From Savannah

These following works were submitted by an a young artist named Savannah. More of her works can be seen HERE.

~ The Skull of the Unicorn ~

The war’s been over many years
but still you’ll find the signs
we left behind. There’s no more tears
or nightly fears
or victory cheers.
But in the grass lie broken spears
and skulls hang in the vines.

I came across one just today
as I meandered on.
A tulip bed sat by the way
but in it lay
a skull, gone gray
from some poor unicorn - fell prey
to some old foe long gone.

~ The Frog and I ~

As I reclined one early autumn’s day
among some rushes by a pond, I spied
a frog, half-hid behind a leaf some ways
away from me. When each of us had eyed

the other over, we decided that
we each were not an enemy. So I
lay back but then I heard the frog jump. SPLAT!
The mud went flying up into the sky

and down onto my trousers. But instead
of being angry, I began to laugh.
The froggie’s leap was beautiful. My dead
and dreary eyes cleared up by more than half.

I’d gone that day to ponder and to mope
but nature’s little joke restored my hope.

From Glaiceana

The following is a digital work from an artist named Samantha. Her other work can be found HERE.

~ The Frozen Coasts of Home ~

The way across the seas is very long,
and many months it took the men and I,
and many waves were bust upon our bow,
and many leagues we sailed beneath the sky.

We sailed with many mighty men of strength
Proud was our Jarl, and fierce his battle cry.
We sailed by the charts he held in his mind
at night by sight of stars in his eye.

We met with terrors of both mind and of wrath
but stout of heart were all of us that sailed,
and none of us despaired when kraken writhed
or left our oars when sirens sweetly wailed.

Northern wind tried best to wreck our longboats
but from the north itself it was we came
and northern wind springs from each viking throat
Like her we’ve nothing that’s about us tame.

We struck a land of green and straight away
we lit the fires of war upon the coast.
Ten villages within a score of days!
Cattle held on burning homes to roast.

The native dogs attacked us in our sleep
but battle-lust does not dim with the night.
With hewing axe and swiftly swinging sword
we put their little warriors to flight.

Then laden down with all our spoils and gold,
we set out once again upon the foam.
Amid the icy waves we sailed until
we reached the frozen coasts that we call home.