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#beowulf
I am so sorry Mother. I am an ugly, horrid creature. I am monstrous. My face scares children. Thick slabs of ebony skin blind my vision. I have no nose. I cannot breathe. My lungs have never been satisfied by the crisp, Jipe air. I cannot speak. My lips are sealed from the day of my being. My head is smooth and bare like an infant. My crown is missing, stolen from me. It has been stripped from our people since the Windsor King arrived. I am a monster. I hate myself. My hunger consumes me. It is all encompassing. I cannot stop it. But I need to eat. I have put it off for too long. I have to eat. I am going to eat. Mother, I did it. You told me to suppress my urges. I am a horrible son. I am sorry. I could not resist. I loathed the taste. It was raw and impure. Its bitter taste seeped into my throat. I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t. They taunted me, the King's men. So I chased them. I chased them into their house. I found the unlucky one hiding under a bed. The quick patter of his heartbeat echoed in my mind, guiding me to his fate. His death was slow and numbing. His skin withered like oil, seeping into my essence. Every piece of him became a piece of me until his absence engulfed the room. The essence of him consumed me. It rejuvenated me. I was divine. I could see. Nothingness faded into light, then to color, and shapes. The heaviness in my chest faded away. I could breathe. I was weightless. My hair, once absent, grew to prickles on my scalp. I could finally part my lips. For the first time I could laugh. I could scream. So that’s what I did. I laughed and screamed and cried to the world. Overwhelmed by my senses, I did not notice the second man approach me. Sorry Mother. I did not notice the man take out his sword. Sorry Mother. And I did not notice the man slice my head off of my neck until it was too late. Sorry Mother. Once overcome with ecstasy, my body rests in the soil of our home. My head, stolen from you, is now a trophy perched above the king’s throne. I apologize, Mother.
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Nov 28, 2025
Nov 28, 2025 at 1:26 AM UTC
Kwa Mama Yangu (To My Mother)
I am so sorry Mother. I am an ugly, horrid creature. I am monstrous. My face scares children. Thick slabs of ebony skin blind my vision. I have no nose. I cannot breathe. My lungs have never been satisfied by the crisp, Jipe air. I cannot speak. My lips are sealed from the day of my being. My head is smooth and bare like an infant. My crown is missing, stolen from me. It has been stripped from our people since the Windsor King arrived. I am a monster. I hate myself. My hunger consumes me. It is all encompassing. I cannot stop it. But I need to eat. I have put it off for too long. I have to eat. I am going to eat. Mother, I did it. You told me to suppress my urges. I am a horrible son. I am sorry. I could not resist. I loathed the taste. It was raw and impure. Its bitter taste seeped into my throat. I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t. They taunted me, the King's men. So I chased them. I chased them into their house. I found the unlucky one hiding under a bed. The quick patter of his heartbeat echoed in my mind, guiding me to his fate. His death was slow and numbing. His skin withered like oil, seeping into my essence. Every piece of him became a piece of me until his absence engulfed the room. The essence of him consumed me. It rejuvenated me. I was divine. I could see. Nothingness faded into light, then to color, and shapes. The heaviness in my chest faded away. I could breathe. I was weightless. My hair, once absent, grew to prickles on my scalp. I could finally part my lips. For the first time I could laugh. I could scream. So that’s what I did. I laughed and screamed and cried to the world. Overwhelmed by my senses, I did not notice the second man approach me. Sorry Mother. I did not notice the man take out his sword. Sorry Mother. And I did not notice the man slice my head off of my neck until it was too late. Sorry Mother. Once overcome with ecstasy, my body rests in the soil of our home. My head, stolen from you, is now a trophy perched above the king’s throne. I apologize, Mother.
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62
Don’t you feel bad for Grendel, His mind is poisoned by the devil. He is just a lost boy in a harsh world against him. Voices in his head push him towards the brim. He hates the world that he roams alone, The Dragon’s charm; his flesh hard as stone. The Shaper's voice; his head is aching, Wealtheow’s beauty; his heart is breaking. Grendel's mother’s embrace—a silent plea, In her shadowed depths, he struggles to be free. From Beowulf’s strength, he cannot hide, The warrior's might marks Grendel’s tide. Grendel's anger seals his fate, Fatal madness will not abate. His demise is in the mead hall, “Poor Grendel’s had an accident. . . . So may you all.”
