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James' Poems

View original inmate poetry featured on Vote for the poetry you like, and visit the inmate's profile. Poetry provides a means for expression and communication. Many people choose to develop their creative skills while incarcerated. This section allows you to read original poetry written by inmates.


Late to bed early to rise; the herd needs watchful eyes.  Nomadic blood that no one can tame; preserve this blood not like the ancient beast slain.  Protect the clan that buds from man; thunder echoes throughout the land.  The energy of the God's is present in all that is spoke; drums and singing now the Pagan soul has awoke.  Ignite the flame, Oh the divine spark; inhale the smoke of the oak bark.  Por the mead and pass the horn; bind with folk and hail the yet born.  The most precious gem of all mankind; frith and joy a unification of the soul and mind.  Hail the Gods, hail their wives, hail the earth, hail our lives.  Hail the light hail the dark, hail the ships a Vikings arc.  That which does not kill only strengthens the clan; stillness builds the bridge between God's and man.  As above, so is below; sacrifice to Freyr so the crops may grow.  Where is Odin? one will never know; business as usual traveling too and fro. Throughout the trees that made you and me, maidens appear in a group of three.  Arms above in the shape of a V; to ward and protect my love, my Valkyrie.  Victory or Valhalla or so the saying goes; light the path our ancestors chose.  A cleansing fire can illuminate a road to order that is right; oaths and justice, sacrifice and fight.  Do not fear death for we live through the blood; eternal is our folk protected by motherly love.  Stay loyal to the stead and a dying breed; trust the Gods who will guild and lead.  One to his intended purpose and plan; the noble race, the God-man.  Who entered this realm over a mysterious sea; a product os Asgard and divine fertility.  A seed is just a seed until it is planted with love; then it grows to reach the sun and Gods above.  Who will open your eyes to the purpose of our kind; to secure the existence of our soul and mind.  Of the Holy Nordic Grail, the blood of our folk and the stories we tale.  The deeds we commit and the actions we take; the knowledge we pass and the children we make.  All that I have chanted is governed by one runic sign; it is that of the All-Father who hung in the tree for the holy number nine.

James Mitchell 829728
Monroe, WA

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