56 Best Viking Poems to Record the Special Norse Culture
The Vikings were seafaring people from Scandinavia who played a significant role in European history during the Middle Ages.
Their culture, beliefs, and way of life have been celebrated in literature, including poetry.
Viking poems offer a glimpse into the values and beliefs of this unique culture, with themes ranging from love and war to death and the afterlife.
Whether you’re a history buff, a poetry enthusiast, or simply curious about the Vikings, there are poems on Viking for you.
Wanna see what we have in store for you?
Let’s get started!
Famous Viking Poems
Some of the most famous poems about Viking are epic in scale, celebrating heroic deeds and battles. These poems were often recited aloud and passed down through generations, serving as a means of preserving the history and culture of the Vikings.
1. Viking
by Steve D’Beard
stand fast
raise your warrior arm
in splendour and dissent
carve the path
besieged on all sides;
the penance of deviance
awaits with open arms
embrace the battle cry
let it ring in the ears
of your foes and their kin
fulfill the oathes
uphold all that is good
in a world of devilment
that crawls beneath the skin
You are a Viking
in this life and the next
do not falter
your name depends on it;
resolution and absolution
await only the brave
the Viking exists in you
do not ignore your dreams
until your grave
your last breath
will be the final kiss
upon this world;
make it count.
2. The Boarding Party
by Tony Luxton
Their boat turned in towards us
ready to board our vessel
to take us to their island,
a fastness, craggy, bleak, treeless.
To winter peat fires, gales, darkness,
weird northern tales of gods and trolls,
black nights seared by bright light curtains,
a violent Viking heritage.
A place where cold sea and ocean
overturn the crippled sea stacks,
our lives in the boarding party’s
hands and our skilful Shetland pilot.
3. I am Viking
by Perry Long
A Thousand Years Ago,
three Gods ran rampant,
pulsing,
through my veins.
Odin, Thor, and Loki
were the blood that hammered through my heart.
Throughout the World
I ***** and pillaged,
killed, and took
all that could be mine.
I was not afraid to die,
and more,
I was not afraid to live.
I am Viking.
A thousand years ago.
Everywhere in the known world
I roamed, and beyond,
and everywhere I conquered.
Everywhere I stayed,
and stood,
with my blue eyes shining,
and became
all that was around me.
I am Viking
A thousand years ago.
And now I am here.
I am peaceful, gentle,
and I am shining.
I learned my lessons well
in a thousand years or so.
But I must warn you.
Be careful,
Do not abuse me.
Deep within my heart and soul,
Odin, Thor, and Loki
still lie sleeping.
and I am Viking
from a thousand years ago.
I am Viking.
A thousand years ago.
4. Swing Me a Viking Blow
by Anonymous
are you sure you’re happy as you
why do I feel threatened
like my face is your quarry
and your tongue will slice me down
its like you wish to clamp your teeth
and **** the marrow from my skeleton
drink the burning bile from my gall
as if you wish to wear my skin
a sideshow of risks that houses mirrors
a mountain that you climbed had savage fangs
a snapping turtle of circumstance finds a digit
dining out on the misery of a pessimistic feast
no trust beyond the heavens and the drops of light
a burning epiphany scorches its way to embers
a slow trickle of oozing satisfaction
a blown glass mace wielded and smashed
5. The Silent Viking Ship
by Caren Krutsinger
Viking ship glided into the port at two in the morning
The sailors had slept through it, snoring was heard by fish
Aurora Borealis was flashing lavender blue and green lights
A show no human saw that evening, as everyone was sleeping
There were no sounds of oars dipping into the water.
Norway was silent, as were the woods and the ship.
The men slept as soundly as any army ever had.
Morning would be soon enough to start the celebration.
Some had not returned, which is always sad.
Especially when they left behind a young sweetheart.
Or left behind a loving wife with three little Norwegians.
The silent ship drifted in under the smile of Aurora Borealis.
6. To Go a Viking
by Joe Cole
To go a viking was the call
To be answered by Norsemen blonde and tall
And so they rode the dragon boats
The powers of Thor and Odin they did invoke
Once more upon a foreign shore
Spared not the weak who did emplore
For mercy from untimely death
A viking was a raid unto death
The weak and feeble felt the axe
Even the strong had no hope to match
The power of its savage bite
And when the blow fell death came in sight
Of those yet to fall
Delivered by a norseman tall
Few were spared and taken slave
To labour for their remaining days
Then the longships turned once more for home
Few Norsemen dead no more to roam
There is a name for what they did
To Go a Viking
Funny Viking Poems
While many interesting poems about Viking are serious in tone, there are also plenty of humorous and light-hearted options out there. These poems use humor to poke fun at the quirks and idiosyncrasies of Viking life.
1. Death of a Viking
by Naomi Sara
I am Viking
with sea by my front
and wind at my back,
mainsails billowing
as a crimson mistral
sets my boat out to sea
to lands afar through the
gurgling pulsating fury
of lightning and thunder
playing upon waves
from the ocean deeps.
I came as warrior,
I came as raider
I came as slaver
to pillage and to conquer
for my gods and for my sons,
feel my wrath in battle,
ashes on my forehead
from the rubble at my feet,
I have no fear in death
for I hear the Valkyries cry,
my Valhalla awaits.
The omen of death
has resonated
through the deep hoarse
of the raven’s croak,
as they carry me
to Odin’s hall up high
I will drink my share of mead
and hear my brothers sing.
Through the frozen nights
and the misty dawns
amidst the curling smoke
from my burning blood and bones
spreading upon the raging tides
across to foreign coasts,
onward over the mountain tops,
may my name be carried on.
2. Viking Visits the Reservation
by M
My best friend tells me that she was born in the wrong time.
That her viking ancestors would be ashamed of how much
she can’t handle. How she’s no warrior.
So I take her to a powwow that my sister’s dancing at
and let her feel the vibrations of the drums
pound through her feet.
I tell her maybe our war drums are our heartbeats.
She’s fighting herself and using razors as her soldiers.
I say, if you need sharp things let’s use arrows to figure
out where east is so we can run towards the rising sun
like my ancestors did.
We can use words as our shield walls in battle
and I can be the dragon head on your ship
to scare off the enemy in dark and foggy times.
If you want to get a little pagan I’ll burn all my sage for you
and we can pray to all the gods we’ve heard stories of.
I’ll teach you all the tricks my shima’ sani taught me.
We are warriors. But is it selfish of me to hope that you
never go to Valhalla? I want you to live long after
the fighting ends.
3. The Viking-Maid
by Helen E. Wieand
Oh, a heart as wild as the wildest sea
Was born in me long ago,
When a Viking-maid, so bold and free,
I roamed over meadow and forest and lea,
With never a care in the world for me,—
A Viking of long ago.
But it died one night and slept away
The centuries until now;
And now it beats in a different way,
Though once and again it longs to stray
And roam like a Viking, as today.
Those days come back to me now.
Inspirational Viking Poems
Viking culture placed a strong emphasis on bravery, honor, and loyalty. As such, there are many inspirational poems about Viking that draw upon these qualities to inspire readers to be their best selves.
1. The Spirit of the North
The sea blood slumbering in our veins
Through the life we’ve led on hills and plains
Has caught the sound of waves once more
That break upon the northern shore.
