| 
|
Page: Profile: Poetry
| Total Views: 6,100,484
|
Poem Specs
VxPoem ID: 30105
Category:
devotional
Posted: September 8th. 2007 6:19:44 AM
Views: 289 |
The Burning Hammer
by Paulien van der Krift
Age Group: Adult
By the ghastly fire sat a man silently in sorrow and torment
His back ached and cracked as he bent over the grate
In spite of the dark he considered his fate,
As the flames sent their sparkles over the hour that was late
The barricaded windows blocked the light of the moon up high,
silenced the wind’s sigh and the howling and the screaming
The hourglass that stood upon the ground would soon end the dreaming
and the aged man was bound to acknowledge that the hour was nigh
Suddenly the front door burst open and a youngster stepped in,
his face wild, the light of a thin candle to illuminate his pale skin
He was followed by the smallest shepherd, covered in sand and dirt
and they quickly entered, for the outside rage became absurd
The old man looked up in weariness, his back creaking as he turned,
his wrinkles deepening by the light of the candle that burned,
the flames mocking their remorse and wished for the dark to choke,
as the aged one lifted himself and in a trembling voice he spoke:
‘Where is the Lord, the Lady and her silk?
What has happened to the grain, the heather and the milk?’
‘The silk has been taken, ’ the youngster answered shaken,
as he placed down the candle beside the hourglass on the floor,
‘The milk has been spilled and the heather will burn forever more,
while the grain now has their own houses filled.’
‘The Lord and the Lady fled up the hill, ’ said the shepherd as he wept,
‘but the followers of Christ had their own will and up the slope they swept.
Their spears were faster than the screams and scattered their dreams,
and they fell – they were dead, I could tell.’
The old man sighed gravely and stared at the still dancing flames,
while a sudden banging made the barricaded windows rattle in their frames
‘They are here!’ cried the smallest shepherd and he grabbed the aged one’s arm
‘They have come in the name of the Hammer, you must sound the alarm!’
‘We can warn and we can fight, ’ answered the old man in the shadow of doom,
‘but they bear the fires of madness and will find us very soon.
We can run and we can flee, but on the matter I must press:
their fires will burn us nonetheless.’
‘They convicted my father and his brother, ’ said the young one tightly,
‘Now through the fields they file, burning our crops wildly
They fill their houses with silver and gold, defying the laws of old,
but following the tales of the books that they hold.’
‘They took my sheep, my flute and my hound, ’ piped the shepherd in sorrow,
‘and now by their strings we are bound, their actions are soar and hollow.
They are here now, to the shelter we must,
or else we shall be delivered to their reign and their lust!’
The shepherd made ready to stand, but the young held on tightly to his hand,
while the old stood to his feet, lifting the younger ones from their seat
‘We are the People of the Meadows, ’ said he with a sudden glee,
‘And no matter what they burn, we shall always remain free.
‘Now take off your shoes and hold the candle close to your heart
Though your flute has gone, my boy, listen to the music of your inner bard
Embrace the remains of the bliss that roams still over our fields
and love the final bits of warmth that the last grain yields.’
The shepherd took off his sandals and the young cast away his boots,
while the last flames in the grate descended back to their roots
The air fell silent and the aged man opened the door with steady hands,
revealing the trembling darkness that covered their ancient lands
A sudden spear soared past his ear, but the man remained in place,
while the hourglass shattered, scattering glass with an eerie grace
Dots of fire were dancing ruthlessly in the veiled distance ahead,
but still he set foot towards the smoke rising from the flowerbed
The youngster and the shepherd followed without doubt,
though shuddering by the muttering of a dying crowd
They would soon face the fire and face the Crow,
as the man halted and sank into a deep bow
‘The last hour is here, ’ he sang to the followers of the Hammer,
‘but the end will never arrive, for our souls will stay alive.
You can take our lands, you can take our lives,
but our souls will remain with glamour.’
‘By the Gods and by the heather, ’ said the shepherd with pride,
‘I shall embrace the tide of the weather, the earth is on our side.’
‘By the light of this candle, ’ said the youngster, ‘I shall handle
the flames that embrace me and forever I will be free.’
A bell sounded in the distance and the stars faded away,
as a fire was unleashed and it sent its flames astray
The aged one’s last words were spoken before he fell,
along with the shepherd, the youngster, and the moon would still tell:
‘No matter how they plague, no matter how they burn;
their reign shall not last forever and one day we shall return.’
Author's Notes: Wasn't sure in which catagory to put it... This poem came to me as I was scrolling through my old essay, and read the part about the Malleus Maleficarum (The Witches Hammer) .
I still don't think it's perfect, or at least good enough... Maybe I will adjust and finish it in time.
© Paulien van der Krift
Do NOT take / NIET nemen a.u.b.
Author's Location: Breda, Netherlands
Author's Profile: To learn more about Paulien van der Krift - Click HERE
Contact Me Via Email...
Email Invites Note: Yes! I have opted to receive invites to Pagan events, groups, and commercial sales
Disclaimer: The Witches' Voice inc does not verify the accuracy of the details stated in this listing, nor do we vouch for the value of the goods or services presented here... As with all contacts and financial dealings in cyberspace, we encourage you to use caution and wisdom in your dealings with strangers.
Political Statements: Any and all personal political opinions expressed in the public listing sections (including, but not restricted to, personals, events, groups, shops, Wren's Nest, etc.) are solely those of the author(s) and do not reflect the opinion of The Witches' Voice, Inc. TWV is a non-profit, non-partisan educational organization.
|
State/Country flags created by 3dflags.com and are used with permission
Web Site Content (including: text - graphics - html - look & feel)
Copyright 1997-2009 The Witches' Voice Inc. All rights reserved
Note: Authors & Artists retain the copyright for their work(s) on this website.
Unauthorized reproduction without prior permission is a violation of copyright laws.
Website structure, evolution and php coding by Fritz Jung on a Macintosh G5.
Any and all personal political opinions expressed in the public listing sections (including, but not restricted to, personals, events, groups, shops, Wren’s Nest, etc.) are solely those of the author(s) and do not reflect the opinion of The Witches’ Voice, Inc. TWV is a nonprofit, nonpartisan educational organization.
Sponsorship: Visit the Witches' Voice Sponsor Page for info on how you
can help support this Community Resource. Donations ARE Tax Deductible.
The Witches' Voice carries a 501(c)(3) certificate and a Federal Tax ID.
Mail Us: The Witches' Voice Inc., P.O. Box 341018, Tampa, Florida 33694-1018 U.S.A.
| |
|
