,
arm for battle
in darkness and in flame.
The gods go forth,
shining, to their doom.
The Wolf breaks loose
the world shakes,
mountains fall, the sky
tears apart
the stars fail
that which was will be no more

But we two–
we small, forgotten two
life and life’s lover
hidden here
in the Tree–
we drink the morning dew
awaiting the passing away
of what was.
The fate of gods
is not our business.
we live, that is our task.
To endure the fire
and the water
until the eagle soars once more
above the falls,
above the mountain,
and all that was
is again.