The Hammer of Thor

I used to think that thunder was

The sound of the Hammer, Thor,

He’d beat it up on the clouds above

Each time he was waging war,

He’d quell his foes with a lightning strike

Or drown them all in his rain,

Whenever he came along at night

His purpose was always pain.

 

For we lived down in the valley where

The tendency was to flood,

Whenever the river was swollen with

A squirt of his enemy’s blood,

We’d have to climb up to higher ground

And sit there, soaked to the skin,

With lightning flashing around our heads

We’d need to pay for our sins.

 

‘Pay for our sins,’ my father said

In a voice that rumbled and roared,

He’d pull a hood up over his head

And speak to the god called Thor,

Then Thor replied with a mighty blast

To drown out my father’s cries,

As if he answered him there at last,

‘All that you speak are lies!’

 

While mother sat in a silent weep

As often she’d done before,

‘Why did you have to build our house

Way down on the valley floor?

We would have been safer, further up

And still walk down to the stream,

To carry a bucket of water up,

But all that you do is dream!’

 

That was his sin, my mother said,

He didn’t know black from white,

He never looked far enough ahead

He didn’t know wrong from right,

Dreaming up schemes that failed, it seems

Like a prophet, living in dread,

That one black night at the river’s height

We’d all be drowned in our bed.

 

‘Not that his bed means much to him,’

My mother would often moan,

‘Not since that gypsy girl, that Kym

Stayed in the valley alone,

He spends his time in her caravan

Drinking her gypsy tea,

And letting her hold and read his hand,

He never did that with me!’

 

And so it was on a cold, black night

He’d gone to her caravan,

‘Just to check that she’ll be all right,’

He said, just playing the man,

The thunder crashed on the mountain top

While we prayed, and gave up thanks,

To the mighty Thor beating at our door

That the river not break its banks.

 

Lightning flashed though the vale of trees

Where she’d parked her gypsy van,

And then my mother was on her knees

As we heard a mighty bang,

For lightning struck at the heart of sin

And it set the van ablaze,

While both the sinners were trapped within

And paid for their sinful ways.

 

We buried him on the valley floor

For my mother said, ‘It’s right.

He doesn’t deserve a headstone

Nor a grave that’s watertight.’

Whenever the god of thunder calls

And the river overflows,

I think of my father down below

And I wonder if he knows.

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A amazing story my writer friend.
"Dreaming up schemes that failed, it seems
Like a prophet, living in dread,
That one black night at the river’s height
We’d all be drowned in our bed."
You had my favorites places and topics. Myth, Gypsy and lesson. Thank you for sharing the outstanding poetry. All of us will reach our due-ending.
Coyote

[TL Boehm]

What a tale you've spun - karmic resonance delivered by the might of Thor - not deserving a watertight grave. That's a somber thought.

[TPK Stories]

I'm not much into mythology but your poem makes me think maybe I should read it sometime. Great work David.

[R Smith]

that's the trouble with that Thor guy he just keeps striking us with his hammer, a mighty tale of celestial retribution on these woeful sinners, guess i won't be visiting that caravan again haha, a big story here David, the wrath of the Vikings well done :)

[Valentine]

This is really well written. I enjoyed it from beginning to the end. One of your best. Valentine

[Marie]

Well, THor knows how to get things done, I must say. I've always admired him.
When I saw the title of this poem I was reminded of a story by G.K. Chesterton. He wrote of a crushing blow that seemed to come out of nowhere. Of course, Father Brown solved that case...

[ANTO]

Better to have a one to one relationship with God than rely on others to plead your case - this reminded me of the recent pedophile (within the clergy) scandals David. How those involved used to berate the congregation every Sunday from the pulpit and all the while doing their dastardly deeds.
I love the Norse myth references - Valhalla was very familiar to me as a child (favourite was the imp Loki) - hours in the local library immersed. You recalled halcyon days my good friend.

[Lady Lola]

What a beautiful piece, you keep astonishing me with your poems, making me think. Nothing is ever black and white in your work -- just as in life. "The Hammer of Thor" has a wonderful flow and the atmosphere is intense. The biggest sinner cries for others to repent, classic... I really enjoyed the touch of Norse mythology.

[Vishuddha]

Wonderful poem. Mother sounds a bit vindictive. After all, Thor had a wife and a lover. Sin for us but not for him? Someone must have been goading him on. Maybe his wife.

[Barbz]

There is quite a message in this poem, and a loud one at that. The Hammer of Thor drowned out the roar of the fathers cries, that he is getting paid for his sins and lies......and, indeed, he did. Unfortunately, at times the whole family suffers for the sins of the father. In this case, both the father and the Gypsy woman received their due. Too often, we have all seen this to be true. Very well done, DLP, as usual...Barbz