And a thousand years are swept away —
The Vikings’ time was yesterday —
We cannot live in land-locked bowers,
The sea is ours! The sea is ours!
And we’ll scour the seas in our ships of steam,
And our merchantmen with their sails shall gleam,
And it shall come to all men’s ken
That the old north spirit moves again.
2. Viking
by Mason Hollows
Listen
My skin glistens
The sweat drips ~n~
I feel the motion
The rise of my emotions
The tingle in the spine
Expands in time
Engulfing my muscles
With adrenaline, hustle
**** reason
Incite treason
Don’t back down
Don’t turn aroun’
Introduced, an obstacle
Beat it like a rock, unstoppable
Heart, rhythm, momentum
Breath, flex, go get ‘em
Never rest,
There is no success
As soon as you think you won,
Something hits your chest
So stand up, strong
This fight is gunna last long
In 1 second,
You could be gone
3. Viking Soul
by Brendan Thomas
Darkness encircles my soul deep in Hell
Cut down on the battlefield, I died where I fell
Swirls of color and light, appeared when I passed
I was back at the battle, but now as a guest
Farther back still, we went through my past
Saw my mistakes, my pains, and my laughs
Now I know how I ended up here
I lived as a heathen and never knew fear.
4. Viking Warfare
by Viking Warfare
I left my home, the world to roam
it’s been now twelve years gone.
From a boy to a man
was a dreadful short span,
as I journeyed to valleys beyond.
Now the king, he has spoken
and battle has broken,
I’m wise to the ways of the world.
Long on the sword,
as we seek our reward,
to see our flag unfurled…
Sailed by starry dark of night,
our longships cross the sea.
Where a hundred headless horsemen
guard the gates of Galilee.
Each dawn’s a daily dance of death,
through battle smoke like dragon’s breath.
With echo axe to armor chink,
each onslaught we rebuffed.
You can invite the devil for a drink
…if you think you’re man enough.
Heavy’s the head that wears the crown,
when the blood of brothers’ beckons.
Weak is the sword, as it lies on the ground.
If there’s a will, there’s a way,
there are weapons.
But once the battle has ended
and our journeys’ been made,
there’ll be air in my lungs,
and blood on my blade.
As was foretold, our flag was unrolled
in the past… now once again!
Vikings prevail, each time we sail,
in the age of wooden ships
… and iron men.
Short Viking Poems
Like many forms of poetry, short poetries about Viking can be short and sweet, packing a lot of meaning into just a few lines. These poems often use vivid language and imagery to convey powerful emotions and ideas.
1. Viking Sword
by Peter W Iversen
Blacksmith’s massive hands
delivering powerful hammer blows,
beating glowing red steel
into submission.
Sparks illuminating
magnificent artistry.
Fiercely wielded
in the name of Odin.
Tales heralded its glory.
Unearthed, virtually unscathed.
Instrument of death,
1,200 years at peace.
2. Viking Saga
by Nivek
Braided brushed *******
the princess and her jewels
hair fair platted with history
servants standing by swords ready
gold hats seamed silver pulled tight
with silk ribbons and scarfs full beaded
this is a Viking girl astride her war horse
3. Viking Vibes
by Corvus
I want to be one of those cool, modern Vikings,
But I’m too short, beardless and fat.
I guess I’d make a good Hobbit,
But it’s not really the same thing.
Anyway, sometimes things are just unreachable.
4. O Viking Gods of the Norse
by MCWA
O Viking Gods of the Norse,
you governed the mighty seas.
your boats were built of gopher wood;
and you made wise use of a breeze!
5. Viking Wonderer
by Brandon Nagley
I shalt be one’s ravaging Viking
Exploring her wonder’s,
Wherein man hast not yet seen…
Long Viking Poems
These long poetries about Viking often celebrate the heroic deeds of Viking warriors and leaders, offering a glimpse into their values and beliefs.
1. The Viking
by Vladislav Raven
Glory and honour oh man of the North
Valhalla waits to welcome thee
Spend a night of passion with thy Lady
For tomorrow death or conquest await
Come into my arms my beloved
Thou art the queen of my heart
Let us share this night it may be our last
In joy and majesty our bodies join
Tonight is for Love tomorrow Valhalla may await
So gently my fingers do play across your soft flesh
Thy majesty doth tremble at my touch
You moan with pleasure as i do enter thee
We shall soon enter Loves’ sublime
Tomorrow in the battle line we shall stand
Tomorrow our fate shall be sealed
Tonight the glory of Love
Brown eyes that shine with such Love
Into me eyes they seep to seek my Soul
Come my beloved find my Soul
Tonight you have already entered the heart
Now I enter thy body
If it be one last time then it shall be sublime
Night is gone the day is here
We stand in battle lines arrayed
Shield wall ready to make stand
Blood runs fury in the Soul
Together my beloved and I shield to shield
Battle fury raging deep within
An enemy across the empty space does run
Come unto thy death sons of war
The battle crash heard in Heavens’ majesty
Odin blow your battle horn
Valhalla awaits now let us bathe in blood
Odin we fight on to battles’ end
If this be our end let it be a tale to tell over and over
Let the Valkyrie come to take us home
The Vikings go home to Valhalla
Hail Odin father, God of the Viking
The shield wall is broken
My eyes now grow dim
The battle now over
Life it is lost
The spirit waits on
Unwilling to relinquish Loves’ glory
Unwilling to relinquish life
Yet the Valkyrie come
They shall take me or pass me
Oh Odin father hear my plea
Take thy warrior son to Valhalla
Let these struggling eyelids eternally close over this life
Over this painful world of memory
Yet also memory of Love-light shall live on
I know the last sight i see but a memory
Two soft brown eyes in a sorrowed face
My beloved you had to go home to our son
We Loved through our night
We fought most of our day
My Love left with the ships
The dragon flies home to come again
We the rearguard held the hounds at bay
Once shield wall did break death and destruction
Now my heart beats come oh so slowly
My sword held tightly in my hand
This was a good day
Sing the song of my life Vikings
Odin father take me home
Come Valkyrie I am ready
My eyes close on this world my Loves’ vision the last thing i see
The Halls of Valhalla!!!!!!!
2. The Winds of Time
by Marycile Beer
One day I was passing time
And wrote these words upon the lines,
I know not where they came you see
The Winds of Time were there for me.
If I could open a door to the past
And there before me were the paths
I’m not quite sure which I would choose
But The Winds of Time would see me through.
The vastness there before God’s Hand
Then came the heavens, the seas, the land
Eden, Noah and the Christ Child’s birth
Is the path that I see first.
I’m not into Knights or dragon days,
Nor Robin Hood and his saving ways,
But give me a Viking as he crosses the seas
And I’ll dream of the lands so wild and free.
The music of Irland calls to me,
Where Kathleen’s heart has ever been,
And for Danny Boy the fifes do call
I’ll shed my tears lest he should fall.
As Immigrants touched upon our shores
The Indians prepared to fight once more,
But fate stepped in and eased the sore
They’d live in peace forever more.
The battles fought upon this land
To protect us from Tierney’s hand,
The Civil War for Freedom’s right
The Alamo where comrades died.
At Little Big Horn where our soldiers died,
As Indians defend their homes with pride,
The government later took a hand
And put them on Reservation land.
I remember well, when I was quite young
The days of World War II
And how my father’s life did change
When the family business he assumed.
