The Saga of Conn the Dark-hearted

An epic poem in the style of the old anglo-saxon or viking sagas.

Long have I stood, watching the trees,

The Skies ever-changing, the grass around my toes,

Living and ever-living, undying

The Voice of the Ages.

I tell the story of Men,

Of the sons and daughters of men,

Some long forgotten, others etched in stone.

I am the song of the breeze

Amongst the waving meadowsweet.

I am the voice of the heart unsung,

The harp unstrung, the plan undone.

Three songs have I sung in ancient times:

The song of the battle on the plains of blood,

Where men stood, died and stood again;

The song of the long-armed and the silver king,

When the champion's cup was passed around;

The song of the Hound, the Hound from the North,

With chariots thundering in a cloud of dust.

These songs have I sung, yet more are to be.

The tale of Conn, thrice renowned;

Conn the Black, with heart pure as thistledown,

Son of Donan, son of Crom the Red,

A tale that grew in the telling,

Told by the bards that tasted the blood

Spraying like spittle from dying heroes.

Author's Note

Does it feel like one of the old sagas? Would it make you want to read more? Is the imagery string? Do you like it?

Reviews

[Pushkar Prabhat]

WoW!!!
this does feel like an old saga..........yep i would have read more........the imagery is good............yes i liked it!!!
Beautifully crafted........masterfully written..........
i loved it!!!
:)

[Gareth C.]

Thank you Pushkar, I hope the Muse grabs me again!

[Pushkar Prabhat]

you are welcome........i will pray that that happens.............!!! :) :)