Tag Archives: faith

Die Wilde Jagd

Good morning, everyone! I have been in something of a rut as of late. This has reduced my writing output… but not killed it. Today, I have for you a piece inspired by a fairly popular part of germanic/european culture: The Wild Hunt. Let me know if you dig it in the comments below. Also let me know if you’d have any interest in other mediums for my writing. Youtube channel? Anyway, without further ado…

The Wild Hunt (Die Wilde Jagd)

And so the riders tread their way across the sky,

sheathed in dreaded blackness.

At their head does bray one ghastly steed

that now you’ve seen

is forced to feed.

It strikes a chord

and does pursue

in one cascading cavalcade.

There is no flight

from the absence of light.

Hounds bark and thrash

against their horrid masters

but sounds do not they make,

lest you’ll join them faster.

Ghouls and ghosts do fill their ranks

silenced by swords and bombs and tanks.

Hoofbeats pound

and horns do sound

as sailors crash and drown.

This time it is you they’ve come to see,

so lost are you in that ancient sea.

You’ll join them now

if just to be.

Die Wilde Jagd ist wieder gekommen,

und sie musst fressen.

Cheap Wine

Afternoon! I’ve started labeling these posts with the poem titles. I figured that might be easier if anybody wants to search. At some point I may go back and rename others, but I also kind of like the titles those posts have. Apt in their application, though outdated now as I have outgrown that period. We’ll see if it comes back. Growth is not a linear process. Without further ado, please enjoy today’s poem.

Cheap Wine

Red wine drips from my lips,

descending now

in a gentle cascade

like the slow dripping of a broken faucet in an old, old house.

How could I ever forget the taste of copper?

Like a mouthful of pennies;

far too hard to swallow.

Should I try it again?

The wine, my dear?

I didn’t like it the first time;

or the second.

Do you think I should try it again?

I’ve no real recourse.

Not now, anyway.

It is as it will be.

Every day the words are harder to find.

I should think that, one day,

I’ll not have them at all anymore.

…

Do you think I should try the wine again?

Entombed

Good afternoon, everybody! I’ve got another little piece today. Something sadder than the last one. Without further ado, please enjoy.

Entombed

The writing, my dear.

Scrawled there on the wall;

can you see it?

Those old runes…

What could they mean, my darling?

Chicken-scratch, sure.

But what if?

What if there is something to them?

What if it’s about us?

What if it means something?

All of it.

Can you read it?

Interpret for me the symbols of antiquity?

You always were smarter than me.

I am confused.

Something you’re all too familiar with.

It made me angry before.

Now?

A hollow sadness.

Memories and dreams reverberate through old and decrepit halls.

Could you…

Could you help me remember?

What am I doing here?

Where was I going?

Who are you?

Who…

Who am I?

Back, Behind The Mask

Oftentimes, I feel as if I live behind a mask, one made from all those things which obscure the things that lie behind. I feel as though my heart would break at the very sight of my own face, not to mention those of others. My mind is addled, rife with holes, ripped apart and sewn back together time and time again with each passing day that feels like a year. It is not even two o’clock yet. I am told that time goes faster as you age but my own experience has been one of aching deceleration; my sense of time continues to slow down. Each passing second threatens to become a lifetime, lest I find some way to lose myself. A devastating cycle, truly. Without further ado…

Back, Behind The Mask

There,

in darkness abounds

on that far side of the moon

a face from brass

and eyes from glass,

and in this face

one might see

something seldom seen

in reflections past.

Lights that pass

betwixt the stars

time and time again,

illuminating

and

elucidating

those things

so seldom seen

in times that have passed.

Entombed by iron in steely visage,

behind this mask lies an unspeakable image.

Every garbled word

and metal clang

belies a gentle soul

caged and shackled

in alloys unkind.

Low Tide

Lordy, Lordy, have I been busy. Very tired, very busy. More to do today and more to do tomorrow. I have a piece that I hope will bring you the peace you need to continue marching on. Without further ado…

Low Tide

Sunlight sprays and sparkles

as if it crests the wave

you see down there upon that beach.

The seas come down,

the tides recede,

and leaves are heard in trees behind.

The wind,

it blows,

and finds your every crease

and crevice.

Like the sun,

it illuminates

those hidden things

beneath your beautiful wings.

Harder days

have come and gone,

but end the day,

it’s you who’s won.

In times will be,

oh, the things you will see.

Certainly,

In times that will be.