The Yule Goat

 

 

 

For some continuity in a chaotic time, I repost this Yule poem from 2011 and wish all the happiest of Yuletides, while we leave the New Year to fend for itself. 

Happy Yule to All!

Yule Goat

In December’s dark descent

across crackled breaking sky ice

slivered with dagger snow,

bells ring in whitened night, sharp

hooves stamp on the cloudcloth

shaking pearl dust stripes on

emerald spruces' candelabra arms,

turquoise and white pinwheels

circling their wands

of bitter bark raven haunted.

The god of thunders 

pulls the sun's shadow,

flickering hammer tucked

in his brace of clouds,

drives his twin goats

toward the time when day

and night are strait, equals at last

as Odin's wild hunt 

passes damned, mad,

howling overhead

The Snarler and the Grinder

fleet of foot, heedless of fate
run on; tonight's feast, tomorrow’s

feat, killed for meat this starveling
night, raised at dawn.
Spread the skins and 
let each bone 

fall with care so

those here reborn 

race again on the solar wind.

O bright black eye

split with too much knowledge

devil’s mask, canting voice

of the abyss, god's bearer, hunger's enemy

come bless us this Yule with your
yellow stare, ignite yourself

against the hag’s winter storm,

flute your flames through a straw ribcage. 

Watch us make the old dance new again

under the reckless stars.

 

 

The Gävle goat

December 2011

In Norse myth, Thor was not only provided with his mountain-shattering hammer Mjölnir, his magical, strength doubling belt Megingjörð, but a chariot in which he traveled through the sky pulled by two goats, Tanngrisnir (Old Norse "teeth-barer, snarler") and Tanngnjóstr (Old Norse "teeth grinder") spoken of in the Prose Edda, who could be slain for food at Thor's discretion then resurrected with the power of Mjölnir and returned to the traces.~ from wikipedia: 'The Yule Goat is one of the oldest Scandinavian and Northern European Yule and Christmas symbols and traditions. Originally denoting the goat that was slaughtered during the Germanic pagan festival of Yule, "Yule Goat" now typically refers to a goat-figure made of straw. It is also associated with the custom of wassailing, sometimes referred to as "going Yule Goat" in Scandinavia.' As always, I've taken a few liberties with the letter of the myths.You can read more about the folklore of the Yule Goat here  and the Wild Hunt here.





Images:
Header Photo: Goat watching, by DAV.es,  on flick'r
Shared under a Creative Commons License 
Footer Photo: The Gävle goat burning, author unknown
All copyright belongs to the copyright holder

Hunter

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Hunter

 

The heart is hunting alone and lean

after the things she thinks she has seen;

 

after meat on the doe not the sweetgrass sea

wind-combed in waves to wild-braided streams;

 

after the caterpillar's cuts and devours

not the greenstem-road to wings that it follows.

Her running breath catches at all the wrong times

at the taste of the dove, not the air it can climb.

The heart is hunting and so cannot fly

for that most alive is the thing which must die

 

too heavy to carry

too sought to let lie.

 

But when the hunt falters, breath evens and slows.

When the hunter suddenly unstrings her bow

what was looked for is seen in a stillness of light;

 shining like tears in the last hour of night.

 

 

 

 July 2022

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

posted for earthweal's

Wild Stillness

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Images: Hunter, artist unknown, via internet   Fair Use

Woman in Grass, © Fosco Maraini, via internet Fair Use

Three Tigers

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Three Tigers

(a 55)

Three tigers by the sea

waiting for my company,

frightened by the gunner's moon;

three tigers hungry soon.

Three tigers in the millet;

artist, lover and a poet

find their game, make it run,

eat the work when they have done.

Two wet tigers in the storm;

 I laugh and keep the good one warm.

 

 

 

 

 April 2022

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

posted for dVerse Poets

Open Link Night

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Images: Dream Caused By The Flight Of A Bee Around A Pomegranate A Second Before Awakening,1941, ©Salvador Dali  Fair Use

Tiger In A Tropical Storm-Surprised, 1891, ©Henri Rousseau  Fair Use

 

Observed In The Wild

 

 

 

 

Observed In The Wild

 

 

 

 

I found you first in the green evening

a secret burn of elongated lines

sketched into the mural of bending pines

by wind's unseen ink, traveling the trail

on an old scent caught in the bracken;

then the adrenaline snap

of your head my way.

You called me from my campfire

to answer the brown beg in your eye,

to fall beneath you like aspen leaves

at your season's yellow turn,

as my own summer died around me.

Pulled like gut to the crescent bow

of the reckless huntress, I chased you

through evergreen shadow, along bone-clean

clattered rockfall, dry creeks where

only the musk smell of hope drew me on

past the deadfalls and I would guess at your way

by the arrowhead and adder's mouth rising

in your wake. Too many years you ran ahead

to pleasure a dozen others who never

saw your winter,

but often when the itch was unbearable in

the time-crack of April's acid sun, you

came to me in the clearing, to rub the felt

from your horns on my shoulder and moan

my name like a sacrifice

low and heavy as the white bull

of Poseidon knee deep in the

sacred wave before the knife.

