My Poem “Badges”

There are some people
who like wearing badges,
there are some people
who like collecting badges,
and there are some people
who like some badges
over other badges
because what they symbolize
has a personal and profound

Some of the most iconic badges,
icons, logos, and catchphrases
have been passed down from
generation to generation,
from person to person,
and they have outlived others –
sometimes through reinterpretation –
because they say so much
at the same time as being as
succinctly simple as the symbol
of an arrow pointing skywards,
a cross, a star, a heart, a lightning bolt,
or the unification of multitude
of many colours.

There are some badges
that are instantly recognizable
and when they are seen to be worn
by someone in particular
there is an immediate moment of recognition and response…
there are badges that signify
a certain level of competence,
there are badges that advertise
that someone is the member
of a particular group of people,
there are badges that people
wear proudly because they
are a touchstone for experiences
that over time will continue to
mean more and more,
there are badges that people
over their lifetime know
without question
have something to do with
health, wealth, music,
or perhaps with upholding the law.

We are constantly surrounded
by timeless iconography
that has it’s own story to tell
about where it came from,
what it means, where it leads,
and if it is worn what the person
wearing it believes –
and since the time that the first
cave paintings were created
many different universal motifs
and insignias have found their way into
the collective human consciousness,
and over time those same
symbolic gestures have become
necessary ways and forms
of identification and communication
that connects individuals
with other people who also
like to wear the same shape,
colour, and clearly identifiable
and recognizable badges.

My Poem ‘Thor’s Hammer’

The summer heat breaks…
there is a change in the weather…
the clouds are gathering…
a bolt of lightning from the sky
strikes the ground and makes the Earth shake…
the world falls deadly-silent…
before there is the most almighty sound
of deafening thunder.

Odin’s son, Thor – the god of thunder –
is wielding his weapon…
the favourite son of Asgard
is awakening in Viking heaven…
a power as old as time
surges through the veins of the chosen one…
the energy of life-itself invigorates
and binds the god to the hammer
and the hammer to the god.

It was willed that only one
who would be worthy
could ever pick up and wield
the weapon of destiny…
it was made a law of nature
that one could only use
such a divine conductor of change
if only they first have within their heart
an unconditional will to do what is right…
when the hammer of thunder was first forged
within it was laden and intertwined
a piece of timeless perfection
that could only be possibly witnessed
if you were to fly into and see
the heart of a star –
that which is so much more luminescent
than what we may think of as starlight…
Thor’s hammer is capable of leveling mountains –
but to the god of thunder it has no weight,
and he can do with it what he wishes
as freely as the author of epic poetry.

To wield the weapon of thunder,
to the son of Odin it is a great honour…
to have their name known alongside
that which like them is so mythic
they are almost magical,
to the prince of Asgard is happiness
the like of which only an outside observer,
or a worshiper of the old gods, can only wonder;
there have been many mythical symbols of fate
and epic power since time began
and stories were first conjured and spoken –
however, to me, there is no other grindstone
of fire, nor source of lightning,
with as much power
in every way, shape, and form,
as Mj√∂lnir – the one and only, Thor’s hammer.