FanPost

Voluspa--A Poetic Elegy for the Mighty Oden

The Voluspa is an ancient Norse creationist/apocalyptic poem, which seems an appropriate reference given the situation and even the name--Oden--which of course reminds one of the Norse god Odin, father of Thor. Herewith, my Voluspa for Greg. Hope you enjoy the culture infusion, like a good cup of Greek yogurt...

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From Naismith's sons both high and low

relate the tales of giants old

who gave bread in days of yore

One title known, and spoken fond

beneath mildew, mold and spore

'Tween fiery mountains of the sea

and mountains white with sleep

having burned out long before

The giants came to lay their claim

and break down glory's door

The writings speak of triumph

of forest laurels sharing green

with envied faces by the score

of Woltan's back and Captain Jack

but just one year, and nevermore

Then dark the skies became

and rain upon the land

from heavn'ly barrels pour'd

lesser sons prevailed amongst the gloom

churlish, preening scurvy boors

Indolence and indulgence ruled

the souls at aerie's height

fortune's sons as haughty lords

The laurels trampled; deaf to reason

were the trampling sons implored

Tales in this night, they did propound

of purple progress on the lake

and crashing shoals as heretofore

Despondently the elders braced

hoping still for glory's time restored

Then from the aged paths of time

rose a savior in the East

brimming references galore

a wrinkled brow, a loping gait

and mighty stance--like Woltan's Thor

The one called Oden had arrived

and spread the faith to all

of death to darkened times abhorred

and quaffs from victory's cup

the newest guest through fortune's door

The people cheered and wept and knelt

offered gifts of flesh and fame

shyly taken by the giant moor

and music rang, hosannahs sung

to mark the gathering rapport

But those most wise at telling tales

could not but caution into ears

the prior tragics gone before

Whispered "Bowie!" "MJ"

"Not to mention, Walt Gilmore!"

The people heard, but did not heed

and showed the tellers scorn

disregarding of their chore

but history's pages do not rend

as mighty Oden's knees grew sore

"No, it can't! It couldn't be!"

they moaned into their beers

from castles to the Bull and Boar

and holding hope but fearing worst

awaited word from the doc-tor

Of course the news, a cut unkind

sent shockwaves through the land

from the mountains to the shore

broke it once, then did it twice

and yet again as sadness's encore

The mood grew ugly, some drew wrath

and booing outsized visions of his face

did cast fair Oden to torpor

a castaway not passed away

not here not ever, somewhere else it isn't sure

In time the orange ball shall rise

clearing foggy mists remained

while hearts and minds sneak looks afore

but clinging fondly to the days

when mighty Oden owned the floor

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