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Oct 15, 2024
Oct 15, 2024 at 11:58 PM UTC
Grendel a poor soul
Lawrence Hall, HSG [email protected]                                 Beowulf Visits the Dentist Arise from the nitrous oxide From the somnolence, dreams, and pain With forge-hammered teeth And then go out Go out and bite something
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Jul 13, 2024
Jul 13, 2024 at 9:37 AM UTC
Beowulf Visits the Dentist
Lawrence Hall, HSG [email protected] Draining the Blood of Humans at Twilight A powerful monster // living down in the darkness growled // in pain… -Beowulf, Burton Raffel translation In the sinister dusk // they seek our blood A ghastly enemy // of disgusting thirst Stealing up from the swamp // and primordial mud – Well, we stole their habitat // – mosquitoes were here first!
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May 20, 2024
May 20, 2024 at 10:56 AM UTC
Draining the Blood of Humans at Twilight
Lawrence Hall [email protected]   https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/ poeticdrivel.blogspot.com                    Beowulf and the Danish Passport Officer                      From a recently discovered manuscript The clapped-out Boeing         wheezed to the gate The ground crew jumped                 name-tags rattling And swiftly moored the shining ocean-bird Behind his plastic shield a Danish official watched The travelers approach their passports raised He stood peeking down at the naughty selfie His girlfriend sent to his bold smart-phone Shaking his rubber stamp he spoke: “What is the purpose of your visit? Business, or pleasure? Hwaet! I’ve stood At this same gate longer than you know Keeping our gift shops free from British footer hooligans No commoner carries such fine matching luggage Unless his Rolex and his boyish good looks Are lies You! Tell me your name And your home address and your email! The quicker the better I’m off-duty in ten minutes.” Beowulf answered him Unlocking his smart-phone: “We are the Geats the mighty, mighty Geats! Men who follow Malmo FF Malmo FF the great! And we have come seeking Parken Stadium Greatest of all stadia Its shining seats polished By cheering generations of fat-full footer fans We have come to cheer Malmo FF While they whup up on Dansk Boldspil Union Instruct us, watchman Where is the stadium But first, where is the beer?” The worthy officer Answered him boldly: “A true fan knows The difference between fighting on the field And puking in the stands and keeps that knowledge clear In his beery brain I believe your babbling Go forward, credit cards and all on into Denmark Spend your money! Our exchange rate is generous! And then go home bearing our love while we bear your money.” (Stamp, stamp, stamp) “Tram stop to the left Taxis to the right” (Scholars everywhere will regret that here the burnt and torn manuscript breaks off.)
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Oct 4, 2021
Oct 4, 2021 at 9:10 AM UTC
Beowulf and the Danish Passport Officer
Lawrence Hall [email protected]   https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/ poeticdrivel.blogspot.com                    Beowulf and the Danish Passport Officer                      From a recently discovered manuscript The clapped-out Boeing         wheezed to the gate The ground crew jumped                 name-tags rattling And swiftly moored the shining ocean-bird Behind his plastic shield a Danish official watched The travelers approach their passports raised He stood peeking down at the naughty selfie His girlfriend sent to his bold smart-phone Shaking his rubber stamp he spoke: “What is the purpose of your visit? Business, or pleasure? Hwaet! I’ve stood At this same gate longer than you know Keeping our gift shops free from British footer hooligans No commoner carries such fine matching luggage Unless his Rolex and his boyish good looks Are lies You! Tell me your name And your home address and your email! The quicker the better I’m off-duty in ten minutes.” Beowulf answered him Unlocking his smart-phone: “We are the Geats the mighty, mighty Geats! Men who follow Malmo FF Malmo FF the great! And we have come seeking Parken Stadium Greatest of all stadia Its shining seats polished By cheering generations of fat-full footer fans We have come to cheer Malmo FF While they whup up on Dansk Boldspil Union Instruct us, watchman Where is the stadium But first, where is the beer?” The worthy officer Answered him boldly: “A true fan knows The difference between fighting on the field And puking in the stands and keeps that knowledge clear In his beery brain I believe your babbling Go forward, credit cards and all on into Denmark Spend your money! Our exchange rate is generous! And then go home bearing our love while we bear your money.” (Stamp, stamp, stamp) “Tram stop to the left Taxis to the right” (Scholars everywhere will regret that here the burnt and torn manuscript breaks off.)