 February 2022

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

posted for earthweal's

Green Fire

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Notes: Arrowhead (Sagittaria Latifolia) and the wild orchid known as green adder's mouth(Malaxis unifolia) are common North American wildflowers. Pardon the mixed metaphors of stag and bull which in time-honored fashion I ascribe to poetic license.You can read a quick synopsis of the myth of King Minos, his wife, the white bull sent him by Poseidon, its pursuit by Heracles and its eventual sacrifice by Theseus here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Images: Pine Forest II, 1901, © Gustav Klimt  Public Domain

Head of a Stag, 1634, © Diego Velazquez     Public Domain

Fenrir

 

 

 

 

 

 Fenrir

 

 

"..from where will a sun come into the smooth heaven
when Fenrir has assailed this one?"~Vafþrúðnismál

 

I.

 

They say the basilisk

walks her own wasteland,

each green thing that springs

corrupted by her breath,

 

each life that starts

turned to stone as

she spies it, so that she lives 

with nothing all her days.

 

She knows the sphinx

has long since forgotten

all riddles but the one

whose answer is sand.

 

 

II.

 

The wolf at the door

puts his paw on the child's neck.

His breath smells of tiny lives, 

his eyes are round as the moon.

He waits with her for the Ragnarök

to devour the world, to swallow the gods

to bring a new sun

to the skies we defile

but while waiting he smiles

his dog-smile, his tongue soft on her cheek.

From deep in the shadows 

the basilisk regrets

 

the power of myth, and

 the child

waits to grow

and run with the wolf.

December 2021

 

 

 

 

posted for Fireblossom

at

The Sunday Muse

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Note: In Norse myth,  ragnarök refers not only to a time when gods and men will fight against monsters and jotuns and be destroyed, but also to the world which will follow, where the earth is purified and gods, nature and man are given a second chance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Images: Odin and Fenris, 1909 © Dorothy Hardy   Public Domain

Wolf and child, via The Sunday Muse  author unknown Fair Use

 

The Rose In The Maze

The Rose In The Maze

From night's peak the color-thieving haze

came blowing down just before the dawn

pulled hissing thru a deep brown camel's eye,

desert's shifting face deskinned and drawn

three thousand miles across the sea to daze

anew the eyes already fey, to grey each face,

salting every indrawn breath with lye,

hiding the rose in the center of the maze.

No different than the incidental drape

of caustic fog upon the casement of the times,

another baffling slap to the heart's blind bird

whose only instinct ever was to fly

uncaged, to make her thousand mile escape,

to give her feathers to the wind to break

or hold, to find somewhere a living branch unburned

and sing to the hidden rose no one can take.

June 2020

posted for

The Sunday Muse

Process note: There is a massive cloud of Saharan dust covering a large portion of the southeastern US and other areas at the moment, causing hazy skies and respiratory problems for some. Here is a link to some info, and pics of how it appears in the Caribbean, from BBC.

Images: White Rose in Pink Smoke, artist unknown, courtesy of Sunday Muse   Fair Use
A stylized textile book covering from the Netherlands, circa 1615-1650, depicting a rose  Fair Use

Friday 55 January 19 2018

Another Friday, another chance to remember and to work with the Friday 55, a meme for writers long maintained by a good man now departed, but for many of us still present in memory, Galen Hayes. Here we write for the pleasure of writing, with no rules other than that each example of prose or poetry contain 55 words, no more, no less. If you are in the mood for the exercise, link your example in the comments below, and I will be by to read and appreciate. The 55 will be alive from early Friday morning through Sunday morning. As always, comment moderation is off, but I reserve the right to apply the delete key to any passing trollish ones.

 My offering for this winter wild week in January ...

Winter Gods

Winter
tests the craven

and the brave

 limping calf, ravens' black eye-sparkle,

 days short of breath

lopped 

at the knee
by snow-padded knife.

Still
the gods hunt wild

calling where green light raids

the skyliving now.

Wolves

follow the herds 

 howling the words to
godsongs of blood,

old hungers' lore,

scenting ahead
the last home.

 ~January 2018

Optional Musical Accompaniment

"...Who shall sing me

into deathsleep sling me

when I on the path to Hel go

I sought the songs

I sent the songs

then the deepest well

gave me tears so harsh

of Death-father's  wager..."

(from Helvegen, translated)

I've written of the Wild Hunt before; if you're unfamiliar with it, there is a quick reprise of most of the myths associated with it here. 

Images :Northern Lights in Iceland, The Wild Hunt, via internet, no authors known.
Fair Use.