I Didn’t Fall

In skies of unspilt rain, I swim;
Through cloudy shoals and
Evergreen reefs.

As the golden ship sails
Ever west, a twinkling
Wake in ebon tides

Washes me upon an argent shore
To bask in the place where
I first rose in love.

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Sounds

I close my eyes

Barely perceptible
The wind brushes past my ear
Hushed as a whispered secret

The crowing of a rooster
Rustle of feathers shaking out the dust
And a chorus of peeping chicks

Exhaled breath through a soft muzzle
And the rhythmic grinding
Of fresh grass between teeth

This inadequate language
Unable to replicate
The pitched bird-songs from every tree

Or capture the buzz
Of the hummingbird’s wings
Hovering, climbing, diving

But a distant barking dog
And the click of a shutter
Pass easily into words and imagination

From across the hills
Echo the chattering hum
Of a diesel engine tractor

And the earthy rumble of hooves

En Svensk Dikt

So, long time… I haven’t been idle, but I wanted to put something here at last, even if this is a tiny offering.  Among other things – writing a book, spinning 4 pounds of wool, embroidering, and painting pottery – I’ve now added on “Learn Swedish” to my list of ‘things to do’ – from a site called Duolingo.com.

And I can’t say I’m ready for a visit the land that makes up about a quarter or so of my heritage, but, being true to my spirit, I have already composed a little ‘poem’.

Det är min tallrik, det är min mat
Det är inte för dig, min katt

I won’t promise I got the syntax perfect, but I’m pretty sure it says:

This is my plate, this is my food
This is not for you, my cat

I’ll probably end up painting this in a plate.  Of course, I doubt it will do any good since my cats don’t speak Swedish 😉  But it’ll look cool with some kitty paw prints!

Hope all your years have started off well!

Tuesday Dinner

I feel like Tuesday dinner;
Done with Sunday’s leftovers
Not yet to the Friday special,
Smelling like nothing I want to eat.
No warm oven fresh baked bread
Cinnamon and blackberry cobbler –
This is bland boiled peas
And too-dry to smell like anything meats
Steaming on my plate, threatening
To taste no better than it smells.

I feel like a seventeen year old’s bedroom;
Stale body odor ineffectively masked
By mother’s pungent lemon-fresh spray
With hints of acetone and calendula.
Window tight shut to keep out
The spring breeze and pine trees
And fresh-cut grass hiding just outside.
What I wish I could show to the world
Is marred by what is actually there
No matter how I dress it up.

I feel like a beat poetry club;
Sweet smoke wafting in the low lights,
Air thick with alcohol and sugar
In every breath, sticking to my throat,
Filling my head with dizzy
And my mouth with bad breath.
I just want to curl up in bed
And forget that today ever happened,
Start over tomorrow with my new leaf.
But I can’t get these smells out of my clothes.

Continue reading

Lokadottir

Lokadottir ©2014 Eliza Murdock

Lokadottir ©2014 Eliza Murdock

Now Hel’s abode was beneath the second root of Yggdrasil,
There cast down by Odin, where a portion of the dead are taken.
In winter’s maw she dwelt, within the hall of Éljúðnir.
Her countenance eclipsed, her weeping rose
Even to the ears of her father
Who desired to know the source of such grief.

Then spoke Loki, “What has turned your eyes to seas,
Oh daughter?  What your brow to blackness?”
Hel replied, “For the face of he, oh father,
Who is counted fairest, whom I am denied.
For the company of my heart’s desire,
Barren in my breast as my bed.”

Then spoke Loki, “Be still, oh daughter, and quell your rivers.
Call your servants to array you in dresses and jewels
Your heart’s desire shall be fulfilled, but in time.”
Then upon her father’s cheek Hel gave her offerings of obedience
And her servants bore away her tears in vials of glass,
To make of them jewels upon wires of sunlight and threads of moonlight.

But Loki returned to Ásgarðr, purposed already in his mind
For what father could be blinded to such sorrows?”
Then taking upon him the appearance of an old woman
And in disguise, he persuaded Frigga to tell him Baldr’s weakness;
For the mistletoe alone had she not secured the promise
Of bringing no harm upon her son.

In this was found the chance Loki needed,
And from the plant he crafted a spear.
Giving it to Baldr’s brother to throw
So that it pierced him and instantly he fell dead,
Thus would the fairest of the gods be sent
To the Grave-warden’s halls upon flaming ship.

