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, November 17, 2016


When I am tornadoing through my day
like the Tasmanian Devil,
and my mind is clamoring
like a Pachinko palace,
and my hands are in
way too many gooseberry pies,
and my attention is distracted by distraction,
and doubt, thank God, has fled the scene,
left through the doggy door
whimpering like a mongrel
back to the junk yard (good riddance!),
you ambush me
with your grace, your soft voice,
your message: a sudden thought—
that thinks me and I am lucky enough
to overhear it. It’s Inspiration
that arrives like a door already open
that I am standing inside of,
or arrives like the next clue
to finding the buried treasure
that is already mine,
as long as I move toward the X
like Blackbeard standing tall
at the prow of his pirate ship.

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