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45
Lawrence Hall [email protected] https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/ poeticdrivel.blogspot.com                             On the Unlocking of Words            Their leader answered him, Beowulf unlocking            Words from deep in his breast:  "We are Geats…”                     -Beowulf to the Danish Coast Watcher In bold and sturdy four-beat lines Beowulf keeps his knowledge clear With kennings well-crafted and careful caesurae And never needing to raise his voice But thus the Grendel-voice responds: “Woo woo that’s just my person opinion that’s what I’m talking about follow your passion learn to code no offense, but *** oh my God oh my God woo woo hey hey ** ** something-something has got to go woo woo only dead fish go with the flow tear it down shut it down burn it down woo woo lock her up there is no I in team woo woo not my president it’s not rocket science it is what it is woo woo say it loud say it clear this is what something looks like woo woo is there an app for that woo woo that’s what I’m saying woo woo…” But you - be brave like Beowulf, and boldly dare To unlock your words with creativity and care
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Jun 13, 2021
Jun 13, 2021 at 8:15 AM UTC
Beowulf on the Unlocking of Words
Beowulf the hier of nothing of rot Mother  he know not Raised in shame banished wroght Returned to his village to seek wrothgar a father he yet sought News of death the sorrow he fought Till the night trouble it brought Grendal at night did strike Killing thous from wicked and strife None but Beowulf saw the **** of the fight Guards did come, and saw a false sight Beowulf they thought the killer that night Sentenced to death but never to suffer that blight Beowulf escaped and rode at dawn, Off to seek golem and where he lurk Off to the woods there they found Grendal With much haste golem charged Beowulf dirk was drawn Hacking off the fingers of golem was hurt Grendal roared and ran Holding tightly to his wounded hand Beowulf returned with trophy in bag gasps where made across the land Guards double watch patrolling village to make a stand Night came and blood was shed Grendal made way to the mead hall all the way warriors bled Beowulf was ready and calmly said I have his fingers how about his arm instead Attacking the creatures buckled arm ripping it off golem then ran and fled Beowulf grabbed arms and said fingers now arm soon his head They reassembled on horses arms ready and raged Gave chase All fell but Beowulf by accord golem laid dead he lead deeper around bend mother by him seducing Beowulf of power and ***** by all that was said Beowulf accepted the fouls bargain But all was not well in thee end Dragon flew to the sky warriors of King Beowulf Fend Beowulf killed his son of the dervish deal the dragon But deadly wounds of were not on dragon alone Beowulf had fallen both a killing blow send Beowulf funeral ceremony of fire and water below the deep the foul was spotted to be burned alive with Beowulf lover in arms Blasphemy and Treacherous woes for all of she slaughtered Now known Beowulf deed leading men like fodder Against them knowing deal he had waged Too be written and sung in the latter days Beowulf the hero king the liar the cheat they called Beowulf the man flawed as all that ultimately brought his downfall
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Nov 20, 2020
Nov 20, 2020 at 6:56 PM UTC
Beowulf tales of man
Beowulf the hier of nothing of rot Mother  he know not Raised in shame banished wroght Returned to his village to seek wrothgar a father he yet sought News of death the sorrow he fought Till the night trouble it brought Grendal at night did strike Killing thous from wicked and strife None but Beowulf saw the **** of the fight Guards did come, and saw a false sight Beowulf they thought the killer that night Sentenced to death but never to suffer that blight Beowulf escaped and rode at dawn, Off to seek golem and where he lurk Off to the woods there they found Grendal With much haste golem charged Beowulf dirk was drawn Hacking off the fingers of golem was hurt Grendal roared and ran Holding tightly to his wounded hand Beowulf returned with trophy in bag gasps where made across the land Guards double watch patrolling village to make a stand Night came and blood was shed Grendal made way to the mead hall all the way warriors bled Beowulf was ready and calmly said I have his fingers how about his arm instead Attacking the creatures buckled arm ripping it off golem then ran and fled Beowulf grabbed arms and said fingers now arm soon his head They reassembled on horses arms ready and raged Gave chase All fell but Beowulf by accord golem laid dead he lead deeper around bend mother by him seducing Beowulf of power and ***** by all that was said Beowulf accepted the fouls bargain But all was not well in thee end Dragon flew to the sky warriors of King Beowulf Fend Beowulf killed his son of the dervish deal the dragon But deadly wounds of were not on dragon alone Beowulf had fallen both a killing blow send Beowulf funeral ceremony of fire and water below the deep the foul was spotted to be burned alive with Beowulf lover in arms Blasphemy and Treacherous woes for all of she slaughtered Now known Beowulf deed leading men like fodder Against them knowing deal he had waged Too be written and sung in the latter days Beowulf the hero king the liar the cheat they called Beowulf the man flawed as all that ultimately brought his downfall
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42
Today a thousand burdens coalesced; Mind-monsters made meal of me. Grief carved my face. Cry not, cry not, We have no room for more tears. In the morning, I saw dawn rising, And a grey world turn green. The sky was emptiness, blue bold music, Over the sun that swift leapt high. So cry not, cry not, my friend in sorrow, Though masked faces weep in silence. We are not alone in this desperate anger; Dim lies the light before dawn.
