.

Many Rooms, Many Words

By: Piparskeggr

 Health and Luck All,

This Hall is such a wonderful place for Thought Hoard increase.

The current exchange on Poetic Significance (for That Is The Matter, I think), reminds me of past discussions.

I think that something my Asatru Fellows have NOT Reawakened to in large is Poetic Significance.

I will be forever grateful to Garman Cyning and his folk for showing me this and enabling me to Learn.

My first efforts were pretty rough, but I did find my own voice and rhythm.

I should like to gently remind my friend, the good Theodish King, that there are one or two of we Asafolk who are catching on...

A poem I wrote to the Asatru_N_Action list, responding to a similar thread to this in the Outer Hall.

Many Rooms, Many Words - 17 Haymoon 2251 RE -

The Hall of Words, a hallowed place,
For in it lies, the Mind of Man.
Its many rooms, a sign of depth,
From wisdom fair, to darkest slur

The rooms we ought, to visit most,
Are good and clean, and bright of wit.
They do contain, some sorrow too,
Untempered thus, wise words fall flat

The middling rooms, most numerous,
Common chatter, they do contain,
Everyday words, of joy and thought
Mother's greeting, to workman's joke

Dark, noisome nooks, some visit too,
Where venom drips, and burns the floor.
But hardened hearts, find drink of choice
And have no care, of hurtful tongue.

The Hall has grown, from small, rude cave
From early man's, gestures and grunts
This need to talk, sets us alone
From other beasts, who have no art

And Man has grown, since dawn of time
Has spread across, Midgarth's full girth
From small first clan, to full extent
Of many tribes, and tongues of voice

And in these tongues, are sacral words
Which tell of Gods, and wonder deeds
Of birth and death, growth and decay
Life's small joys, and Folkway tales

Full rich are we, in Mannish tongues
Some word hoards large, others compact
But all contain, their Tribe's true heart
And with skilled use, their Wordsworth give

Some better lend, swift wings to thought
And Elder Tongues, may seem the best
To gather in, our sacral strength
For concepts old, which new forget

With loving use, and foster words
New Mannish tongues, can sacral be
Our minds are large, can new rooms build
This is our Gift, This is our Gain

The Hall of Words, a hallowed place,
For in it lies, the Mind of Man.
Its many rooms, a sign of depth,
From wisdom fair, to darkest slur

Find your voice folks; we live in Saga times.

Be well -

Pip