A long run last night
under the Silver Eye
Blood on my hide
but not my own.
Here I lie
where the Red Eye
cannot come, where nothing comes
but Death and the turquoise tide.
Here no sound
of song or voice, no hand, alone;
coppery tongue, asleep on bones
and no one comes.
The longhouse winks
its Yellow Eyes, cruel firelight
alive inside, so many smells
a sound like bells
I cannot make
but feel its form
like dust in my throat,
conceived but unborn.
They screamed to see me,
long tongues to greet me slipped
their sharpened iron; I broke them
then, the rafters dripped---
why shouldn't they die?
Soon someone will come.
I Hear Fictional Poets:
Create a poem written from the point of view of a fictional character.
This poem is written in the voice of Grendel, the 'shadow-walker,' monster from Beowulf,
".. an Old English epic poem..[and].. possibly the oldest surviving long poem in Old English..It was written in England some time between the 8th and the early 11th century..." "... Beowulf leaves [his kingdom in Sweden or Norway] to destroy Grendel, who has several times killed those asleep in the mead-hall of [the king of the Danes] after having been disturbed by the noise of the drunken revelers. After a long battle, Beowulf mortally wounds Grendel, and Grendel dies in his marsh-den..."~wikipedia
A favorite tale of mine, retold and filmed many many times.This is my favorite indie movie version.
Untitled, by Zdislav Beksinski
Fair use via wikiart.org
Primitive Man Seated In Shadow, by Odilon Redon