shallowenddeep
Pagan Poetry
My name is Jacker Limen. I'm a pagan, poet, life hacker, Viking of sorts. This started off as my page to write my own poetry, now it's just everything that is in my soul. Take it or leave it. Enjoy. Live by the hammer, die by the sword.
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SLYTHERIN: “Think big, think positive, never show any sign of weakness. Always go for the throat. Buy low, sell high. Fear? That’s the other guy’s problem.” –Timothy Harris (Louis Winthorpe III: Trading Places)
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The Start
Once on a time, when the world was young
I got up early with the sun
For I was keen the day to see
You’d think I was a busy bee
But I was quiet in my way
On to the pond set in the clay
The empty world that had no fear
The dewy dawn where shadows spear
Was magical - the blackbird’s song
Was sun-dialled by the shadows long
It was my fate to understand
That here Hope took me by the hand
And said, “ Whatever sorrows come
I showed the first of what LOVE’s done.”
A poem by my friend and fellow poet: Alex
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Snow flakes falls softly into crystal clear water. Beautiful. Source
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PSA
If you’re a Norse pagan that sympathizes with the alt-right/neo nazi movement or is a neo nazi that uses Norse pagan symbols, please smash that unfollow button and block me.
I don’t want that filth here.
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Hail the Gods!
May Odin give you knowledge.
May Thor grant you strength to overcome obstacles.
May Eir grant you peace of mind and help you heal.
May Tyr protect you from unjust people.
May Loki grant you laughter through his tricks.
May Freya help you feel love when you feel unloved.
—@nerdygymrat
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Forest Dance
My bones tire for the night, not unlike
The melancholic sun in its descent,
The scent of the evening pine
Tends to my nostrils,
It lulls me into a deep slumber, one would
Imagine the smell was a drug, and yet.
The bark that surrounds me provides
Rest for the other beating hearts, and
It is autumn after all, the leaves must
Fall, down onto my pronated body,
They sew themselves into a neatly
Threaded silk, sheltering me from vicious
Bloodsuckers of the nighttime; the bumps
Covering my pasty skin from
The drafty winds, carrying my mind home.
Amongst everything, the dance never ceases,
And it makes me believe I’m immortal
Like the soil beneath my spine, and
The sun will rise again, with no
Recollection of this night, and yet
It will repeat itself, like an amnesiac.
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