Wise and wistful Njal perched pleasantly in the heart of Iceland Vengeance victory and voluptuous vial veined through Flosi Njal as innocent as an infant His demeanor held neither mediocrity nor morals but rather an emotion enthralled ego Cooled cinders clog Flosi's heart to a stone To unfurl the expression in an utmost barbaric action He recollects ways to reclaim rotten ridden revenge pondering upon which way will win In one breath of fiery hell Flosi embarked his plan a sheepish grin gambled graciously on his hard face The house engulfed in silk flames of scarlet the blood curdling cries of children never ceased Onyx hazes of smoke of smoke danced on the top of the roof taunting the flames to devour more Flosi's eyes excitedly enlightened in excitement his perilous plan appeared promising He laughed lively at the feat the hysterical hollers of children was suddnely muted Several silent minutes passed spirits of ashes resurrected from the charred house The air was stale sparse dull life clinged to hold its existence Bleached black bones held close to each other in a cluster combusted cloth clothed the cluster Two tiny tinged skeletons lay in heavy heaps almost as if they were holding hands But no longer did the embrace last no longer did the home host habitability This sadistic outcome shed no tears for Flosi he enjoyed the revolting wrath of revenge ever so He shadowed over the remains of bones and timber boastfully bubbling blissfully in excitement kicking the bones like dry dirt Flosi continued to walk around the ash ridden land His leather boots crisping in the hot coals his callused hands thrusting in the air expressing victory He beaconed a shrill of success tears trembling down his face Flosi has won revenge has ridden him once more
This was an assignment for a World Lit elective class in school. The poem is subjected towards the The Story of Burn Njal. This poem is in inspired Anglo Saxon format. Enjoy.