A thousand years buried black beneath king’s
mound; ribs, timbers rotting, our ship—
oarsmen long fallen, scattered like their gold
Bread, beer, sword—but never enough gold
in blood-spattered piles, enough to make us kings
so bold and glory-lusting we fitted our ship
shields hung out, oars locked in, then how our ship
sang the waves toward the sun’s own gold—
land ripe for plunder and death to their kings!
All now ghosts: gold, kings, and ship…
Imagination fired by a field trip last weekend to see the Viking ship, sailed from Norway to Chicago in 1893 for the World’s Columbian Exposition and now residing in Geneva, Illinois. Viking was modeled on the 9th-century Gokstad ship, excavated in 1880.
Ah, this makes me want to break out Beowulf. Lovely writing.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Beowulf, yes! And thank you. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love the rhythm of this–like being at sea–with all the ghosts, which you know, I would also imagine. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I always think of you when I get all historical 😀
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for that, Jennifer. 🙂
LikeLike
You do such a beautiful job of evoking the spirit of these old days. Such a strength in your work.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. I think I’m just steeped in these kinds of stories. 🙂
LikeLike