Norsemen’s Raid Of Lindisfarne

Auben crown of braids, shimmering, o’er his woad, war-painted face 

That has seen afore... battles of vicious foe 

Etched deep with furrowed scars, aged weathered mud mask, lattice of lace  

Blue piercing eyes of steel that still, trauma tows

Stands proud on Langskip, at longship’s bow, perusing all at sea   

Carved dragon head snarls, serpentine coil o’er prow 

Carmine and alabaster sails of blood and bone... billow free    

Decks flood, precariously, as ocean’s ploughed  

Around his neck Thor’s hammer hangs to shield his warrior’s soul

Glints, pride of place, ‘neath Freyr’s gossamer bright beams

Coveting a brave death; to him like siren Valhalla calls

Sanguinary destiny... for him it’d seem 

Charging forth through equine waves on oceans of aquamarine 

Through torrents of tears, as Rán nets drowned, deceased

Sky sinks its weary blush head, sun bleeding out upon sea’s sheen 

Thor’s thunder claps, o’re head, as clouds they crease 

Velvet night draws in, twinkling jewels... signposting him to war 

‘neath Loki dances ‘pon mast, summons... Slepnir 

In jet black sky, shooting stars; or is it Odin’s steed, afar

Come to lead the raid as emerald shores grow near   

At last, Isle of Lindisfarne (Holy Island) comes into sight 

Landing ransacking siege, ripped book from gemmed sheath 

Plundering Priory’s gold, leaving sole scholar to scribe plight

Illuminate gospels, spared... St Cuthbert’s creed    

So although Norsemen came and went, the manuscript stayed in tact 

Book’s gilt case that was seized, wasn’t treasure you see

T’was fine scriptures of insular art, that lay within... in fact 

Sadly literature, bar runes, Vikings lacked.  

© Debbie Razey 2019 - Violet Moon Poetry

Doom’s Excalibur

Over the cobbled streets of doom I tread

Even though I’ve still not got out of bed

You see doom lurks, bewitching in my head

And off my anxiety it is fed

Turning cobbles to paths of molten coals 

Sucks my dreams and passions into black holes

Changing faces of friends to that of foes 

Blotting out joy and blinding me with woes 

You see doom eats away at who I am

It tells me I can’t... even when I can 

I fight it back but then it floors me, WHAM!

For my family it cares not a damn

Gratitude’s a weapon I hear it told

Stronger in loves sacred circle, twofold 

Like Excalibur... it’s magic of old

But it takes strength to keep within your hold

So as the mist of doom rises once more

I’ll count blessings, draw curtains... bar the door

With my new found courage let out in roar 

This incantation’s chant of old lore 

“I am good enough just the way I am 

  I can do anything... oh yes I can

  I’ll conquer my fears and defeat ill thoughts

  I’ll learn to love myself... just like I ought” 

© Debbie Razey 2019 - Violet Moon Poetry

Peace Stealer (Chronic Illness)

  

When your loved one’s dying at your hospital bed 

And what once was love feels more like resentment instead

When the pain is too raw so you retreat and feel numb 

When you want to live but fear you're already dead 

When your skin craves warmth but just can't handle the sun

And when your food won't stay down yet you still weigh a tonne

When you hate your reflection but you need from it more! 

When you crave adventure but are too tired for fun

Would to close be to open another Hell’s door

And would I still feel I'm falling if I lie on floor

Would I do things differently?!? To get same outcome????

Would I love less intensely so to feel less sore 

All I know it's a spectrum, different sides, same coin

So if I'd lived oppositely we'd still be adjoined 

All our words, choices and actions, add up to soul's sum 

Self worth’s not just good health... from illness peace is purloined 

© Debbie Razey 2019 - Violet Moon Poetry

Red

Crimson drops on porcelain tiles

Tear stained tracks she rode on for miles

Conjuring nightmares stole her days

He left and yet the darkness stayed 

The sparks they gave did not ignite 

An inward peace which was her plight 

Pills, though many, would not oblige

To cease the moon caught in her eyes 

Negatives of what might have been 

Hued tragic Shakespearean scene 

In crawlspace she once more retreats 

Red stretcher glides... snow underneath

Half became whole, two became one 

Ripped apart, their lament lives on

Empty locked box where grid was found

Gave world her words... left without sound 

© Debbie Razey 2019 - Violet Moon Poetry

Relief

Sadness... the rabid dog; rages within

Chewing raw nerve ends and spitting out dreams

Ripping tender flesh off hope’s fragile skin

Leaving gaping need with jagged frayed seams

Wanting... taunts at anxiety’s repose

Silence’s dissonance splutters and chokes

Sanity fractures through regret’s flogged throws 

Replaying traumas which can’t be revoked 

Apathy, hangs in the mind, drips and bleeds

Depression’s rope tight, yet still I breathe 

Pooling despair, drowns and offers mercy 

Suicide’s cool whisper... a welcome relief 

© Debbie Razey 2019 - Violet Moon Poetry

‘Twas But A Twinkle

‘Twas but a twinkle that was ne’er to shine 

Blessing only found when all hope was gone 

Dream left unspoken is now but a shrine  

Would have been proud to hold you, bairn of mine 

Tune without lyrics is not called a song 

‘Twas but a twinkle that was ne’er to shine 

Suspended somewhere in grief’s soured time

Forever wondering what I did wrong 

Dream left unspoken is now but a shrine

Boy, girl... left unknowing feels like a crime 

Your name ne’er whispered from tip of my tongue

‘Twas but a twinkle that was ne’er to shine 

Still I daydream of our would-have-been time

Although unplanned... for you I do so long  

‘Twas but a twinkle that was ne’er to shine 

Dream left unspoken is now but a shrine  

© Debbie Razey 2019 - Violet Moon Poetry

We

Wanting forever before we’ve begun 

Telling our story with each breath of our lungs 

Painting a picture of how it will be 

Pinning down our winged-tipped love for all to see

Miles evaporated... enmeshed quantumly  

Never once questioning if we’re meant to be 

Naively believing in “forever young” 

Now testing the strength of how we are strung 

Dreams remain unrealised, left unsung 

Promises once witnessed to which we have  clung

Yet still across the stars we scribe; “you and me” 

Beguiled by love, bound, unwavering... are we 

© Debbie Razey 2019 - Violet Moon Poetry