words from kvasir – the mead of poetry

Reem and Rob are still beavering away with me at fine tuning our Rune Deck for publication. There are so many layers that need reviewing and fixing not just in the presentation of the card art but also in the words that enhance the interpretation and understanding of each card. I’ve been testing out your responses to the Rune Poems. They’re more like poetic tone paragraphs.

We’ve been asked by several subscribers to publish these rune poems on my/this website. I thinks it’s best to do them in small batches without the entire card’s artwork for now to hold back the full joy of the unfolding finished deck. Also we did begin by looking at the rune symbols as raw powerful energies in their own right and over the year they have grown and informed us of their frequencies. So here are a few of the rune symbols and their sticky liquor from Kvasir – the Mead of Poetry.

Kvasir was the deity created from the spittle of the gods after the war between the Æsir & Vanir. He was a kind, sharing, caring gift with an incredible depth of knowledge and compassion. He was lured by a pair of elves to his transformative death and rebirth as the Mead of Poetry after they killed him, drained his blood and mixed it with honey. There are three cauldrons that link to Kvasir and the mellifluous mastery of wordsmithery (I just creatively typed that word and my computer doesn’t like it but I do, so it’s staying).

It begins with one inclusion of a complete card and poem for Sheilagh of Spirit Journeys with Sheilagh who inspired the journey of this particular rune. Thanks Sheilagh so very very much. Also thanks to Sacred Seer for asking me to put this card up as she collects Seers, so to speak.

Now follows a short poetic story chosen through a Seidr shuffle. Enjoy.

Īs

Newly born, frightened first step, primary motion so uncertain. Learning to walk while holding consciousness in its vessel and being caught out by life but thriving and breathing deep. Held still in naïve stasis, calculate, plan, redefine and absorb all that’s needed to move forwards on the dangerous thin ice. 

Twelf

All physical manifestations require structural frames to hold form. Atomic micro fractals that echo-swell to Cosmic macro scaffolding holding all in place. To be firm, to learn the boundaries and edges of the space your cells create as flesh. Sense the edges of your shell and then stretch your conscious energy beyond. Open your frequency and extend far into to the etheric realms of magic.

Bróm

Stocky, tough and green with spiky sharp leaves, knee-holly is the besom broom beloved of butchers. Scarlet berries, large as cherries speak of the scrubbing back of bloodied stains. These troubles that travel down from the astral to the actual realm to stalk the living worlds must be scoured away. The harsh sweeping up that begins in dreams must be tackled in life, fully removing its stains. Brush with the prickly bush every corner of every trauma to rid yourself of those thorny narratives.

Ing

Son of the Sea, Freyr’s fertility forces fauna from the soil’s soul. Sunshine saturates the Sacral, as purified rain rolls to the roots of all life. The soaked and saturated seeds split, the first thread of germination plunges down so the wild water meadow flowers can sprout, shoot and bloom with the soul’s new tune. Ignite your song.

Eorðmægen

Earth power, personal power, Thy power, thine alone, carved in stone before birth, in that other place. Sigil of the cosmic gift that awaits birthing through you, by you, for you. Esoteric secrets of the full moon eclipse where worry and ruin are dissolved by the light of being, seeded in the Earth. The Earth Magus, the oldest Sacral cycle completed, shadows burnish the soul refurnished.

So there you have a little journey of poetic paragraphs. More will follow… eventually.