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Jun 27, 2020
Jun 27, 2020 at 1:09 PM UTC
Hope
Meet me at the edge of the mountain With your arms around me, breath heavy Take me away, towards the persimmon sun. Rest your head upon my shoulder And share with me authors you read fondly. Send me to a land, where gleaming parties and revolutions are canon. Sit and read to me of Grendel And the darklings of Keats, his solemn pastorials Protect me from all, Sir Beowulf, my knight with bravery ineffable. Traverse with me the woods Away from the cabin, and to the pond. Tell me of the leaves you see-- muddy, mucky, made webbed. Sing to the moon the poetry of your swoon The light that cares and dusts away your desk O Gabriel, my knight and day, scare away his hooves. Lead me to a life far from Auerbach Yet so near, through your words on our mountain walk.
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Dec 30, 2019
Dec 30, 2019 at 1:16 AM UTC
Knight and Day
°                °       ☽     °   °              °       °   °          °        ___________________________
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Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 4:28 AM UTC
Are you better or a beast when no one is watching ?
As children, we are told to be a Beowulf. To be brave and to put others before ourselves, To be the strongest and the best, We are told to be the perfect hero. In this day and age, it is never really okay to make mistakes, even if they say it is. We have a drive within us that being the best and the strongest is our only option. We put the pressure on ourselves to be the Beowulf, which only causes us to wake up the Grendel. But the real problem is, we are ashamed of that. We are ashamed of fear, which causes us to act out and create evil. But when you think about it, what is bravery without fear. Because the truth is, no one is ever going to be one-hundred percent a Beowulf. All of us have a little Grendel inside, it’s called being human. We yell, we scream, we scare each other, We lie, we cheat, we judge. We are vicious and hurtful with our words. At times, we see no light in our hearts, We let evil win. We are often so far from perfect. In fact, the Grendel in me is sometimes more prominent than the Beowulf, But we have to realize that sometimes, that’s okay. You see, if not for the Grendel in me, the Beowulf wouldn’t know it’s true strength. For the Beowulf in me, within all of us, would not fight nearly as hard, because it would have nothing to overcome. The point isn’t to be ashamed of the Grendel within, The point is to keep pushing through so the Grendel doesn’t win. Do not isolate yourself and hide away in the depths of darkness when you can’t seem to find the light. Find the Beowulf within yourselves, Embrace it’s fierce loyalty and drive to destroy evil. Welcome the light within you, If you do that, you will win the war within yourself. To all those out there desperately trying to be the hero: Accept that losing the battle sometimes is okay, Try your best to win the war, But do not take on that army alone, Because the person who fights with no one by their side is bound to lose eventually. Because how can you be a hero, when you have no one by your side?
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Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 1:13 AM UTC
Find the Beowulf within
As children, we are told to be a Beowulf. To be brave and to put others before ourselves, To be the strongest and the best, We are told to be the perfect hero. In this day and age, it is never really okay to make mistakes, even if they say it is. We have a drive within us that being the best and the strongest is our only option. We put the pressure on ourselves to be the Beowulf, which only causes us to wake up the Grendel. But the real problem is, we are ashamed of that. We are ashamed of fear, which causes us to act out and create evil. But when you think about it, what is bravery without fear. Because the truth is, no one is ever going to be one-hundred percent a Beowulf. All of us have a little Grendel inside, it’s called being human. We yell, we scream, we scare each other, We lie, we cheat, we judge. We are vicious and hurtful with our words. At times, we see no light in our hearts, We let evil win. We are often so far from perfect. In fact, the Grendel in me is sometimes more prominent than the Beowulf, But we have to realize that sometimes, that’s okay. You see, if not for the Grendel in me, the Beowulf wouldn’t know it’s true strength. For the Beowulf in me, within all of us, would not fight nearly as hard, because it would have nothing to overcome. The point isn’t to be ashamed of the Grendel within, The point is to keep pushing through so the Grendel doesn’t win. Do not isolate yourself and hide away in the depths of darkness when you can’t seem to find the light. Find the Beowulf within yourselves, Embrace it’s fierce loyalty and drive to destroy evil. Welcome the light within you, If you do that, you will win the war within yourself. To all those out there desperately trying to be the hero: Accept that losing the battle sometimes is okay, Try your best to win the war, But do not take on that army alone, Because the person who fights with no one by their side is bound to lose eventually. Because how can you be a hero, when you have no one by your side?
