The cracks within dried fruit of my mind-meadows dampened by teardrops. The seeds synthesizing patience for Poppies to emerge and sprout back into flaming rubies from the dirt, the dew, and the bits of ash.
Music maker, trombone player Master-to-be of all instruments For my passion an educator in the making Those notes that live within Their stave homes on the aged paper Are composed of the very things that run through these well-played veins They are the building blocks of my being That brought me to world-class stages
Music maker, trombone player
I am a future Great
This is for a project in my English class to help us better understand kennings, and their use in Beowulf. I thought my kenning poem was pretty good, and decided to post it on here since I haven't been very active on this site. Enjoy!
beard-red explorers pillaging-horror practitioners tribal-family groups insurgent-nomadic roots that trailed wave-rammers across never-ending spans, continuously-toilfully matters not the demands women and men side by each beastly-feasters no table safe stand up for yourself or be a weak-waif in the bloodshot soul-panes, fierce pagan-purveyors by rites despised-womanizers siege-setters monk-murderers a blood-spilling bee treasure trove crash n’carry Thor had his hammer every wave-rammer had an oar for every pair of life-stained hands, the stains were borrowed and the very life-drained out of others blood-smitten berserkers, heart-stoppers and yet discoverer’s children wandering wet-wilderness found a Stormy-Stop, a few actually, and one be Newfoundland may-haps they settled in peace.
Yup I am so proud of them, they made me who I am. Inspiration Poetic Edda, did I tell you when my beard grows it grows in red.