"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

The death of the Hound of Ulster

Day Two: Write a poem based on myth - but not Greek or Roman. I chose CĂșchulainn, a hero of Irish mythology.

Conspirators abound, and their history
ties their black hearts together.
But who could blame them? Stories say
that the object of their vengeance
has no heart at all - they say he is
the embodiment of hell itself,
of a nature so driven by bloodlust
that his frenzy renders him a monster,
an artist of violence and rage.

Wood is tipped with iron, and each
is thrown with furious adrenaline,
born in the hatred of a pained heart.
The raven flies overhead, and observes
the advance of death upon the warrior,
a man alone at the fall - and when he
ties himself standing, the only honor left,
the blight of a bird alights on him,
and his enemies know he is truly dead.

Quick Links - to poetry, of course.

Leonard P. Wilson has jumped on the NaPoWriMo train, as well.

Zach has another excellent short poem.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Bombay Bicycle Club, Ivory & Gold

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