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~ By Courtesy of Others ~

After The Ashen Spear


My time is done, I know Iíll not

Ever see my land again,

And my flesh shall surely rot

In this Wod forsaken spot

Where battle dead are left, forgot.


Those not yet born shall walk around

And see these hills where battle raged

They shall not ween that underground

Lie heads that once with awe-helm crowned

Now lay unknown, unnamed, unfound.


Yet, bone on bone in scrambled heap

We lie in masses here and there

Skulls on kinsmenís skulls we sleep

Ribs enmeshed we ever keep

Our frithful friendships in the deep.


© Juleigh Howard-Hobson

Sommer & Other Poems by Juleigh Howard-Hobson. 
A limited edition formalist-heathen poetry chapbook, available through RavensHalla Arts (ravenshalla@yahoo.com)

Image: © John Howe, www.john-howe.com, used by permission.

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