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35
Cheaply manufactured in India Its fake marbled cover fakier than ever But not as fakey as this assignment “Grendl symbolizes existential…” Cross out cross out crossoutcrossoutcrossout “Grendl symbolizes…” my senior year Nobody understands why I don’t want To go to college, why I quit the band - Grendl and I are both exiles, okay…? Cross out cross out crossoutcrossoutcrossout I love my fountain pen; its deep, dark lines Just like me Refuse to be MLA marginalized “Grendl symbolizes…”
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Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 4:12 PM UTC
A Decomposition Book for School
There once was a man named Beowulf Who was fiercer than a demon or werewolf Except that he had a flaw A dragon made him mortally sore This prologue is prophetic To the ending of this epic So I’ll tell you more Beowulf made his mind up at twenty-three He would race his friend to swim across the sea But fighting many sea monsters is quite trial Beowulf only caught up in the final mile Poor Beowulf, fierce as a werewolf His equal would be hard to find Though Breca nearly beat him He managed to defeat him But he would make up his mind Beowulf made his mind up in his head He would battle Grendel until one was dead But even though his strength could cause a lot of harm Beowulf only severed Grendel’s left arm Poor Beowulf, fierce as a werewolf His equal would be hard to find Though Grendel he had saddened Beowulf wasn’t gladdened And he would make up his mind Beowulf made his mind up then and there He’d **** Grendel’s mother in her watery lair Although the angry tarn-hag had put up a fight Both monsters were beheaded that very night Poor Beowulf, fierce as a werewolf His equal would be hard to find He took a child and mother Like Cain had killed his brother But he had made up his mind Beowulf made his mind up when he was old To slay a raging dragon of whom he’d been told But Beowulf couldn’t deal with the dragon’s fire And he was later burned atop a funeral pyre Poor Beowulf, fierce as a werewolf His equal would be hard to find He once was a great hero And now his worth is zero But he would make up his mind
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Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 1:34 PM UTC
The Saga of Beowulf
There once was a man named Beowulf Who was fiercer than a demon or werewolf Except that he had a flaw A dragon made him mortally sore This prologue is prophetic To the ending of this epic So I’ll tell you more Beowulf made his mind up at twenty-three He would race his friend to swim across the sea But fighting many sea monsters is quite trial Beowulf only caught up in the final mile Poor Beowulf, fierce as a werewolf His equal would be hard to find Though Breca nearly beat him He managed to defeat him But he would make up his mind Beowulf made his mind up in his head He would battle Grendel until one was dead But even though his strength could cause a lot of harm Beowulf only severed Grendel’s left arm Poor Beowulf, fierce as a werewolf His equal would be hard to find Though Grendel he had saddened Beowulf wasn’t gladdened And he would make up his mind Beowulf made his mind up then and there He’d **** Grendel’s mother in her watery lair Although the angry tarn-hag had put up a fight Both monsters were beheaded that very night Poor Beowulf, fierce as a werewolf His equal would be hard to find He took a child and mother Like Cain had killed his brother But he had made up his mind Beowulf made his mind up when he was old To slay a raging dragon of whom he’d been told But Beowulf couldn’t deal with the dragon’s fire And he was later burned atop a funeral pyre Poor Beowulf, fierce as a werewolf His equal would be hard to find He once was a great hero And now his worth is zero But he would make up his mind
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43
TWANG TWANG TWANG Oh how the twang of man’s harp Disrupts my precious sleep. TWANG TWANG TWANG It’s never put at rest, “Control yourself,” I thought. TWANG TWANG TWANG My rage grew deep, I could hear them laugh at me, already an outcast in this young world. TWANG TWANG TWANG Somehow, almost as if I were possessed, I began to **** them one by one. TWANG TWANG TWANG Night by night the casualties grew, I couldn’t control myself, it’s a demon’s curse. TWANG TWANG TWANG I kept killing them, Until the final night. TWANG TWANG TWANG The young hero pulled out my arm And raised it up in a bitter-sweet victory. TWANG TWANG TWANG Away I ran into my lair What have I done? TWANG TWANG TWANG Was this the pain I inflicted on man? The pain was throbbing and strong, like no pain I had ever felt. Finally the world went black. The twang was gone. At peace I will lay forever. I hope mother won’t make the same mistake.
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Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 4:49 PM UTC
The Demon's Curse (A Beowulf Inspired Poem)