As Odin banished Hel, so Loki sent Baldr, also,
And to her bosom he was received, fairest of the gods.
When the Æsir came with supplications for his return
She replied that unless the whole of creation grieved –
Even as she had grieved for his absence –
Then he would not be released from the grave.

All creation grieved, save for one alone;
Who, being Loki in disguise, ensured his daughter’s joy.
What father is there who would do more?
As Odin banished Hel, so Loki sent Baldr, also,
To bind them until Ragnarok.
For as Odin does, so too shall Loki Laufeyson.

Continue reading

Stones

So, I said I had more stories, and here’s another one.

While I was in Navajo Nation, I got a chance to listen to a young man talk about his pottery.  I won’t even begin to do this story justice, but basically he lives in an area that was once inhabited by the Anasazi people, and he can walk around his house and around the rock formations and find old pieces of broken pottery, formed and painted so long ago.  And it inspired him to start making his own, based partially on what he finds and partially on a modern twist to their forms and designs.

I thought that was one of the coolest things I had ever heard!  He had some pieces he showed us, and told us about how he makes and fires the pottery, and how he creates the dyes, and all of it how it was done for centuries.

His story then inspired me to do something like that!  I can walk around my house and pick up stones, and then just like *my* ancestors did, I started making stone carvings!  Ok, so I cheat a bit and use a dremel instead of arduous hand carving with manual tools, but still, I’m loving this so much!

My sister got the first one.  She asked if I could do a scrolly design in green.  I said yes to the scrolly, but said there was no way I could color it that it would last, I only have water-based paints and they’d wash off too easily.  But I got a nice pendant-shaped stone and started carving away.

Then… as I sat at my computer desk… out of the corner of my eye… what should I see?? But green nail polish!  Yes! That’s it, enamel, that won’t wash off at all!  And if it’s tucked into the groove of the carving, it won’t chip off, either!  So my sister got her green scrolly design in the end! 🙂

stone pendants

stone pendants

That, along with the other two, were the first ones I tried.  I was using a diamond tipped bit, so it would drill through the stone, and had to keep the stone constantly wet to prevent stone dust from getting into the motor and to keep the stone and bit cool.  (also, wear a dust mask!  The stuff in rock can be super-duper awful to get in your lungs!  As awful as that dust mask smells, it’s preferable to the alternative!)

Well, after having such success with that, I decided to try others, drilling lots of little stones into tiny bead-kinda things, I don’t have pictures of those yet – coming soon.  But then I was telling a gal at work about it and ended up making three more just tonight when I got home, two for ladies at work and one for me.  One of the gals collects heart-shaped stones, so I carved a heart onto hers so she could have a “heart stone” with her always!

Heart-stone pendant

Heart-stone pendant

The other gal gets this fabulous red stone pendant:

Red stone with crystal beads

Red stone with crystal beads

And I carved my Norse SCA name into this and then added gold nail polish to the letters to make them sparkle (you can’t see it very well in this picture but it’s there.  Trust me.)

"Sigga" stone pendant

“Sigga” stone pendant

 

So this is my new hobby to add to the growing collection.  Stone carving.  Soon I’ll work my way up to larger stones and larger images (beyond pendants) like the Norse did all over the bloody place.

 

I also painted a cavern scene.  I can’t really blame this on anything except maybe an abundance of rocks on the brain 😉

©2014 Eliza Murdock

Sub-landscape ©2014 Eliza Murdock

(that’s supposed to be an underground lake… and yes, that may just possibly have been meant to be a city down there. >.> )

 

Oh, and almost forgot, in celebration of the whole Norse thing going on, I’ll add a third poem to the prompt I posted in my last entry for every word starting with the same letter of the alphabet.

 

Vaginal Vacancy

Vikings verberate violently,
Verily! Valkyrie voices vie!

Vivid vigils viewed: vigorous, volatile.
Vanity vanishes, victory verges.
Voracious vyings, vaginal vacancies
Voluptuous vexations visit.

Valour, virtue vomited.
Vague vapors vent vitality
Vibrating veins, vindicating validating
Visceral vignettes vicariously.
 
Vikings verberate violently,
Verily! Valkyrie voices vie!

Violet vineries ventured,
Vast vats voiding vows.
Vibrant vert vale vistas
Vast vassaled vaults.

Vilified voyeuristic visits
Via vestal virgin, vandaling vulvas.
Veiled velvet vortecies
Violated viciously, vilely.

Vikings verberate violently,
Verily! Valkyrie voices vie!