Twenty-four seven was unheard of then,
But that was their working day,
They helped keep our nations trucks on the road
Their battlefield was here in the USA.
I’ll choose the path with pastures green,
Horses, cattle and the cowboy scene,
This is the land of my mother’s birth
The most precious land to me on earth.
I chose this land and took a stand,
Married a cowboy and we ranched the land.
Though now retired and family gone
This land will always be our home.
The Winds of Time, know well my soul
I’ll rest at night with days of yore.
And as I wake a prayer I’ll say
Please God, may we have Peace today?
3. The First of Many
by Michayla K.
Lightning crashes and thunder rolls.
The soil; quicksand under heel.
Feet shackled by mud and grime.
We stand rooted in position.
The sky sobs a torrential downpour.
The wind slices through bone to soul.
As cold as the death we expect.
As sharp as the swords in hand.
Thor’s cackle resounds through the air,
reveling in the game we play.
Loki’s giggle in our hearts,
plastering smiles on our faces.
Odin’s strength at our backs,
keeping us strong and tall.
The Valkyrie awaiting those who will inevitably…
fall.
Teeth grinding and knuckles white on my axe.
Heart pounding, breath quickening.
A step forward,
releasing my feet from their prision.
I run.
Axe raised, teeth bared.
A friend to my left, our foe in front.
“Strike them down”, Odin said.
Swift movements and the taste of copper on our tongues.
The heady addiction of the battlefield.
Crazed laughter and a battle cry to my sister.
We are made for this, for war.
This; our first of many.
4. Larking in the Mud with Grandad
by Charlotte Watkins
Premiere Contest Winner
I, to the pasture’s green could run,
and fly a kite beside the sun,
but choose, I do, to linger still,
among the dirt, what is my frill?
Low, be it may, to sink my feet,
into the slimy, pungent peat,
but with my grandad by my side,
would daily stroll along the tide.
To rescue guls stuck in the mud,
or gather sticks for firewood.
As luck would have it on one day,
the tides did change and under clay,
a viking boat from days gone by,
with shields of pine and rivots ply.
Unmasked itself from muddy deep,
a secret for ourselves to keep.
Each day, we returned, with a spade,
with picnic full of marmalade,
and feasted there beside the boat,
in our wool hat and winter coat.
Charmed not only by history,
but by such untold mystery.
Then on one fateful dreaded night,
the waves were high, the wind a fright,
storms blasted down upon the shore,
Until the longboat was no more.
My granddad early on that day,
forgot to mention or to say,
he felt unwell, or rather ill,
but trudgeoned on, a soldier still.
But in the haste of wind and gale,
I didn’t realise he was pale.
By the morning when I awoke,
to no smell of cigarette smoke.
I went downstairs and saw the fridge,
his oatmeal there, still on the ridge.
Maybe a lie in, thought my head,
I ran upstairs to grandad’s bed.
There asleep, I thought at a glance,
I nudged him, but he kept his stance.
He was gone, how? I hugged him tight,
and ran for the river at twilight.
So here I am beside the tide,
Waiting for the mud to reside.
But if it does, what shall I do?
For treasure is nought, without you.
5. The Viking
by Hugh McNab
A baneful comet from the Bear
Flamed in the northern sky;
It summoned sinful men to prayer,
It summoned Svend to die.
Beneath its influence malign
The pole star sickly grew;
Too well the meaning of the sign
The aged viking knew.
Before his birth a warlock wise
Thus had his fate foretold
To that fair girl with noonday eyes
And hair of sunset gold,
Who, haply lingering in the bay
To watch the turning tide,
From home and kin was rapt away
To be a robber’s bride.
“The babe thou bearest with thee now
No fertile land shall till,
The barren ocean shall he plough
And thereof reap his fill.
“With him shall no man kinship claim,
But none shall dare refuse
What he shall ask in friendship’s name,
Or uninvited choose.
“A welcome never bought with gold
From all shall he receive,
For what their hate would fain withhold
Their fear shall freely give.
“The cheeks of maidens in their play
At thought of him shall pale;
Herdsmen shall drive their herds away
When they espy his sail;
“The warders of the lonely coasts,
Within their castles strong,
All night shall sit, unwilling hosts,
To hear his drinking song.
“But humble fisherfolk from sea
Shall leave their weary toil,
His faithful followers to be,
And share the captured spoil.
“So wandering on the waves afar
Shall rove his homeless crew;
The Bear that guards the northern star
Shall be his guardian too.
“But when the Bear with fiery breath
The star shall dare consume,
Then let his spirit look for death,
And meet the appointed doom.
“Yet after life, ’tis so ordained,
He once again shall sail;
A land, where never mortal reigned,
A deathless king shall hail.”
Year after year had passed away,
Hot summers, winters cold,
And now was come the fatal day
Whereof the wizard told.
With age the face of Svend was scarred,
His beard was white and long;
But, as in youth, his thews were hard,
His bones and joints were strong.
But what avails man’s utmost power
Against the Fates’ decree?
Theirs is it to appoint the hour,
His but to bow the knee.
Now twice by night that token same
Had shone for all to view,
And on the third, when evening came,
Svend summoned up his crew.
“Come round me now, my faithful friends
Alike in storm and fight;
Yon fiery sign in heaven portends
That I shall die to-night.
“Receive ye then my last command,
And swear my word to keep,
So may you prosper in the land,
So I in peace may sleep.”
They raised their hands with one accord,
With one accord they swore
Inviolate to keep his word,
Then wept in silence sore.
So Svend uprose beneath the stars
And put his armour on,
Reflected in the steely bars
The fateful comet shone.
His battle-axe in hand he held,
His mighty sword was slung
Beside his thigh, his studded shield
Upon his shoulder hung.
On heaven he fixed his eyes a space
As who should gaze his last,
Then o’er the sea’s familiar face
A loving look he cast;
Awhile to all his gods in prayer
His head he humbly bent,
Then bade his weeping comrades cheer
And cease from vain lament.
“Build me,” he cried, “no mound of stones
My buried corpse to hold,
Nor burn the flesh from off my bones
And leave them bare and cold.
“Clad in my arms and coat of mail
Seat me within my ship,
Gather the cords that hold the sail
And tie them in my grip;
“Lash firm my right hand to the helm,
The rudder let go free,
For I must steer to seek a realm
Alone beyond the sea.
“So, when the tide is ebbing fast
And grows the morning light,
Hoist up the sail upon the mast
And watch me out of sight.”
Softly the dawn began to creep
Across the slumbering land,
No need to waken Svend from sleep
Or rouse that faithful band.
All night their torches flamed amid
The silence and the gloom,
All things were done as he had bid,
And now the time was come.
Clad in his arms and coat of mail,
His right hand on the helm,
They launched him out with hoisted sail
Alone to seek his realm.
No breeze was there to carry him,
Yet fast he sped along,
And for a final requiem
They sang his battle-song.
So to the north he sailed away,
They watched him out of sight
Upon his left the ocean lay,
The coast upon his right.
Soon were the bays and headlands crost
Where pines and birches grow,
And where the stunted firs are lost
In fields of endless snow.
It seemed as though the sail were swelled
By some mysterious breath,
Or the uplifted keel impelled
By mermen from beneath.
Norwegian fishermen with awe
A magic ship descried,
Laplanders trembled as they saw
No mortal vessel glide.
