AERP

Fee is a force that fuels our world
in myriad sorts, like money for service
as if formal fief made it flow like old,
and still it’ll bring strife quite often.

Ooze is an uberform with oodles of varieties
that flow thickly yet are filled with life,
such as sap, blood, and honey. But its secret is also
in the wet dank mud of waters deep.

Thorn is a threat to a thumb unwary
and ruin is risked if it’s recklessly grasped;
’tis the simple defense of a stationary plant,
but magnified in might, it’s Mjölnir’s power.

Os is honored for the art he won
—precious poetry—on his perilous quest,
the runes we rown and write today,
and the wode that works all wonders with both.

Ride is ready for roaming the worlds
when well-maintained; such a wagon with horse,
a cycle, or a car—with a self to guide—
is right for parade and rhythmic motion.

Charcoal is chiefly chunky in form,
a fire-essence fashioned by man
from organic matter for gunpowder, art,
filtering, cooking, forging, and more.

Gift is gladsome and good to receive,
but better given with abundance inside;
both back and forth it binds together
fellows in frith and the faithful to the gods.

Wyn is welcomed if woes are few,
the home is strong, the holy is known,
and life is abundant in a luminous heart;
‘twixt fellows feasting it’s found in the air.

Hail is from heaven, a hard cold grain
that smashes snakes and summer crops,
but it turns to water in a time that’s short,
its prime for planting passing quickly.

Need is nuanced, though narrow it feels
and like nettle stings, since knowledge and wisdom
can turn it to use or triumph at best
by invoking vision and inventive spirit.

Incense is the issue from an icky resin
when fierce fire frees its fulsome might
to purify spaces and inspire people
to the glorious gods and great beyond.

Year is the unit that’s yoked to the sun,
the seasonal cycle of sowing and harvest,
the longer measure of our mortal lives,
and a wheel that turns, once for each Yule.

Eagle is eating the eels from the water
and soaring o’er land and simpler creatures;
a watch he keeps in the world tree’s crown,
seeing everything from that seat supreme.

Pear is perfect for play with the lots
—and a fruit to flavor the finest meads—
when rooted in a well that’s rich in wyrd;
the trees of battle must test them both.

Zenith is desired with zest by the seeker
to expand his choices, experiences, and view,
but care is required to keep to the heights,
else Nadir may follow if a nosedive happens.

Sun is for sailors a sign and guide
and the light of the land for those living ashore;
this shining glory will shrink the ice,
and she blesses all with boons aplenty.

Tue is in tales the trothful god,
for his sacrifice bound the insatiable wolf.
His unwavering token is a way-guide in darkness,
and name him twice for needful victory.

Birch is bearing her bright green leaves
on fruitful limbs that are full of youth.
This mother makes the moments of life:
birth, being, becoming, and breaking the seed.

Elk is ever the excellent beast
that aims to the azure with antlers aloft,
and a powerful partner to pair with the seeker
for the ride through life and to the realm of death.

Man is mortal, in the middle he lives,
and the moon measures his meagre span,
yet he’s needed for the work of the noble gods:
raising Midgard to its rightful potential.

Lake is limited yet living with fish,
unseen on the surface when sailing across.
Its depths hold gold that dragons may guard,
and storms can stir the stillest waters.

Ing is well-hung with his honored prong
as a god of the world and growing crops;
in a wagon with blessings he wanders around
ere the triumph time when he returns o’er the waves.

Day is from Drighten and dear to all,
but dawn and dusk have deemed his bounds.
One works awake by his winsome light
ere Night then takes her needful turn.

Ore is the origin from which order is fashioned
of metal for man to remake as he will.
Its rough, raw form in realms below
discloses through craft its countless secrets.

Ull is the ur-spring in the umwelt of glory,
archery, skis, and the evergreen yew.
His ship is a shield in shrouded kennings,
and by bow his will got a bounteous hunt.

Village is a victory for the vigor of a people
when firmly rooted in the fecund earth
and the bravery of the best who bolster its defense;
’tis a homeland that’s scaled to human life.

Ship is surest when at shore it’s docked,
but no fame is found in facile quests;
with a crew of seekers, it crosses the seas
for the wealth and wisdom of wild lands unknown.

Earth is the utter and ultimate source
of life in the world ’neath the luminous sun,
and the end for humans on the ancestors’ path
as they return for the cycle of timeless renewal.

Genre is a regime in which zhuzh may flourish,
because craft requires the curb of rules
to set the boundaries and summit of excellence
for the artist to express his ultimate potential.

Thataway is thence and thither both:
many directions in mangled potential,
with fingers pointed to proffer confusion,
but such paradoxes contain a promise of clarity.

Cup is kenned best by the keen in wode
as a holy horn, heavy with poetry,
essential at sumbel. This sail of dwarves,
Woden’s way-gain, is the wellspring of magic.

Gem is joyful when with judgement cut
to show its shine and the unshakeable heart
of the bold stone etin. With brilliance they show
a stellar ideal to seek through Quest.

Ash has access to absolute mystery
through roots, trunk, branches, and realms all nine,
and an ash on an ash by an ash wounded
fulfills the quest for these fimbul runes.

Copyright © 2024 Eirik Westcoat. All rights reserved.