They May Fight On The Clouds Poem by Mark Heathcote

They may fight on the clouds riding horseback.
They may turn the rivers red with blood.
But Odin, the god of poets, the god of war
With his band of female handmaiden warriors
His Valkyries, he will not give anyone room.
Except for those few, his choosers of the slain
And the slain will then be carried to Valhalla,
As heroes to once more live immortally again

They may fight on the field of battle valiantly.
They may even sing of victories fairly won.
But Odin, the god of poets, the god of war
He will throw his spear again and again.
While riding his eight-legged horse, Sleipnir,
And his spear will hit its mark and sink
Into the hearts of beasts like a venomous snake.
And no doubt his victims will undoubtedly fall.

But Odin, the god of war, the god of the dead
And the hall of the slain he will use his knowledge,
His sorcery to defeat those who won't kneel,
Bow before his royal feet. Wisdom is his alone.
After bartering his sight for a far greater insight
Those who don't agree will swing from the gallows.
They may fight on the clouds riding horseback.
They may turn the rivers red with bubbling blood.

But Odin, the god of poets, the god of war
Today, he alone knows what's truly in store.
With his band of female warrior handmaidens
He will cut the beast of the field down to straw.
With a party of airborne horsemen accompanied
By ravens and owls, the Wild Hunt is upon us.
And all are sent scurrying like a fleeing whore.
Back to the places where sleep's a wild pagan boar.

The Wild Hunt of Odin by
Peter Nicolai Arbo: Ekphrastic Writing Challenge

12/20/2024