An eagle dropping from the height
Swooped once about his head,
She dipped her wings to cross his sight,
Then on her way she sped;
Seagulls, awakening from their sleep,
Like souls of drowned men
Rose silently from out the deep,
And followed in his train;
A school of porpoises swam round
And kept the ship in view,
And formed as if on duty bound
A royal retinue;
Two seals, fleet coursers of the sea,
A league in front set forth
To herald his advance as he
Sailed on toward the north;
In ordered ranks the whales drew out
And lay to at the sign,
Saluting with their waterspout
In turn along the line.
Still on he passed beyond the land,
To where in seas unknown
The breakers on a frozen strand
In flakes of ice fall down.
But further north and yet more far
He steered with steadfast gaze,
As if he sought the northern star
By old familiar ways.
At last the waves grew firm and hard
His errant ship to block,
Gigantic icebergs rose and barred
His path, like hills of rock.
Here, where the winds in council meet
And sally forth to blow,
His rigid fingers loosed the sheet
And let the halliards go;
Down dropped the sail, the vessel swung
Secure beneath the lee
Of cliffs of ice, that overhung
And formed a canopy.
With frost bedecked, her sides, her mast,
Her spars, her rigging shone;
No earthly potentate could boast
So glorious a throne.
Upright he sat, and on his brow
Was placed a coronet,
With flashing emeralds aglow,
And sapphires richly set.
Across his shoulders to his feet
A mantle white was spread,
And all the deck about his seat
With white was carpeted.
The Arctic lights shot up on high
Above the starry dome,
Illuminating all the sky
To give him welcome home.
And now throughout the pathless waste,
That leads nowhence nowhere,
To greet their new-found king, in haste
His subjects gathered near;
Old Winter’s chosen favourites,
Who wear his livery,
Wont to pursue their loves and fights,
Undisciplined and free.
The bears approached with stately stride,
Lords of the great white sward,
They made obeisance at his side,
And set a body-guard.
The foxes limped around and stared
With hunger in his face,
They touched him not, and scarcely dared
To snarl about the place.
The timid hares forgot their foes
Beneath his rule benign,
They crowded in from all the snows
Like pilgrims to a shrine.
Within the presence of the king
The king’s own peace prevailed,
His influence kept a hallowed ring,
A refuge unassailed.
In heaven above to mark his reign,
In token of his sway,
The northern star shone forth again,
The comet passed away.
But him no summer sun shall warm,
No winter tempest chill,
Alike to him are calm and storm,
Alike are good and ill.
There in the frozen solitude
That guards the Arctic zone,
Where mortal man may not intrude,
He sits and reigns alone.
Viking Poems That Rhyme
Rhyme can add a playful and musical quality to poems about Viking with rhyming words, making them fun to read out loud or to share with children.
1. It Only Hurts Because It Rains
by Angela Crabtree
Wandering eyes piercing silent wounds
focusing on whatever temporarily resumed
wondering what havoc makes this love abound
never turning to look around
eyes only for each other
closer than a brother
lush we have in togetherness swoon
not a fragile balloon
stare into the deepest oceans
blue and hazel turn into private notions
a precious gem of emerald green
sparkling in winters seen
focusing on what’s golden
values set in motionless smoulder
shameless in perfection felt
turn no tables forever dwelt
may no person interfere
their name will smear
melodies steep the night
holding on tight
viking and Celt collide
conveying what’s on the inside
seeking virtues amongst the plains
it only hurts because it rains
2. Fiery Dragon
by John F McCullagh
Viking chiefs Valhalla bound,
at death, were not interred I’ve found.
On a fire ship they ‘d place their chief
and cremate him per their belief.
Was it an obsequious grief
that gave rise to this strange belief?
For seafaring folk it scarce seems mete
to lose a captain, then burn the fleet.
With Dragon heads fixed fore and aft
Those ships brought terror, sword and shaft.
Irish Monks would think its fine
to burn one to the water line.
The ship of death was burning bright
as it sank within the fjord that night
carrying the Viking chiefs cremains
to his Viking gods’ domains.
Was it conspicuous consumption
that drove the Vikings to this junction?
Perhaps after a life , ****** and gory,
they craved going out in a blaze of glory.
3. Viking Plunder
by Shadow Hamilton
The Viking gallery slipped quietly through the night
the oars just barely skimming the gentle swell
sails were fur-lowed tight to help hide it from sight
the warriors ready for the signal sounded by the bell
Silently they landed, ferocious was their appearance
wielding their great battle axes wearing winged helmets
they crept up on the sleeping village in timeless trance
plundering and pillaging killing some helpless pets
Taking captive, the fairest of the maids enslaving burly men
to work the gallery’s oars, filling the hold with stolen treasure
drinking wine from carved horns and spit roasting a tasty hen
soon well into their cups they ravished most maids keeping one pure
She of flaxen hair and hour glass figure and tender years was spared
a most fitting present for their king, the rest would be auctioned for profit
the coin added to the treasury. Now under full sail the waves they dared
knowing a welcome most raucous awaited they now their torches lit
Their king was most pleased with his gift and vowed they would be wed
a great feast was prepared and the mead flowed thick and sweetly
the Viking cheered as their king took the maid first as wife then to bed
weeping as she was ravished, he rode her like a bull until she bled badly
Back to the feast he downed some horns then lay down to sleep
the maid waited until all was silent and then into his heart she struck deep
she took back her shame as he lay dying knowing her own death she did reap
turning the dagger on herself her life no value she slipped into eternal sleep
4. Throne Groan
by Indiana Shaw
Ha ha ha – I am sat on the loo waiting to pass
Whilst reading the funnies I need more gas
Peoples humour is right up my street
Making us giggle is really quite neat
We need the humour to take us away
From the otherwise saddnesses of the day
So here I am on my throne in fits of laughter
Some poems are so funny they deserve a Bafa
Sod the sonnets that only win by love or grief
I need some more funnies to get some release
As I drum up some lines of those who died on the loo
While over excerting themselves while having a poo
Good old Edmund Ironsides got stabbed in the ass
From a viking who hid in the lav I thought was grass
Who must have been nose blind to put up with the gas
Cathrine the great a gonna wow the poor poor lass
Another famous name to have died on the throne
Whilst contemplating last nights meal with a groan
King George II hot chocolate in hand to ease it through
It didn’t worked mind as he was found dead on the loo
King Elvis Presley who did not quite make the grade
Was to be found on the bathroom floor he was laid
Don Simpson was another to end his life on the throne
Strange as can be reading a biography by Oliver Stone
At Glastonbury festival politician Christopher Shale
Found dead in a porta loo giving one out for the pale
So with pen and bog roll I sit and write my last rites
Just in case I should die here having my last shite
5. Viking
by Anonymous
There’s a crack in my windshield growing bigger by the day
It’s like a manifestation of the words I want to say
Your calm demeanor disrupts my flow
There’s more to you; there’s more to know
Of all the people I never would have guessed
And I’ve never been good at the marshmallow test
This change of pace I don’t quite get
Please kind sir, are you in love with me yet?
6. The Norseman
by John Greenleaf Whittier
Gift from the cold and silent Past!
A relic to the present cast,
Left on the ever-changing strand
Of shifting and unstable sand,
Which wastes beneath the steady chime
And beating of the waves of Time!
