Monday, 21 September 2020

Moon-Crowned Selene

Her beauty dances upon the tides
As she dances across the sky
The night is her kingdom
The moon is her crown
And as she sways across the heavens
Her silver glory is seen by all

© Nico Solheim-Davidson, 2020


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Thursday, 16 August 2018

War's Spirit

Within old Sparta
Bound by chains, forged of iron
The spirit of War

Vigilant, he stands
The wild bane of Olympus
Ares, Lord of War

Unrivalled in might
Death lies within his nature
With bloodthirst and war


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Sunday, 27 May 2018

Queen Of Hades

Draped in November skies,
Ashen meadows she leaves
In her amaranthine wake
As she ascends her Hadean throne
And adorned once again
With Death's primordial crown:
The Queen of Midwinter

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Tuesday, 10 April 2018

Gorgon


A beautiful maiden was she,
whom pledged herself to Athena,
With a celibate’s vow, as a Priestess,
And her heart, so full of joy

But the ocean’s Lord lusted for her,
And his advances she would deny,
Athena’s service she was within
And that oath, she would not betray

Then the fateful day would come,
When the Ocean’s Lord would claim,
With force and rage, that which was not his
Her innocence, her purity, violated

Soon Athena learned, of that grim crime,
that unhallowed her Temple grounds
Her fury, she would unleash, ever so vile
Upon her Priestess, so loyal

And so, the Priestess, once so beautiful,
Was morphed from maiden to Beast,
Snakes now grew, where her hair once was
And her legs, a python’s scaly body

Vilified for a crime, which hers was not,
From Athens, she fled, to lands distant
Sorrow took root in her heart
But soon to be replaced by venomous fury

Vengeance, she swore against Athena,
Against the Ocean’s Lord, and Olympus,
For her curse gave the means of revenge
“Hell hath no fury, like the Gorgon scorned!”


Gorgon is based on Ovid's version of Medusa's story, which can be found in his work, Metamorphoses (Book IV). This poem will also be featured in my upcoming book: She Set The Sky Ablaze.

Image source: quora.com.

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Monday, 1 January 2018

One Last Drink (Upon The Old Ship)


Nótt casts her cloak
As Sól turns to slumber
My life is lived, long and full,
But as my breath leaves
And ancestors welcome me,
Upon The Old Ship
Where laughter lives
And bards sing
One last drink, I'll have
'Til my horn is empty
And my soul is full
For upon The Old Ship
My memory shall remain
And now, I feast,
With ancestors evermore,
Upon The Old Ship
Have a drink for me!

This poem is dedicated to my favourite pub, The Old Ship Inn.

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Sunday, 5 November 2017

Mythology: Laima


Laima is one of the many figures that appears in Baltic mythology and appeared in both Latvia's and Lithuania's pre-Christian religions. She is regarded as a goddess of fate and fortune, and is associated with the linden tree. Another of Laima's functions was as the patron of pregnant women.

 In Latvian beliefs, Laima and her sisters, Karta and Dekla, were a trio of fate goddesses - a role similar to that of the Norse Norns and the Greek Moirai. In this role, Laima's functions and roles were more associated with mothers and child birth. Whereas in Lithuanian beliefs, Laima could appear as either one goddess or as a trio. She also had many functions and duties, one of the most important of these was to map out how a newborn's life would proceed.

Image source: Journeying To The Goddess.

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Friday, 20 October 2017

Arawn's Hunt


Samhain’s moon rises
And the wild hunt begins
Death’s king rides forth
With blood red hounds
From Annwn they flee
Souls of the ever-damned

Arawn's Hunt is based on the stories of Arawn in Welsh mythology. The tale that I based this poem on says that Arawn, king of the Otherworld, would hunt souls down during in the time of Samhain should they ever flee from Annwn. 
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Gowdie


Bonnie Isobel
Of Gaelic blood
By Hecate's grace
And Liltih's hand
Black arts she claimed
From woman to hare
Under night's veil
She would go
With sorrow and care
'Til home she came again

Gowdie is a piece inspired by the story of Isobel Gowdie, a Scottish woman accused of witchcraft. There is little information of her life and no record of her ever being executed. 


