A narrative poem

Prologue
Forsaking I, to fend in the woods,
Undertaking trials of great peril,
Those Druid, beneath cloak and hood,
Caste off to scavenge as a feral,
I ran errands for my sacred leader,
Listened at his feet as he versed,
For my devotion, labelled a feeder,
On a sacrifice of blood was cursed,
Now, I crawl through the undergrowth,
Bone of my legs turned to jelly,
To slither in my wake, gods hear my oath,
Let grasses of sword pierce my belly,
If Toranos aid shall not strike thunder,
On the heads of the fickle Druid,
Villages reaped with fire and plunder,
Let their cries of forgiveness burn amid.
Lug the Legless
I laughed into the forest floor,
For my ears had tamed Druid knowledge,
To commune with the beasts of lore,
On advice of ancient trees, I forage,
Mastered beasts with shamanic howling,
Rode wild horses where their hooves tread,
Hillside was speckled with my wolves prowling,
Watchful eyes, whilst I rest my head,
In the burrow, where the shadows cackle,
Dare my treacherous tribe trample a leaf,
Will find vines to their ankles shackle,
Flesh be claimed by the woodlands teeth,
The children sing of the hermits cave,
He, whose occult whispers would possess,
To travel in the fertile deep was grave,
Lest you come across Lug the Legless.
Epilogue
Their armies came from across the seas,
A force so large, their fires ate the sky,
Footsteps shook free acorns from oak trees,
Land beneath their tents would wither and die,
Brave warriors painted in woad,
Fell under the eagle standard,
Blue skin trampled in red as they rode,
Cut down, be not the invaders pandered,
Albion gave herself to them,
Wealth of her earth sworn to new hands,
Fate, by long reaching arms condemn,
Tribal bands in once free, proud Celtic lands,
I danced mounted a boar by the fire,
A joy echoed on the forest wall,
Captured fulfilment of my desire,
Lug the Legless, outlived them all.
My response to the prompt by dVerse; Poetics: Exploring the Narrative Voice.

Lug; Proto-Celtic, believed to be from the Proto-Indo-European “leug”, meaning, to swear an oath.
Toranos; Proto-Celtic form of Taranis, god of thunder in Celtic Mythology.
Albion; from the Proto-Indo-European for “white”, is the earliest known name for the island of Britain, thought to be reference to the White Cliffs of Dover.

Original poem by © Darius the Mate
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Exploring mental and physical
Iver the boneless. Excellent, so well written.
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Thank you Rob
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This is gorgeously, gorgeously worded 😀 Wowww!!
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Thank you kind Sanaa
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So original! Enjoyed both poem and pictures!
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Thank you Tricia 😁
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Oh my ….. this is an epic poem! Great job, my friend!!!
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Thank you Helen 😌 you’re too kind!
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Not one, not two, but three extended sonnets: I’m impressed! Lug the Legless sounds like a formidable character. I love how you’ve woven the strands of history and myth in here.
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Thank you Ingrid, it was a very enjoyable, and interesting prompt.
I’ll be looking forward to your next one. 😊
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Thank you Darius 😊
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