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, August 7, 2014

PURPLE

Not a prolix epistle to God.
The glossy sheen of a nightshade

is aubergine, orchid flouncing its fertility,
amethyst glaring at a drunkard's glass.

Neither nobility nor gloom.
Look at the Jacaranda flowering

in Nepal, the Thai widow
mourning in the February rain.

Purple does not care about indigestion 
or chakras, but remembers 

signing imperial edicts with amaranthine ink, 
or standing shell-shocked before the paparazzi

with a heart-shaped badge
bleeding in its hand.

Purple is not clairvoyant.
Look at Wagner

writing operas, plucking arias
from mauve drapes.
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