Shipwrecked in the Hands of the Gods

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Shipwrecked on black shores,
drawn by Asgard’s glowing waters
green with mead of poetry.
Heralded by fire, we stagger,
shackled in terrible wyrd,
following the gods’ desires.

Mountains spit dawn’s light,
Freya burns in the night’s
fading wilting bliss.
Her kisses forge shores
to dragon skin, sea’s hiss,
cooling her ardour.

Jormungand slips
from beneath Aegir’s seas.
Mist languishes in ash hills.
Thor’s hammer thunders,
smashing mountains,
melting rock.

Loki dances paths of flame,
leading doomed sailors
through ashen fog,
born of fire, earth,
and beating waves
that bark like devil-dogs.

The underworld groans
beneath quaking feet.
Jormungand lairs in the hollow
bones of Ymir’s corpse.
Lava tunnels echo with beating
hammers, dwarfs yammer,
Hel weaves spears of crystal foam.
Water inhabits stone,
runes drip with endless night,
and the dead covet numinous light.

My sight falters, the shrieking wind
heralds Ragnarok. The land splits
in the hands of the gods.

This poem was inspired by a trip I took to Lanzarote in what seems like the distant past now. It represents a technique that I have embraced in my creative writing on hive, finding inspiration and expression from the places I visit, looking at a place I've visited with a writers' eye - finding the essence of a landscape before following up with research for the ideas and metaphors that spring from the canvas of memory.

I find photographs to be a catalyst in sparking strong visual memories, which is part of the reason I snap so many when travelling. I often take notes of the sensory impressions when I'm at the location, the sounds of the wind over the volcanic rocks, the distant cadence of the ocean's song, the smell of sulphur and a dry almost metal tinge of volcanic dust. These are all sensory memories of a hike I took up a volcano in Lanzarote that inspired the poem above.

This type of practice is essential for colouring the narrative in a poem with strong and authentic imagery. If you can't get that essence of a place flowing throughout a poem, then the narrative will be bland and somewhat trite. I always strive to grasp the essence of a place while travelling, in how I look at things while becoming still of mind when observing natural elements. This quiet observance brings an intensity that lends itself to poetry in particular, as you pick out the fine detail with your mind while feeling the overall spirit of the place in your heart (or subconsciously). This may sound a little airy-fairy but it's hard to describe, it's a little like meditation. Research can be done afterwards, but the true sense of place needs to be recorded deep down in the bones.

As you may have noticed the poem explores Viking mythology, imagining what those people might have thought if shipwrecked on the Island of Lanzarote. Much of the island looks like descriptions of Ragnarök, and the Viking end-of-days myth. As I have studied both Norse and Greek Mythology heavily for use in my fantasy WIP (work in progress) it seemed natural for this poem to be written from the perspective of a Viking, fearing the worse that he has washed up on the shores of the Land of the gods at the end of days.

Thanks for reading 🙂🌿

All pictures used in this post and in the video are mine taken in Lanzarote. The music used in the background of the poetry reading is creative commons licences from free-stock-music.com, credit to Alexander Nakarada

If you have enjoyed this poetry post, please check out my other work on my homepage Hive account@raj808. Thank you.

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