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