Who from its bed of primal rock
First wrenched thy dark, unshapely block?
Whose hand, of curious skill untaught,
Thy rude and savage outline wrought?
The waters of my native stream
Are glancing in the sun’s warm beam;
From sail-urged keel and flashing oar
The circles widen to its shore;
And cultured field and peopled town
Slope to its willowed margin down.
Yet, while this morning breeze is bringing
The home-life sound of school-bells ringing,
And rolling wheel, and rapid jar
Of the fire-winged and steedless car,
And voices from the wayside near
Come quick and blended on my ear,–
A spell is in this old gray stone,
My thoughts are with the Past alone!
A change!–The steepled town no more
Stretches along the sail-thronged shore;
Like palace-domes in sunset’s cloud,
Fade sun-gilt spire and mansion proud:
Spectrally rising where they stood,
I see the old, primeval wood;
Dark, shadow-like, on either hand
I see its solemn waste expand;
It climbs the green and cultured hill,
It arches o’er the valley’s rill,
And leans from cliff and crag to throw
Its wild arms o’er the stream below.
Unchanged, alone, the same bright river
Flows on, as it will flow forever!
I listen, and I hear the low
Soft ripple where its water go;
I hear behind the panther’s cry,
The wild-bird’s scream goes thrilling by,
And shyly on the river’s brink
The deer is stooping down to drink.
But hark!–from wood and rock flung back,
What sound come up the Merrimac?
What sea-worn barks are those which throw
The light spray from each rushing prow?
Have they not in the North Sea’s blast
Bowed to the waves the straining mast?
Their frozen sails the low, pale sun
Of Thulë’s night has shone upon;
Flapped by the sea-wind’s gusty sweep
Round icy drift, and headland steep.
Wild Jutland’s wives and Lochlin’s daughters
Have watched them fading o’er the waters,
Lessening through driving mist and spray,
Like white-winged sea-birds on their way!
Onward they glide,–and now I view
Their iron-armed and stalwart crew;
Joy glistens in each wild blue eye,
Turned to green earth and summer sky.
Each broad, seamed breast has cast aside
Its cumbering vest of shaggy hide;
Bared to the sun and soft warm air,
Streams back the Northmen’s yellow hair.
I see the gleam of axe and spear,
A sound of smitten shields I hear,
Keeping a harsh and fitting time
To Saga’s chant, and Runic rhyme;
Such lays as Zetland’s Scald has sung,
His gray and naked isles among;
Or mutter low at midnight hour
Round Odin’s mossy stone of power.
The wolf beneath the Arctic moon
Has answered to that startling rune;
The Gael has heard its stormy swell,
The light Frank knows its summons well;
Iona’s sable-stoled Culdee
Has heard it sounding o’er the sea,
And swept, with hoary beard and hair,
His altar’s foot in trembling prayer!
‘T is past,–the ‘wildering vision dies
In darkness on my dreaming eyes!
The forest vanishes in air,
Hill-slope and vale lie starkly bare;
I hear the common tread of men,
And hum of work-day life again;
The mystic relic seems alone
A broken mass of common stone;
And if it be the chiselled limb
Of Berserker or idol grim,
A fragment of Valhalla’s Thor,
The stormy Viking’s god of War,
Or Praga of the Runic lay,
Or love-awakening Siona,
I know not,–for no graven line,
Nor Druid mark, nor Runic sign,
Is left me here, by which to trace
Its name, or origin, or place.
Yet, for this vision of the Past,
This glance upon its darkness cast,
My spirit bows in gratitude
Before the Giver of all good,
Who fashioned so the human mind,
That, from the waste of Time behind,
A simple stone, or mound of earth,
Can summon the departed forth;
Quicken the Past to life again,
The Present lose in what hath been,
And in their primal freshness show
The buried forms of long ago.
As if a portion of that Thought
By which the Eternal will is wrought,
Whose impulse fills anew with breath
The frozen solitude of Death,
To mortal mind were sometimes lent,
To mortal musing sometimes sent,
To whisper–even when it seems
But Memory’s fantasy of dreams–
Through the mind’s waste of woe and sin,
Of an immortal origin!
Viking Poems for Kids
There are many Viking poems for children out there that are designed specifically for younger readers, offering a fun and engaging way to learn about this unique culture.
1. Wax Viking
by Gregory Paul Dancer
I want to melt a wax Viking,
with a piece of sword shaped kindling.
Watch the face drip, sag run into a
droopy frown of fluid features.
To saw the head from a celebrity mannequin.
Watch fall it to the floor,
with it’s perfect teeth and face;
plastic smooth skin.
Almost as plastic and smooth as the “real” thing.
To tear the words from the mouth
of a liar, cheat, chancer and con-man.
Rearrange the words to spell out the truth.
watch the eyes and puffy face spasm,
as if possessed by a phantasm.
2. Carried on the Horse of a Viking God
by Nivek
Summer has bloomed.
Carried on the horse of a Viking god.
Drying fields, food for cattle,
and men. Working feverishly
to bring the harvest in. All now is
golden as the Summer Sun runs
valiant across the skies. The barley
corn will fill the whiskey vats full.
Full for the drinking the long dark winter
through the black of days and black of nights
in the feasting halls of men and gods the golden Sun will stay.
3. Dublin
by James Fredholm
Two days in,
Me and you,
Hard celtic
Strays betray
No truth, stone,
shrine or statue,
Viking hearts and
Weathered youth,
Healing green eyes,
How I love you.
Your streets lure me
Like arteries to heart,
Through our Troubles,
Together, home.
Viking Poems about Life
Viking poems often explore the meaning of life, touching on themes such as fate, destiny, and the passage of time. These poems offer a unique perspective on the human experience, reminding us of the timeless questions and concerns that have plagued us for centuries.
1. A Norse Lad
by Oscar H. Roesner
He watches the great ships swinging
Like birds on the tide’s vast flow,
And out of the past swift winging
Come visions that grip and glow—
Fierce fights of forgotten rover,
Adventurous deeds and bold
Of ancestors who sailed over
Grim seas with some Viking old;
And stirred by an old, old longing,
An urge that dead ages fling,
He thrills to memories thronging
Of some long gone old sea king,
And dreams with a deep emotion
Of wonderful days to be
When he sails over the ocean
A thrall to its mystery.
2. Fire on the Ohio River
by Eric Ashford
My boat rocks gently under a reddening sun,
is it wrong to wish for a Viking burial,
to ponder a last journey West
into the dying light?
Strangers have always been my friends,
they intuit
the liquid and inflammable nature
of this thing we do.
I could rest my soul here in this skiff
on this one long warm wave of evening;
let the wooded lands and sloping meadows,
the dredged, smoke-stacked barge brimming ports,
the patched up river towns slip on by
under the kindling sails of evening clouds.
I am laid out like a homeless person
bundled up in my rags and tinder,
a shadow in a small boat, drifting.
Night falls to the water
the words of strangers flame high
fire starters and their poems gleaming
as the dark rushes in.
I hitch the boat to a stump of land,
still imagining a Viking funeral,
but also resigned to a tomorrow –
yet another strange place
to play with this fire.
