Franc Rodriguez

Bite Of The Apple Of Idunn - Poem by Franc Rodriguez

A deadly curse began to flit upon the clans,
and the clansmen with such a swift wrath.
It came from beyond the dales and the thorps,
making the striplings grow hoary and old.
They were bereaved of youth and their werd,
was becoming dark and bleak amid their path.
The sundry athelings fell to its amansed grasp,
and the riddle would start to unfold.
With a dearth of answers the elders gathered,
the eight to seek to unravel the blinding dern.
A ruthless slough betided on the striplings,
who hitherto were quickly dying amain.
The curse had spread and it reached the clans,
and the frith amongst the kingdoms was torn.
It was to be an illness so sallow and a hardship,
which left the earm bairns to writhe in pain.
And the wise elders told the bold athelings that,
the goddess Idunn could break this weary spell.
They chose amongst the brave-hearted drengs,
who had yet not fallen under the spell of death.
Yeomanly men to behove and as well to bear,
the wathe and the seers could foretell.
Into the hidden world of Idunn they were sent,
for only she could stop the threat of its growth.
They yode upon the swales till the hidden abode,
was reached of the goddess of everlastingness.
A dreadful draught wafted upon the warriors,
as they stood amongst the trees of the weald.
Thenceforth the boughs of the trees began,
to judder and sprawl with a brath starkness.
The draught became a howling wind that,
began to soothe as it dwealde.
A whispering reard was heard bewildering,
through the whistling wind nigh.
It stifled the kinsmen and bewitched them,
in the grip of the spell of a cunning goddess.
In the midst of the trees was a lovely woman,
with an odd hinderyeap sigh.
But to the men she was an unwonted maiden,
who wheedled them with sheen and blindness.
And before them to be seen by all in her hands,
were four apples of otherguess hues.
Among the hues were green, yellow, red, gold,
but yet only one was to be the apple of youth.
The apples were either to bring glee on the wer,
or to bring a mickle of woes.
Four men were chosen among the men to wale,
the first chose the yellow the apple of death.
He wallowed in the depth of the yellow bane,
and fell to the ground wan and stiff.
The next choose the red and burned in the fire,
thus the green and golden apple were only left.
A brazen atheling by the name of Guthmundr,
then would unravel the bluff.
And he chose the green apple and it was to be,
a boon that was foretold by the elder’s craft.
Idunn dwined into the mist and the warriors,
yode to the clans and the bairns were healed.
There was glee seen betwixt the mighty clans,
and the kingdoms amidst their swoon.
The frith of the clans only lasted for a while,
for the Gods were not to be beguiled.
And the elders would tell an old tale of wonder,
and the bite of the apple of Idunn.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 18, 2013

Poem Edited: Thursday, April 18, 2013

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