Am I a Skalder? No I am not
When the day’s scalding hot
Then my skald goes to pot.
Yet must I endeavour
With heart in my mouth
And still try to speak clearly
Whilst my morale hurtles south.
Hey, this is quite keen
I have just seen
I don’t have to rhyme,
Just proliferate and alliterate!

Right ho, here goes
Stands up on her tippy toes.......

*ahem*

"A LAMENTATION

Wended her way wearily westwards
To Airy Aquae Sulis that sweet stream
Of the Golden Goddess who gleams
Leaden loaded she crept
Courage craven she wept
At life she was inept.

Bathed in serpent steam that writhed
Roundly wresting wicked wrinkles
From her tanned old hide
Smell of sulphur Demons of darkness
Hide therein upon the spin
Of water washing, wishing beauty
As she dreamed devoutly
Of youth to yield its face to favour
To flavour her life, to salt her senses
And assault the envious eyes
Of lesser lovelies – but unlessen lusties
Of lovers likely – muscles like mussels
Bulging bountifully in a bag of burlap

So she lies lack-lissom in her lies
Believing that below she billows
In Frothing fumes she floats
She hopes
Wrinkled still - bane of years that rage
Ancient still – and yet no more a sage."