3. Old Car
by Peter Lewis Holmes
It was like a fallen phoenix
Fired with rust and memories,
The body was open to the rooks,
Its ribbed, bare chassis, opened arms,
Unsure whether to defend or
Or make love to the falling sky
The radiator, home to busy insects,
Tiny carnivores, stood in sentinel,
A figurehead before the rotten mast;
For where had once been pedals
Now gaped rusty sink holes,
Observers to the oily brew below
Sans wheels to show; wheels once
Rolled, on busy metalled roads,
Where policemen, eagle-eyed
Checked for wily gangsters, riding
On the leather seats inside: now
Rat food gone to ratty- hell, amid
The scrub and surrounds, tilted
Viking coffin, waiting for heat and
Cleansing, cracking-fire, opening
Doors to buckled, automotive rest
4. The Strategist
by Y Jai Garg
Aloof on the battle field her combat skill cries,
Irish blood runs wild with little inebriation,
Indian warrior counts coup in feather stories,
Russian Viking lines in dormant breeding.
Duchess plays nature with tulip aroma,
Creative Polish gene encounters blush with pink,
A wild thing as the spirits seduces her faith;
Tempting to redo her life’s aspirations?
Touch me not with your hate for I am no kin;
Hold me to thy lips with love so we may sin.
Viking Poems about Love
Like many cultures, the Vikings had their own unique take on love and romance. Viking love poems often celebrate the beauty and strength of women, as well as the bonds of loyalty and devotion between partners.
1. Cooling Flame
by Kristi Hayner
my sis & her man
falling from the kissing tree
after 5 s0me’ years
how blind love can be
you are all up off in it
news sure blinded me
the mixing of oil
and water can only float
for just so long, eh?
not be taking sides
for there is no 1 to blame
she’s lost her Viking
lost his Texas belle
matches sometimes made in hell
sad the cooling flame
2. The Viking’s Daughter
by Isadore Baker
Venus above the wave,
Daughter of Viking brave,
Who to all welcome gave,
Save to thy lover;
Lover awaiting thee
Far over Northern sea,
Heart all aflame for thee
As for none other.
Message I’ll send to thee,
Sea-birds shall wend to thee,
Winged lilies lend to thee
Some of their fragrance;
List to their whisper low,
Gulls white as drift of snow.
Fearing nor friend nor foe,
Birds of brave vagrance.
They shall my message bring,
They of unwearied wing,
Scorn not thy offering,
Daughter of Viking:
WhUe I, in this new world,
I, as in vortex whirled,
By fate or chance am hurled,
My fortune seeking.
Is this thine history,
Maiden of mystery,
Sea-swans to whisper thee
News of thy lover?
Lover awaiting thee,
Far over Northern sea,
Heart all aflame for thee
As for none other.
Art thou a phantom proud,
Spirit of storm and cloud,
Never to mortal vowed,
Never troth-plighted?
Wear’st no ring of gold
From Lade’s temple old,
Ring of King Olaf bold,
Jewel love-lighted.
Or, but a vision sweet—
Dawning from wave to greet
Eyes that with thine may meet
Love’s own expression;
Speak thou, O maid of mist!
Oft by the tempest kissed,
Speak! for we fain would list
Thy naive confession.
3. Your Sweet Face
by Ann Foster
The first thing I see
looking at me,
are your eyes.
Like the deep of space,
grabbing my soul,
and sending it outward,
beyond.
Where I do not know…
as I am lost.
I remember your smile like the sun.
It brought me back home,
to where the Earth and stars,
collide above, and explode at random,
and, or, ever at your pleasure.
The frame of your visage is strong;
Indian Princess,
Viking Queen,
Fairy Love,
Mermaid of the Isle.
Let me live long enough,
to die for you.
Let me live long enough,
to bring you the happiness
you have brought me,
by just being…
you!
4. The Last Love Letter
by Liliya Zagorski
I have promised you everything in the world
But I cannot promise that this
Will be my last love letter to you.
I will write this sonnet
To you
Though you will never read it.
I’m sorry that our end
Came this way
We cannot change our fates.
I will say farewell to
Your memory by way of a
Viking funeral.
Our love will burn forever
Until it reaches the shores of Valhalla
5. Viking’s Horn
by Subimal Sinha-Roy
There was once a Santa Claus, a Viking
Reindeer driving his sleigh were all sickling
His ride went helter-skelter
Two broke their love-locked antler
Why he donned these as horns he’d no inkling.
Old Norse Viking Poems
The Old Norse language was the language of the Vikings, and many Viking poems were written in this ancient tongue. These poems offer a glimpse into the unique linguistic and cultural heritage of the Viking people.
1. Please Don’t Leave Me Here
by Laurence A.
Build me a slow boat to Timbuktu via China
Heave down a fleecy cloud and let me float to Nirvana
Hunt me a unicorn and let me ride to the Enchanted Forest
Find me a giant eagle and let it lift me to Outer Mongolia East
‘please don’t leave me here amongst demons with human faces’
Show me a Church and I’ll show you a hall full of Sinners
Point out a wife and I’ll reveal a liar and a fake and none dimer
Call a Doctor and its a Monster who betrayed the Hippocratics
That Government Boss is a cruel heinous snake without ethics
‘please don’t leave me here amongst demons with human faces’
See that Preacher and see a spineless hypocrite back-stabber
That lover was nothing but a sick deranged false **** twister
My dear acquaintance a heartless corrupted shyster unhinged
A Newsagent full of pitiless, gloomy, vile, psychotic joy-suckers
‘please don’t leave me here amongst demons with human faces’
That friend of years a bloodsucking Judas who betrayed and stole
Uncles who rained terror with sadistic pleasures in parts unwhole
Show me nieces and find two-faced ******* with poisons in veins
Neighborhoods full of silent killers and Rapists of truthful genes
‘please don’t me leave here amongst demons with human faces’
A vicars’ daughter wielding angst axes better than a viking
The pathetic Moors zombies tearing flesh on masters beholding
The dead-eyed Arabs salivating madly or at daggers drawn
Contemptible Men-kids with pin ****** used as King’s pawns
‘please don’t leave me here amongst demons with human faces’
Build me a cottage in rolling green fields with blue skies
Find me a fair maiden with a true heart and warming smiles
Show me a place that holds fairness and justice real and dear
A world with humanity we’re all sisters and brothers for care
‘please don’t leave me here amongst demons with human faces’
2. The Skeleton in Armor
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
“Speak! speak! thou fearful guest!
Who, with thy hollow breast
Still in rude armor drest,
Comest to daunt me!
Wrapt not in Eastern balms,
But with thy fleshless palms
Stretched, as if asking alms,
Why dost thou haunt me?”
Then, from those cavernous eyes
Pale flashes seemed to rise,
As when the Northern skies
Gleam in December;
And, like the water’s flow
Under December’s snow,
Came a dull voice of woe
From the heart’s chamber.
“I was a Viking old!
My deeds, though manifold,
No Skald in song has told,
No Saga taught thee!
Take heed, that in thy verse
Thou dost the tale rehearse,
Else dread a dead man’s curse;
For this I sought thee.
“Far in the Northern Land,
By the wild Baltic’s strand,
I, with my childish hand,
Tamed the gerfalcon;
And, with my skates fast-bound,
Skimmed the half-frozen Sound,
That the poor whimpering hound
Trembled to walk on.
“Oft to his frozen lair
Tracked I the grisly bear,
While from my path the hare
Fled like a shadow;
Oft through the forest dark
Followed the were-wolf’s bark,
Until the soaring lark
Sang from the meadow.
