literature

The Old Woman

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Cernig's avatar
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Literature Text

Black she comes.
And blue like a bruise. Single-eyed
Uncaring whirlpool waters waiting
For the word of gnosis, the barley seed.
Blood-fed raven, a storm
of Viking dragonhead reivers
Pillaging poesy as camp fuel,
Ravaging from Erato to Euterpe;
Berserk in the wild wood.

No hazelnuts to feed the sow,
Three drops from the cauldron upon our brows
Cannot now save us.
So build up the hollow wicker man, fill him high
With convicted iambic blood-libelous liars,
Wordsmith fakirs still prattling verse-free dolorous couplets,
Psychopompic purveyors of boutique splendor
Bought on the cheap from knock-off Gothic forgers;
The guilty, those who do not know
For whom the cauldron was brewed.
Hope utter darkness will pass us by.

Cold she comes.
Cracking ground in Fimbul anguish,
Unappeased by sacrificial rhyme,
Pecking up poets like barley seed.
Dark and dismal, a storm
Out of the Hyperborian seas,
Brooding and breeding blizzards
Stopping Hu in bardic throat;
Fintan's well frozen fast .
A diatribe.
© 2011 - 2024 Cernig
Comments3
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SylvanSmith's avatar
Very well written. It reminds me of the Celtic (Northern British) legends (as I would guess you intended). Will you be writing anything for Halloween?