I remember when I was little, watching a Making Of documentary about Robin of Sherwood . One of the points which the writer made was that each person who retells the Robin Hood legend adds a little something to the story. He introduced the idea of the occult – the Baron de Belleme in particular is a terrifying character – and this later influenced other Robin Hood adaptations, including the character of Mortianna in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves . You might be surprised to find that this blog is not actually about any version of Robin Hood. In fact, it’s about the TV series Merlin . That’s your recommended viewing for wet days during summer, if we have any rain ever again after this heatwave! I first came across Merlin when it was released in 2008. It was such a Big Deal that a trailer for the series was shown at the cinema when I went to watch Tropic Thunder with my older sister while living with her in Ipswich. I mostly just remember the dragon and thinking it looked ok. Some...
Continuing from last week's post which explored Artwork as Inspiration (the starting point for Proof of the Old Faith) I'm sticking with Norse culture. Here is The Weave of the Norns, a poem I wrote a few years ago about these three frightening women.
Enjoy!
The Norns by Arthur Rackham
Beneath the threat of utter doom
he sought them at their fabled loom.
The king searched on until he found
them on the morrow’s battleground.
The tallest worked the wheel alone;
the next, a shuttle made of bone;
the shortest bore a silver sword
with which she severed each loose cord.
What pattern spun these women three,
dictating mankind’s victory!
“I come to beg you demonstrate
a gentle weaving of our fate.”
“Then know you this, oh man of peace,
we weave the thread and cannot cease.”
“Weave us an ending to this war
and grant us threads of peace once more.”
“What cost would such a wise man pay
for us to change our weave this way?”
And now he saw the bloody thread,
time’s fabric dripping crimson red.
As though she took him in her hand
he felt her pull aside one strand.
“You have forgone your chance to leave.
Your life is foretold in the weave.”
The sword cut clear, the thread hung down,
the mediator lost his crown.
For Fate demands a sacrifice
to cast aside her weighted dice.
Comments
Post a Comment