Archive for November, 2014

November 20, 2014

The Nine Realms – Asgard: ‘Warriors and Ravens’

Asgard: ‘Warriors and Ravens’ 2/4′ The Nine Realms- Poems and Writing.


they never said

dying is travelling

a light-year in a second

completely alone,

in a sense you have never felt before

not in dreams or worship

or bleak nights.


I was part of the writhing mass

the storming spreading attack

part of the dance between me and that

man that other warrior that superior clan

I was part of that

company, closer than everything

and when I look back

his face was the face of my wife.


did he look away out of shame

for my weakness, shame

for his own life, shame

for how tenderly my body leaned to his blade.


here is the look of oil on water

like heaven’s reflection you can touch.

as a child I chased rainbows

made idols from glass refractions,

stooped in the road.


I see thickly, this space shimmers with moving light

violet edging faces I know

and I mourn my rainbow

revising memories of blood

the sun, fresh leaves, and sky,

pure darkness, and white light of ash

and I weep clear tears

laced with the pigments of the dead.


they never said it’s just like living,

seeing one colour

and searching for your own heartbeat.

and when you go it’s more like

everybody you’ve known is falling

away, leaving you to grieve in morbid hope that they

would not, that they would stay.


November 9, 2014

Week 0

Annie woke up with a mouth of sour grey and the heaving of something that was nearly forgotten, nearly, then forgotten. It was a worm burrowing in her abdomen and hardening and her head was something apart. Her feet fell out of cold bed and found yesterday’s tights and she followed with right hand, and control-flopped to the floor by the glass of water Reuben left last time he stayed. She took a sip and it tasted like more air and glass than water. She opened her mouth and sighed out, dragged the weight of her body up, up, and flowed the course to the bathroom.

Before she left she took the three days old glass down to the kitchen, placed behind yesterday’s dishes. Mum gently pried, reminded, kissed, byed. The unremembered feeling didn’t leave so in Lit she argued about the bough of cherries in My Last Duchess and avoided the crowd of common room Poker. Reuben told her that he woke like he’d fallen, jolted, and said he’d heard that when you sleep your body is on another plane, so when you wake with a start, it’s your spirit re-jumping you. They sat on the grass both heavy and quiet, and later she went back to his (mum out) and they watched a film she wouldn’t remember.

He kissed her cheek, eyes, lips, and they laid on his single bed and his lips brushed the short hair on the back of her head. Her arms had goosebumps, so he dragged the quilt from underneath and half covered her. She stayed like a figurine to keep under her side of the S-shape cross-cut their embrace made.

An hour and a half of stillness meant that she needed to go home so rose cold and kissed him and tomorrow tomorrow soonsoonsoon Reuby, the feeling fluttered like rain falling in the silhouette she saw of herself as she walked along the flat stones home.

© Lydia Allison 2013