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Sunset Meadows Feb 2023
I am from water, from fire,
      from earth and air,
            the spirit to complete.
I am from the busy movement of city
      from the busstling to and fro.
I am from historic land,
      from where many jumped to find gold,
            to find a better life.
I am from the prison of Him,
      from where the truama begins,
            perfect from all around.
I am from nights of games,
      from spondgebob monoply
            from Life.
I am from the seeds of the earth,
      from where the magick starts.
I am from Odin, from Apollo,
      the strong Yggdrasil to protect.
I am from the occult of practice,
      from the forests and seas.
I am from long walks with Odin,
      from his warm embrace,
            from playing fetch.
I am from the theatre,
      from Carlos, from tech.
I am from here.
Yaoyan Oct 2020
On the branches of the great Ash tree,
He hangs upside down
Over the pond of reflection.

“I sacrifice my eye to me,
Allow me to see those that I can change
And those that I cannot;
The deepest corners of the heart
And the universe it flows in-
Grant me Wisdom beyond Sight.”

And he hangs for 9 days and 9 nights-
Not dead for death has not been born.
(There is no death without time and no time when the world is stagnant)

Waters swirl up and engulf him / he slowly dips his head in.

The sacrifice has been received.
A God is born (not created, not made)

The branches of Yggdrasil sing.
Movement, vibrations,
The stars and the moon start to spin,
Welcoming inspiration.
Liz Rossi Mar 2020
black eye no eye three eyes,
do you hear the ravens?
you measure yourself in summers;
lie down and let the snows fall,
cut-glass pines and grey sky
and the path scarring up
into the clouds.

these are the winters we wait for,
these are the winters that claim us.
close your eyes and fill your lungs
with snow and ice
and snow and ice.
When in the spring I began to walk, I encountered you, O Dellingr;
You, who was quiet, and tranquil, and who lifted the sun just above
          the lake
That sparkled with your light’s reflection. O Dellingr! I met you in
          the spring
And parted with you in the winter cold, and oh how I’ve missed
          you…!
I have longed to meet you again at the lakeside where I sat
And was soothed by the birdsong
And looked upon the shining waters
And became enraptured by the love I felt in my own heart
Before you gave Dagr his reins and sent him to his mother.
O gentle god, O light reborn, O third lover and day-maker,
Will you sit with me again?
Here at the lakeside,
Will you fill my lungs with “I love you”s
And caress my cheek with your most calming breeze?
O dayspring, O Dellingr, please enchant me here,
And over and over,
And when I fall from the sight of this world, let me fall upon a
          lakeside knoll
And sit with you again.
This poem is written to praise the Norse/Germanic god known as Dellingr.
I have built with broken bones,
I have bent what simply breaks.
Skin to center, I have forged myself from steel.
And steel may melt and coil and collapse,
But I have befriended the dawn, the day, the dusk;
The flames of Sól are the feathers of my wings
And my courage frightens fear,
And my words give form to force,
And now the phantasms of every wish I have kept are given flesh.
Witness my rise, and if I seem to fall, watch me closer; my flight is far
          from finished.
This poem is written in "Galdralag" (lit. "the meter of magic spells), which harkens back to the cultural magic of the Ancient Germanic and Norse peoples. This is part of my poetry series called "Galdrbook."
My form obeys my wants,
My mind obeys my will.
Hear me now and listen, my steeling soul.
I see my destination;
A path, I design.
For this task, my own strength will suffice.
Within my chest, my lungs strain and struggle,
But they breathe the air in the highest, thinnest skies—they struggle,
          and I grow stronger.
This poem is written in "Galdralag" (lit. "the meter of magic spells), which harkens back to the cultural magic of the Ancient Germanic and Norse peoples. This is part of my poetry series called "Galdrbook."
Windborne boat, you now will sink
When you hear my baneful song
Calling storm and squall.
Rains will pour and flood your decks,
Your passengers the sea will drive
Betwixt its teeming teeth.
Bones the sea will take into
Its watery sands, and there it shall make tombs that time forgets.
This poem is written in "Galdralag" (lit. "the meter of magic spells), which harkens back to the cultural magic of the Ancient Germanic and Norse peoples. This is an example poem in my work in progress text on Germanic word magic in general, but here, it will be part of the series called "Galdrbook."

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