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Freya's Rout


Joined July 2010

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  • Artist
  • Artwork Comments 14

Wall Art

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Artist's Description

This is one of my favourite colabs done with the very talented author Brett Young.

Freyas Rout

She rides a wrought iron chariot
Its wheel shod in brass
Drawn by horses wearing helmets
With accoutrements of glass

All her boot and bodice laces
Are of wild cats she skinned
And her flaming hair ungathered
Streams like pennants in the wind

And she feeds the horses’ fury
With the lashes of her whip
As it tears the air like thunder
Leather lightning in her grip

And the rain, like shards of mirror
Race the moonlight to her skin
As she charges ever forward
Like a demon seeking sin

Stabbing phosphorescent lances
From the lanterns on the front
Of her chariot chase spirits
From the shadows, to the hunt

And they screech in raucous concert
As they gather in behind
Like a stone on steel talons
Calling banshee cries to mind

And the destriers dash puddles
As they gallop on ahead
And the sky gets ever lower
Like a falling roof of lead

As the driver screams defiance
To the lightning’s blinding flash
That keeps time in mad compliance
With the plying of her lash

As the hourglass beside her
In its gamble drops its grains
Through it’s slender neck as tightly
As her grip upon the reins

And the silver moon is passive
Simply watching her career
As she throws the horses onward
Like Achilles throws a spear

Every second like a minute
Every minute like a day
She drives onward, ever onward
Through the cold and cloying clay

As the spirits follow closely
Thronging madly in her train
With the horses blinking madly
In the pummel of the rain

There’s a light on the horizon
And she turns the horse’s heads
This is what she had her heart on
And the angels in their beds

Wipe the grains of constant slumber
From their ever reaching gaze
And in squadrons start to plummet
From the heavens in arrays

Now they gather in formation
Holding swords and shields high
And they pledge, “Let’s not this Valkyrie”
Too easily pass by

But the horses gain momentum
For they sniff the stable’s scent
And their homeward rush may be too much
For angels to prevent

To the east, the dark is fading
To the west, the moon declines
At the gate the angels stand and wait
In hushed defiant lines

There’s a waver in formation
For they fear they may have met
Something older than creation
They have not encountered yet

With soaring cries, the woman
In the chariot decrees
I’m coming home. Now let me through
I’m dying by degrees

She calls on Nature’s powers
That the angels can’t abide
She plies the lash and with a crash
The angels move aside

The chariot it flashes
Through the serried ranks and past
Their wings unfold in rays of gold
The silver trumpets blast

The hooves they pound, the echoes sound
It causes them dismay
Perhaps they aren’t the only ones
To hold the human sway

She made it home, despite the dome
Of war that she was under
She turned the tide, survived the ride
The hammer of the thunder

The gate may close to all but those
That know her when they see her
And when the walls begin to fall
They’ll find her and they’ll free her


Artwork Comments

  • frankula49
  • dovey1968
  • Poete100
  • dovey1968
  • garts
  • dovey1968
  • Trudi's Images
  • dovey1968
  • sandra22
  • dovey1968
  • Vanessa Barklay
  • dovey1968
  • timbuckley
  • dovey1968
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desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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