Himself to My Selves (Eight Legs, Nine Worlds) (poem) by Ian Irvine (Hobson) on AuthorsDen

Himself to My Selves (Eight Legs, Nine Worlds)
by Ian Irvine (Hobson) → (All Poetry by Ian Irvine (Hobson))
Friday, November 8, 2019 Rated "G" by the Author.

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My grandparenst lived very close to one of the key (theorised) Odin sites in the UK - 'Roseberry Topping, near Guisbourough in North Yorkshire. They would take us for long walks from their nearby farm to the top of this imposing edifice named after Odin. I wonder now, in this poem, if something of that old deity rubbed off on me, because I recall becoming passionate about music for the first time in my life after one of those long afternoon walks ... [The Photo below is used under the "Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 Generic - license" and Chris O is acknowledged as the original up-loader to Wikipedia article on Roseberry Topping.]

Himself to My Selves (Eight legs, Nine worlds) Copyright Ian Irvine 2019, all rights reserved "They call me the swarthy one - Eight legs, nine worlds The tree becomes a horse Strange horse! Strange tree! I hung quiet as death For nine days, nine nights My warrior days were over. Hooded and missing an eye I learnt unmanly magic from A woman, brilliant and far-seeing. Traversed gloomy back-roads Through whispering forests Over future grieving plains, and up Mountains wounded by lightning. We talked. I talked to myself. Myself to myself, and hanging Accumulated knowledge and spoke With departed souls (cloaked And wearing a wide-brimmed hat). Two ravens, two wolves, one horse, Eight legs, nine worlds." "Eight selves and a god." He whispered to me year after year: "My self, to myself." He disagreed with Jung, "Christian and Bourgeoisie Apologist!' he declared, "In truth, My ecstasy is terrifying to Nazis." I listened: "Though I bless Some - such as yourself - With poetry and song ... it is a curse as much as a gift." His words had the ring of truth. "My curse - our curse - is to Sense each path to the end-time For gods and humans and worlds. I am no Alt Right nationalist! A country is not a universe, a self is not a monolithic entity: My furies protect the nine worlds, it is all I work for ... And so, a gift to you: The soul of your Enigma." The swarthy one Tips his wide-brimmed hat Brandishes his wand-stick-spear. And melody-haunted perpetrators sleep uneasily, dimly aware (perhaps), that they've angered a sullen God. How will they explain themselves to Odin explain themselves to Freyja?

Reviewed by m j hollingshead

Reviewed on November 12, 2019

compelling read filled with stark power

never stop writing

m

Reviewed by Ronald Hull

Reviewed on November 10, 2019

So good to see you posting again. I don't understand why others haven't commented. In this wide-ranging poem of myth and reality, I sense that you have disclosed some of your concerns for humanity and in the end, asked the question that I would also raise, not being a Christian. How would they explain themselves to Jesus?

Ron