“But when I older grew,
Joining a corsair’s crew,
O’er the dark sea I flew
With the marauders.
Wild was the life we led;
Many the souls that sped,
Many the hearts that bled,
By our stern orders.
“Many a wassail-bout
Wore the long Winter out;
Often our midnight shout
Set the cocks crowing,
As we the Berserk’s tale
Measured in cups of ale,
Draining the oaken pail,
Filled to o’erflowing.
“Once as I told in glee
Tales of the stormy sea,
Soft eyes did gaze on me,
Burning yet tender;
And as the white stars shine
On the dark Norway pine,
On that dark heart of mine
Fell their soft splendor.
“I wooed the blue-eyed maid,
Yielding, yet half afraid,
And in the forest’s shade
Our vows were plighted.
Under its loosened vest
Fluttered her little breast,
Like birds within their nest
By the hawk frighted.
“Bright in her father’s hall
Shields gleamed upon the wall,
Loud sang the minstrels all,
Chanting his glory;
When of old Hildebrand
I asked his daughter’s hand,
Mute did the minstrels stand
To hear my story.
“While the brown ale he quaffed,
Loud then the champion laughed,
And as the wind-gusts waft
The sea-foam brightly,
So the loud laugh of scorn,
Out of those lips unshorn,
From the deep drinking-horn
Blew the foam lightly.
“She was a Prince’s child,
I but a Viking wild,
And though she blushed and smiled,
I was discarded!
Should not the dove so white
Follow the sea-mew’s flight,
Why did they leave that night
Her nest unguarded?
“Scarce had I put to sea,
Bearing the maid with me,
Fairest of all was she
Among the Norsemen!
When on the white sea-strand,
Waving his armed hand,
Saw we old Hildebrand,
With twenty horsemen.
“Then launched they to the blast,
Bent like a reed each mast,
Yet we were gaining fast,
When the wind failed us;
And with a sudden flaw
Came round the gusty Skaw,
So that our foe we saw
Laugh as he hailed us.
“And as to catch the gale
Round veered the flapping sail,
‘Death!’ was the helmsman’s hail,
‘Death without quarter!’
Mid-ships with iron keel
Struck we her ribs of steel;
Down her black hulk did reel
Through the black water!
“As with his wings aslant,
Sails the fierce cormorant,
Seeking some rocky haunt,
With his prey laden,—
So toward the open main,
Beating to sea again,
Through the wild hurricane,
Bore I the maiden.
“Three weeks we westward bore,
And when the storm was o’er,
Cloud-like we saw the shore
Stretching to leeward;
There for my lady’s bower
Built I the lofty tower,
Which, to this very hour,
Stands looking seaward.
“There lived we many years;
Time dried the maiden’s tears;
She had forgot her fears,
She was a mother;
Death closed her mild blue eyes,
Under that tower she lies;
Ne’er shall the sun arise
On such another!
“Still grew my bosom then,
Still as a stagnant fen!
Hateful to me were men,
The sunlight hateful!
In the vast forest here,
Clad in my warlike gear,
Fell I upon my spear,
Oh, death was grateful!
“Thus, seamed with many scars,
Bursting these prison bars,
Up to its native stars
My soul ascended!
There from the flowing bowl
Deep drinks the warrior’s soul,
Skoal! to the Northland! skoal!”
Thus the tale ended.
3. Julia Barnard
by J.L Chandler
Sofia’s love was like a viking as she tore apart
She grappled with her demons as she swept each basking heart
A gangster fairy tale betrothed upon her arm
A fleeting evening and a trip out of the dark
Four hundred dollar bills as token of your love
The glamour and the fame; the glitter and the game
If one could bear the grime and snare
Of the homestead that she came to bare
You would still pay for her charm
4. Viking Me
by Robert Lawrence
Viking me, I want to be
warrior culture, decadent vulture
plunder & pillage, every village
navigate the sea, longboat to be
clash of steel, organic feel
Viking Me, I want to be
impenetrable shield wall, kingdom fall
Valhalla bound nomads, Victorious death glad
Discovery of Vinland, Vigilance of Norse man
Expedition by Erichson, conquest by Self assertion
Viking me, I want to be
slayer of Saxons, settle in Briton
cognizant of victory, details are gory
bringing cathartic terror, no maidens fairer
discernment of Odin’s Eye, Viking battle cry
Viking me, I want to be
Winter harvest feast, sacrifice the beast
preserve Heathen blood, The Christian flood
warlike mind, one of a kind
unstoppable force, ultra-violent source
5. The Romance of a Viking Funeral
by Danny O’Sullivan
The shoreline bites at the toes of attendees,
watching the little appendages curl up together.
The footprints there have been etched into fossils,
the sand crunching together and sounding like
echoes of war cries and whispered endearments.
The raft is loaded. The time is traced.
A caterpillar in a chrysalis hums a love song,
glows with the light of ‘vita vita vita’ as
the gathering crowds taste dead languages.
Children eat from lunch boxes carved with runes.
Sometimes a glipse of twenty years is caught,
a journal is forced open by the wind; it’s pages
creak, the voices from the world’s coffins
that have been wrenched open start a hymn
and the songs pile up in our ears as dust.
Those who are do not mourn titter respectfully
as men in white coats try to push the raft
into the water, but you were so lovably stubborn.
You always returned and even here you knew it;
your final laugh was filtered through sign language.
I step forward and push, float you off into
the water, put my fingers over the candle and
over the lips of dead kings as masses shoot the sky.
The match roars and your raft gasps as it burns,
old things being laid to rest and new ones kindling.
Sorry dears this is the revised version! I thought I was happy with it but obviously not, hope this one is better!
Viking Poems about War
The Vikings were known for their prowess in battle. These poems often touch on themes such as courage, sacrifice, and the bonds of brotherhood between warriors.
1. The Mighty Viking Men
by Angela Purves
The Norsemen rowed in Dragon boats
And sailed the mighty seas
Through howling winds and snarling waves
They prayed to Thor for guidance
The Vikings travelled far and wide
To find their willing victims
One look at these men armed with swords
And they knew their days were numbered!
The Berserkas is there other name
And plundering was their game
A flash of steel was all it took
And untold riches came their way
2. I’m a Warrior, a Viking
by Liam Kennedy
I’ve encountered many battles, I’m currently at war
Giving up is something that I simply don’t stand for
I’m a warrior, a viking, it’s in my DNA
I’ve been PTSD and Depression free for the past two hundred days
Just because my mind is free does not mean the hard work stops
I’ll still lead my life with positivity, my high standards will not drop
I must be ready for anything, i must be prepared
When my illness posed a threat, war was what I declared
I’m battle hardened, i was built for this
My inner strength helped drag me straight from the abyss
During my moment of crisis, I never had much time
I had to start moving, my instincts told me to climb
I’m grateful for the struggle, it helped me to transform
The way I fought back and went on the attack was just like an art form
What didn’t kill me made me stronger, my mindset had been changed
The thoughts inside my mind had been restructured and rearranged
I liked this new way of thinking, I felt so Incredibly strong
My illness told me I was a failure, I was determined to prove it wrong
Every day I was so positive, I took the power away from my depression
I had the perfect answer each time I was asked a question
My illness begs me to stop, each day I twist the knife
It is now my prisoner, it no longer has a life
I have built momentum, so much progress has been made
Hard work and dedication are the two things that I’ve displayed
My journey has been difficult, it’s been quite the test
It’s taught me to keep working hard and to always try my best
I’ve overcome adversity, I’ve conquered my fears
I’m now solely focused on helping each one of my peers
3. The Horned Helmet of the Dawn
by Serge Lyrewin
The horned helmet of the dawn has met my sight
They’re shouting loudly, that I’m wrong – I’m right
The sky is putting on the armour of mournful clouds
I’m man with weapon I’m not farmer let someone shouts.
