"northernmost" poems
(This poem was discovered etched/burnt into the interior woodwork of a viking ship of around 800AD, discovered in the north of England in the '60s. Quite possibly from the northernmost islands around the area now referred to as Archangel, and originally written in what became known as Runic/Russo Scandinavian, it nevertheless resonates clear Saxon/German tonality. Given that it is one of the first examples of early Runic, and indeed that the actual letter-shapes are unclear, the poem has been reproduced below, using broad phonetic license.
As far as can be determined, the content appears to be a somewhat ribald message from the ships leader to his wife. It was not uncommon for women/wives to accompany their men folk on long voyages. Given cramped conditions aboard, the conditions were likely to be insanitary and it is this condition that informs the subject). WJL
Das andrs zu-almen su-cara
Archezum des hafta confagra
Der ecra zu alpe
En pecra nachte schalpe
Viel ondra der zulpa te bag-ra
Und zortem pur ordour cloabera
Eh-min-te ah solbra schactarar
Sul-phereth zum tinctum
Abroath ah den penk-tum
Bai anthe con anthe ebactah-ra
Zorbuhr genkst canke zer vilk-um
Solginster zep ecra der nep-ehlcome
Calmen-de ser paarte
Eh zin bah die faarte
Confide ah can-de zum schtinc-tulm
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 5:23 AM UTC
Electric dreams of crying electric sheep
Sweep through my mind full of sleep
Dance across the diamond sky
And wave as your silhouette goes by
Crying crystal eyes fixed upon the sun
With no thoughts of many but just one
The one who sings in hazy blue bars
Illuminated like the northernmost stars
Melodies warm the air and the heart
Drift past the door and into the dark
Deep in the mystery of human life
Rests the emotion tied to one night
Calm and frail under sapphire skies
Doubt and worry in worn-out eyes
Never known yet unignored
Never had but longed for
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 9:11 PM UTC
*for R.A.
our northern friend*
~
one foot in two countries,
she is enjambment symbolic,
running a single stanza
without a syntactical break,
by standing simultaneous
in two neighboring cultures
causing her dear readers
from near and far,
some, like me,
from across the borderline,
considerable multifarious symptoms
of
well considered verbal confusion
this,
a gifted special talent
from
she
who straddles
all kinds of borders
that divide
her
and
unite
her,
that
can be understood/revealed tho,
when observing the northernmost night skies
eh?
expert in modulating
extreme snowed under bay
winterized temperatures,
counterpointed by
drivingopen highways
on summer plains
where the dotted line is
all there is to see
for miles, thousandths wide
she-poet
oft goes quiet,
expelling her breath
between word roarings,
gentlest of periodic
verbal sweets
genteel
my word version for her
gentle so,
in a way that
makes gentility
deserve the nobility
inherent
that is the
work word
that always comes first
when we need to place her,
another star
in the night
flying frying
firmament
enjambment - her word
means I am
all in,
with both hands,
resting on both jambs
of an arched window
that she architects,
peering in,
Making Sure,
I have come to the right place
where she-poet
builds skylights of
northern lights,
igniting
adore her sweet
confusion,
but better yet,
her poems
of clarification
that explain all in,
why when,
we
all look up,
thru her
window exquisite
that she
meant
for us
we always first
turn our glacé glance
northwards
strangely, seeking, illogically,
but not really,
warmth
in the she-poets
northern way
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 8:00 AM UTC
Fighter jets in formation
Above Ekeberg Hill
Remind me of years
Spent on airbases
During my time in the
Royal Norwegian Air Force.
I was stationed at NATO's
Northernmost base during 9/11.
Minutes after plane #2,
I was upgraded to
NATO Top Secret
Clearance.
Given live ammo for my P80.
Witnessing the colonel's
Marlboro Light shake in his
Usually steady hand as I
Approached; MSO briefcase
Handcuffed to my wrist.
There were papers inside
I was expected to
Die for.
I was 22.
Not even the police carry
Firearms in this country.
Not even the police are expected
To give up ghost over information.
For a nation of such ******
History, we maintain a mellow
Attitude.
We choose peace over "piece".
Gun-sense over violent nonsense.
Naïve? Maybe.
There are nearly no shootings here.
We've had one lethal act of
Terrorism since WWII.
We can live with that.
Literally.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
Surya Lights the blazing candle in the sky
and our day begins
on a pillow of clouds my spirit
bows at His vast blue altar
In fact, gods, goddesses, earthlings
and all the inhabitants of the Cosmos
kneel and prostrate at His glorious, life giving Feet
Today Lord Surya ascends to His northernmost
temple in the heavens
Courtly tablas boom, traditional Indian trumpets blare
Sweet sticky aroma and flavors of
sesame and jaggery confection
overflow in banquet halls on earth and in Kailasa
Colorful kites, bits of starry confetti
drift downward from the celestial celebration
David and I, our hands folded in prayer
stand on the front lawn offering our salutations
to the Golden Lord
By Serendipitous good fortune, my brother Chris just happens
to pass by at this moment and stops to join
us in our Sun worship
Happy Makar Sankranti
May Surya Deva's auspicious saffron rays
bless you with Peace, Love and Prosperity
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 6:44 PM UTC
...There is no element, in existence,
equal, to me,
with the force,
and polarity, of you.
Take me...take me, further in.
I will not,
I could not...ever, resist you.
My will, is hammered carbon;
yet, this contract, of the soul...
it is ironclad.
Draw me,
into the tensity,
of your unbroken field.
Does your ghost, hover
like magnetite,
at the northernmost point,
of its own compass needle?
Does your shadow, dwell
in its arrowhead shape?
Does your heart, steel,
its directional pull?
I cannot pass you by,
but to be drawn,
into the divine gravity,
of your embrace.
Sweet...so sweetly,
do you hold fast, to me.
My lips, shudder,
tremulous,
with an irrepressible urge
to glue themselves
to the nectarine sweetness,
of sunbaked flesh.
Take me...take me, further in.
Leech me, of resistance.
Break me, of my defenses.
Shatter this separation,
that pulses fiercely, between us,
and pin me, to the core, of you.
Keep me, always...
yours, alone;
yours forever...
and worlds, may end,
castles, may rubble.
Entire civilizations,
may fall, to ancient ash,
Before these lips,
could ever dream,
of leaving, you.
Sep 2, 2025
Sep 2, 2025 at 3:35 PM UTC
"oh how remarkable",
my front porch says
a welcoming mat,
a porcelain frog,
and a marble foyer
...and i've never been to scandinavian lands
frostbitten icing lines northernmost shores
the cold is brooding,
love will prevail
of course it will always-
but it's just that i choose to employ...
an easy retirement here could suffice
don't interject my utopian dream
a life in a land that i equated to peace
no child, this is not a delusional fleeting
bright-lighted is the sky,
clouds grace high peaks
oh how remarkable
is every lovebird,
oh how remarkable
it is to me...
Nov 18, 2019
Nov 18, 2019 at 3:48 PM UTC
Roaming the prairies and fields
of confusion
Coursing the oceans and lakes
of delusion
Resetting my compass by the
northernmost star
Journeying inward
—where near meets the far
(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)
Oct 4, 2021
Oct 4, 2021 at 12:11 PM UTC