Beowulf and Fenrir

Beowulf and Fenrir

 

     I am Beowulf. Son of Beowulf. Father of Beowulf. I will defeat this monster that they call Fenrir with just my bare hands. As I am walking toward the cave, I see the underworld through the crevice in the earth. The first thing I see are two black eyes staring right at me. I am not scared. I am Beowulf. It’s head is the size of a 10 story apartment building. I am not scared. I am Beowulf. Its claws are the size of a flagpole. Its teeth are each the size of a mailbox. The fur is the blackest black I have seen in my life. I call out to the monster, “I am Beowulf, son of Beowulf, father of Beowulf, and you shall die today!” He roars with intense anger as his eyes turn a fiery red. I jump as high as I can, and land right on his eye. It’s the size of a wrecking ball. I place my hands on the gooey, sticky eyeball and at that exact moment, the monster screamed a terrible, horrible scream. The monster shriveled up and started convulsing. Over, over and over again. As I stood back, the crevice to the underworld opened up. The monster fell, and fell, and fell. It is finished, my job is finally done. I start to hear another faint noise. A much deeper growling. A figure ten times the size of Fenrir rises out of the Underworld with a hungry, starved look on its face.

When the Drag Goes Off

Hopping in the boat

Skipping across the water

I am so excited

 

Throwing in the net

Up comes a shimmery bucket of fish

I hook them to the line

 

I cast it into the water

Up comes a bright red fin

My drag spins

 

My reel gets burning hot

I am almost out of line

I’m amazed at the fight of this fish

 

My fingers are going to fall off!

 

And up comes a giant redfish

60 pounds at least

I will always cherish the moment

 

When the drag goes off

And the fish takes off

And I start to reel and reel

 

Authors Note:

This Poem is of a memory of a thing I love, fishing. I go racing down the water one day, and we see a bait ball. We cast or the net, and come up with a bucket full of mullet. I attach the mullet to the line, and throw it in the water. I pop the jig, and soon enough, my bobber goes whoosh and I am in for the fight of my life. I fight the fish for a while, and then I see the fin of a redfish. A couple minutes later, I am taking a picture with the fish. I will always cherish this moment.

BlackOut Poem

Afraid

Turning to the right

Down a thick wooden slope

Same came behind

But not before terrified sight of tree trunks

We will come through the trees

And walk over the magic daylight

yet you scare me with live trolls