I’ve taken sword with hand of vengeance I’ve taken shield
I’ve never seen the kind angels and I have built
the ship to sail in land of Glory to seek and find
And maybe I will tell this story for famous Skald.
The morning’s giving me direction to be the One
I’m waiting so for satisfaction my will be done
I carry woes and pain and fury on peak of sword
I want to win I want it truly to be the lord.
I’ll share the blood without the weeping there is no choice
I hear myself that death is creeping I hear the noise
of battle and I kill with smile I’m tough as stone
I see the dead they stand like file I see the dawn.
4. The Last Viking
by Jan Oskar Hansen
There had been a war in my part of the world, peace there is never one,
people fight wars in other parts of the world more brutal than ever before.
The first winter of peace was the coldest anyone old could remember and
ducks feet froze on the ice they could not move and became prey to rats
and human scum who threw stones at the ducks satisfying a biblical instinct.
A tree in the park had fallen and a skeleton was discovered it was to be
excavated the next day, but it disappeared I think it had reassembled itself
broken into a dress shop and covered his bones with the skin of dead people.
A long very thin man had been observed outside a lady`s lingerie shop late
one evening, masturbating, what else to do after being dead under a tree for
five hundred years.
At a museum in the Isle of Man, I saw the thumb of a Viking in a glass cage
within a glass cage surrounded by precious objects ladies wore at the time
It was pathetic there he was fighting and living not knowing his thumb would
live forever in a tiny glass cage
5. A War Song Shall Be Sung
by Andrew McIntyre
A song will be sung as war descends
Calling on Gods invisible hand
Enemies horde crushed underfoot
With no knowledge of why they came.
Ships harboured in the bay
Like sleeping sea serpents did they lay
While out in the fields they gathered hay
Never sensing where or what in the future lay.
Horns and shouts destroyed the silence
Swords and spears opened up the hearts
Souls departed and flew away
Never knowing why they died that way.
Golden harvest turned to red
Lika setting sun at end of day
Left to rot alone and discarded
Never made into bread for the departed.
A song was sung as serpents awoke
Slipping away under burning smoke
Back to the depths of what hell they came
Never to return that way again.
Viking Poems about Death
These Viking funeral poems offer a unique perspective on the human experience, reminding us of the fragility and impermanence of life.
1. My Viking Funeral
by Ralph Sergi
When that day comes that I will die
Dress me in the finest clothes
Patterned from ecru silken threads
In contrast with my hazel eyes
As the sun sets west and reflects
upon the sea so warm and blue
Place me in a sailing craft
Hand carved from exquisite teak
Surround me with my memories
My keepsakes and my written words
When the tide goes out to join the sea
please set my sails all pointed east
Aim and shoot a flaming shaft
To pierce the boat set it aflame
And consume me on my final quest
to delve into my watery nest
When the last flame is extinguished,
Retrieve my ashes from the craft
And place them in an marble jar
And toss them in the ocean deep
My life has always been mundane
I never lived to seize the day
My luck and judgements never meshed
My essence nor my core refreshed
To take a trip in such a way
To be remembered on that day
Will seal the memory of my death
When I have breathed my final breath
2. The Vikings’ Grave
by Anonymous
Very quietly they sleep,
Where the cliffs stand, grim and steep;
Where the shadows, long and cool,
From the side of great Berule,
Sweeping from the changing sky,
As the silent days go by,
Touch at last the ceaseless waves,
Thundering ‘neath the Vikings’ graves.
Fitting requiem do they make,
As they gather, roll and break,
For the warrior kings of man,
Who, as only Islesmen can,
Loved the glory and the glee
Of the ever-changing sea;
Drew from her their stormy breath,
Sought her for the calm of death.
Very quietly they rest,
With the green turf on their breast;
Mace, and blade, and mighty shield,
Arms that they alone could wield,
Notched and browned by blow and rust,
Lying silent by their dust,
Who in the sweet sunny Isle,
Held thtir own by them erewhile.
Chance and change have swept away
Relics of the elder day.
Like the tiny “Church of Treen,”
Ruins tell of what has been;
Times of prayer and praise devout,
Times of furious fray and rout,
Times of royal pageantry,
Passed away—and here they lie.
Solemnly, to quiet graves,
Rowed across the subject waves
To their last homes Vikings came,
With songs of triumph and acclaim;
Then Berule looks grimly down
On hero dead, on forfeit crown,
On chanting monk, and sail, and prow,
Even as he watches now.
“Peace,” says the stranger as he stands,
Gazing o’er the golden sands,
Where, with endless crash and shock,
Breakers surge round Niarbyl Rock;
Where the sea-mews sweep and cry;
Where Fleshwick towers to the sky;
Where Bradda rears his giant head;
“Peace be with the mighty dead.”
3. Viking Funeral
by Russell W Nailor
Today we say goodbye
As your ashes leave
Toward the sky
We’ll meet again
In Valhalla high
Beyond the clouds
In the sky
And though this be
The day you die
We’ll meet again
In another life
Beyond the sorrow
War and strife
And drink by
Odin’s side
For now I must leave
To join the battle still
To bring the giants
To their knees
Gods help me
If I’m killed
The smell of fire
The touch of steel
Onward to foreign lands
They’ll run in fear
When see our flag
And give in to demands
Still rival factions
Will come at us
With fire and sharpened still
We’ll honor you
Oh
My father
Our path
Be straight and true.
4. Viking Grave
by Francie Lynch
I’ve been at hundreds of funerals
Standing beside Fathers
Soon to be posted to Peru
Or to missions for black African babies.
They’d sprinkle caskets like Spring rains,
Burn incense to smudge the dead
With rising smoke signals.
Sounding the advance.
I witnessed pain in the front pews,
The kneelers with thin cushioning.
I prayed fervently for a whosh of wind
To sweep behind me,
Billow my soutane,
And lift the lid;
Prayed for the candle flame to flare,
For the body to rise
As Rathgar did.
He was a faker.
Not like what I saw.
Up close.
On Friday mornings.
5. Viking Funeral
by David Welch
Viking, Viking burning bright,
on a pyre in the night,
though the wind howls and bites,
this funeral is out-of-sight!
Through the cold and falling snow,
on the lake your fire glows,
the ships combusts, and now I know
this here is how I want to go.
Final Thoughts
Viking poetry is a fascinating glimpse into the culture, beliefs, and values of the Norse people who lived more than a thousand years ago.
From epic tales of battle and heroic deeds to intimate reflections on love and death, Viking poems cover a wide range of themes and emotions.
Whether you’re interested in history, poetry, or simply looking to broaden your cultural horizons, there’s a Viking poem out there for you.
Reading and studying poems about Viking can deepen our understanding of this unique culture and its lasting impact on the world.
These poems continue to inspire and captivate readers to this day.