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Thursday, 8 June 2017

Amber Tears


Across storm-ridden waves

Her sorrowed voice echoes
Where the crest meets the shore
Her ambers tear crown the strand
Evermore, her love, she mourns

Amber Tears is taken from my upcoming book, She Set The Sky Ablaze, and is loosely based on the story of Jurate and Kastytis. There are various versions of the story but the basics remain intact. 

The tale goes that the Goddess (sometimes a mermaid) Jurate lived in an amber castle within the Baltic Sea and ruled over all the sea life, as well as the sea itself. A young fisherman, Kastytis, disturbs the peace by catching all the fish. Jurate, whom is understandably upset by this, decides to punish him. However, upon seeing him, she falls in love with him.

Perkunas, the Lithuanian thunder god, finds out about this love affair between the divine Jurate and the mortal Kastytis, and in his rage, strikes the amber castle (or Kastytis, depending on the version of the tale).

In the versions where Perkunas strikes the castle, it explodes into a million pieces, which is why amber is found on the shore. In the versions where Kastytis is struck down, Jurate is said to weep tears of amber, which are washed ashore, and her sad voice can be heard during storms on the Baltic Sea as she mourns him to this day.

Image source: BalticNord Blogger.

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Friday, 2 June 2017

Queen Egle


With no thought for consequence
In folly, she pledged her hand
To the serpentine of human tongue
So her clothing, she could reclaim

But Saule thrice rose and fell
Before the slithering legion came
To claim the maiden, young Egle
For their Prince ‘neath the tides

Yet the Ophidian Prince
Stood not as a serpentine
But as a man, of vast beauty
And her husband, he would be

Three sons and a daughter
She bore him, their fated storm
For one would betray her
When blood meets with kin

Her kin, Egle wished to see,
But her wishes, the Prince denied
Lest three feats, ever hopeless
She could replete in full

But with a Sorcerer’s aid
Iron boots, she wore down
The endless silky tuft, she spun
And a pie baked without the means

Her family, long lost, bright to see her
But to the sea, in the west,
her return, they bequested not
And a guileful plot they made

To lure Egle’s Prince to land,
Her three sons, briskly, they lashed
But his secret, not theirs to say
And in dread, the girl spoke all

And when the butchery did wane
To her fallen Prince, Egle called
Athwart the Western tides
Greeted only by sanguine fluid

With hope dashed, anguish rose
Ash, Oak and Birch, her sons became
And the daughter, an aspen shaking
So after, as a spruce, Egle stood

Queen Egle is set to appear in my upcoming book, She Set The Sky Ablaze, and is my interpretation of the popular Lithuanian myth that follows Egle, a young lady who one day after bathing with her sisters finds that a snake has hid in her clothes. In order to get her clothes back, she agrees to marry the snake. After three days, a large amount of snakes come to take Egle to her future husband but her family successfully trick the snakes for so long until a cuckoo tells the snakes of the deceit.

Egle is surprised to see that her husband is a man and not a snake, and eventually, in their home under the sea, bears four children to him. She asks to visit her family one day, but her husband won't allow it unless she wears down a pair of iron boots, spins an endless tuft of silk and bakes a pie without any utensils. Egle manages to do this with advice from a sorcerer. 

Her family are delighted to see Egle and her children, but they don't want them to return to the sea. So, they beat her three sons to find out how to trick Egle's husband onto land but it's the daughter that reveals how to do so. Egle's twelve brothers slay her husband with scythes.

Egle is worried and calls for her husband on the shore but is only greeted by tides that are foaming red. In her sorrow and rage, she turns her sons into an Ash tree, an Oak tree and a Birch tree. She turns her daughter into a quaking Aspen and finally herself into a Spruce.  

Image source: Europe Is Not Dead.

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