Guardians of Worlds

Four guardians sit at the gates of worlds,
Who know far more than they know,
Some sit, some stand, some rest beneath,
Their past are lost in the mist.

There is one who rests in the cold north wind,
Who was once a giantess of renown,
No name we know or when she was born,
But she was ancient ere man was born.

There is one who stands in the wind of the east,
Where the rainbow bridge does rest,
A horn to blow, a sword to swing,
And his parents do no one know.

There is one who stands in the hot south wind,
On the edge of the fiery plains,
Wait he does for the end of time,
When he’ll march with a fire storm.

There is one who sits by a well, in the western wind,
Three daughters he had, three wells once known,
Nine mothers are known but a father has none,
And his sons shall be well known.

Down the Helway some will come,
To call of the cold north wind,
To rise from the grave and tell the old tell,
Of what will someday come.

The shining one at the rainbow bright,
The east wind does stand guard,
Before the bright city a city or brass,
Where they drink and laugh and flirt.

On the southern plains where fire rages,
And all the plains are ablaze,
the hot south with with a sword in hand,
Waits for the sun to set.

Heads will roll and then speak again,
With the voice of the wise west wind,
A sip from the well that will cost you an eye,
On the edge of the cold ice plain.

Four winds are blowing and will come again,
For compass will ever turn,
Their pasts are obscure and their futures ignored,
And few are there left you see.

Four guardians sit at the gates of worlds,
Who know far more than they know,
Some sit, some stand, some rest beneath,
Their past are lost in the mist.

~Muninn’s Kiss, February 21, 2014


Watching the Sunrise Fade

I sit here, watching the sunrise fade to night,
Remembering, forgetting, remembering,
Remembering my childhood in the twilight of the gods,
The Destroyer raging across the land,
Remembering my teenage years in afternoon of the world,
As the glory of man faded, threatening to go out,
Remembering my early adult years in at high noon,
When man’s empires spanned the world,
Rising and falling and rising again,
I remember by middle years in the morning of the world,
As man learned to walk, to run, to farm,
And here I sit an old man, as the sunrise fades to night,
Remembering, forgetting, remembering,
The evening darkness lit as the sun sank and dusk came,
Brighter and hotter it got, as high noon approached,
And colder again as the sun rose from dawn,
Bringing me back here, to the first light, fading to night,
The cold winter warming as leaves rose to the trees,
Then turned from brown to yellow to green,
The crops fading from golden to bright green,
As they grew downward back toward the ground,
And the summer heat fading into spring,
The plants shrinking to buds, then sprouts, then barren ground,
As spring fades now back into winter,
As I sit, watching the sunrise fade to night,
Remembering, forgetting, remembering.
~Muninn’s Kiss, January 21, 2014, with a nod to T.H. White and Luke Bryan

I Was Crom Dubh Once

I was Crom Dubh once,
Buried in the mound,
I was the Dagda once,
My club across the land,
I was Bran the Blessed once,
My head beneath the hill,
I was Kronos once,
My stone sickle in the sky,
I was Osiris once,
My body across the land,
I was Odin once,
Ygg was I once,
Ere that I was Thund,
Who am I?
~Muninn’s Kiss, January, 4, 2014

The Crossroads of Life and Death

I hap’ed to meet Death once,
Along the Shining road,
I was going up it,
And he back down again,
Top o’ the mornin’ to ya,
I cheerfully put forth,
And the rest of the day to thee,
Came his grim reply,
I asked him how his business went,
If it was going well,
He answered it was booming,
Almost too much for him to do,
He asked me about the gleaming courts,
And if life there was good,
And answered as good as ever,
Though few notice none,
We chatted a bit and gossiped,
Shared a drink of whiskey strong,
Then both went on upon our ways,
Him down and me on up.
~Muninn’s Kiss, January 2, 2014


In the darkness, something moves,
A thing of horns and teeth,
Our dreams, our fears, the things we know,
But try hard to forget,
It stalks the night in Winter’s chill,
It goes from house to house,
It knows the secret fears and dreams,
It knows what we try to hide,
It knows when we are sleeping,
It knows when we’re awake,
It knows knows if we’ve been good or bad,
And feeds our secret fears,
Black hooves in snow it treads upon,
Black wool of grease and oil,
Horns stand out like a wicked crown,
And teeth a wicked grin,
In the darkness, something moves,
A thing of horns and teeth,
Our dreams, our fears, the things we know,
But try hard to forget.
~Muninn’s Kiss, December 29, 2013


The Calling of Snow Shrouded Hills

On snow shrouded hills,
In bright sun light,
They dance like mites,
And spin like dancers,
White showers in circles,
Dust devils of snow,
Moving and spinning,
They catch the eye,
Round and round,
A play of wind,
Glittering and shining,
The sun’s bright light,
Over and over,
And back and forth,
Like snow faeries dancing,
And calling you forth,
Winter’s bright spritelings,
Like willow-the-wisps,
Those who follow,
Might never return,
‘Cross snow shrouded hills,
And cold shadows dales,
Right out of the Dreaming,
And into the Veil,
Lost to this world,
And all they have known,
‘Neath snow shrouded hills,
That the faeries call home,
Ever wandering forever,
In a land not quite home,
Forever living,
And never alone,
Onward and inward,
‘Cross cold shadowed dales,
And snow shrouded hills.

~Muninn’s Kiss, December 8, 2013

Red Cock and Bloody Hound

A red cock crows,
A bloody hound howls,
Their mistress awakes at dawn,
Comely is she,
A gorgeous bride,
When viewed from one side,
But turning around,
A hideous face,
Like a corpse that has rotted through,
Up she rises,
From the bed,
That is called by the name of Disease,
Through the Gleaming Bale,
She rises and stretches,
And dresses to meet the throng,
On her hip she straps,
Great Famine her knife,
And through the halls of Sleet-Cold she walks,
The people they rise,
And the gods there asleep,
And each takes up a great sword,
The the threshold they go,
The Pit of Stumbling,
And follow their mistress’s call.
The time has come,
The dead arise,
And march along the Hel-Way.

~Muninn’s Kiss, December 7, 2013