Thor, the Norse God of Thunder, had a hammer named Mjölnir. Mjölnir was considered a fierce weapon that could level mountains and summon lightning with every blow. In this poetry blog, every Thursday, (Thor’s Day), Mjölnir will forge only song - sing of the mysteries and beauties of the world.

Thursday, October 9, 2014


You can say 
I don’t do that.
I don’t know how.
I'm not...whatever
you think your not.
But that only incenses them,
causes them to conspire 
more fiercely against you.
Or for you, actually.
Their will is like a pulley,
a block and tackle.

You see, it's nothing
for them - let’s call them spirits -
to take a carpenter and turn him into a crooner,
or make a seaman a rhyming mariner
or replace the crone’s rancor with a wry smile.

If they can work this magic
then why couldn't they, wouldn’t they 
give you a purpose
you didn’t know you needed.

It may enter you like a sliver, quick.
Or surprise you like a sucker punch.

Whichever it is,
once the sting has subsided
and you’ve caught your breath again,
you’ll know
that the anchor was only a dream
and the rigging was always love.

And the music is in you too.

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