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May 2011
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.
Angela
Written by
Angela
771
 
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