Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
__ Alpha While thunder clapped for an encore, we put on iron boots and danced in puddles that reflected the obsidian of Raven's crick-craw chorus between the ripples. I splashed with rod in hand, and yelled, "You are the hammer and anvil, I am the lightning! I am the quickening!" II They came from the East. The ground shook, and cracks spread from the pounding of their hammer-steps. Wisakedjaks fled from roosts now pitched askew by fingers that brushed the tips of pines with every swing of lumbering limbs. Lofty mouths inhaled the clouds and blew out smoke rings on the wind. III I charged across the ground—a bolt—towards the nearest Cyclops. Like a sparking pinball, I zig-zagged up the giant's shins, past his thighs, and higher still, then struck him in the eye. And we became one—euphoria! Omega The Wisakedjaks repaired their nests, and have less space in the minds of those who found a scapegoat for mythologies preached in smoke-filled rooms where followers choke on the want to be saved. Words were curved into a staff that false Hermes uses to shepherd his flock: people who pocket gold coins for Charon, having surrendered the kingdom within—dead, though their bodies continue to pulse with life.
0
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 7:31 PM UTC
When We Were Gods
__ Alpha While thunder clapped for an encore, we put on iron boots and danced in puddles that reflected the obsidian of Raven's crick-craw chorus between the ripples. I splashed with rod in hand, and yelled, "You are the hammer and anvil, I am the lightning! I am the quickening!" II They came from the East. The ground shook, and cracks spread from the pounding of their hammer-steps. Wisakedjaks fled from roosts now pitched askew by fingers that brushed the tips of pines with every swing of lumbering limbs. Lofty mouths inhaled the clouds and blew out smoke rings on the wind. III I charged across the ground—a bolt—towards the nearest Cyclops. Like a sparking pinball, I zig-zagged up the giant's shins, past his thighs, and higher still, then struck him in the eye. And we became one—euphoria! Omega The Wisakedjaks repaired their nests, and have less space in the minds of those who found a scapegoat for mythologies preached in smoke-filled rooms where followers choke on the want to be saved. Words were curved into a staff that false Hermes uses to shepherd his flock: people who pocket gold coins for Charon, having surrendered the kingdom within—dead, though their bodies continue to pulse with life.
March 16, 2013 The version of "Omega" posted above was written on May 6, 2018 _____ This poem is more than 5 years old. It involves a mix of reinvented mythology from 4 different cultures (and time periods). Over the years, I've played around with the poem, especially with "Omega", including how it shifts between past and present tense. Some people are probably more familiar with the modernized, English classification of the bird species, Wisakedjak (there are many variations of its spelling according to tribe): Whiskey Jack. In some North American-based First Nations mythology, Wisakedjak is the Creator that caused a "Great Flood" to cleanse the Earth of a creation turned rotten. First Nations flood mythology existed about 12,000 years before flood mythology first sprang up in ancient Sumeria. I believe that religions incorporate a regurgitation of mythology. Also, I believe that the strongest historical accounts are a hybrid of fact and mythology, regardless of how much that might go against surface logic. When historical accounts are comprised of supposed cold, hard facts, who was it who wrote such historical accounts? Why? What were their sources, biases, subjective angles, and perspectives? In a lot of First Nations mythology, Raven, Coyote, Turtle, Wisakedjak, etc., are not separate creators, as they are shapeshifted forms of the same Creator. Also, in such belief systems, it's understood that the Creator, in all its different, shapeshifted forms, is simultaneously singular and plural. That, and the different forms of the Creator, have caused problems with the translation and understanding of First Nations mythology amongst some non First Nations people. This post was formatted in a way that won't cause unintended line breaks when viewed with a smaller-screened mobile device. +/-
chris-d-aechtner-1
Written by
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 7:31 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem