My Mythology: Dragonscale Delvings, #2

By Freya Pickard

Lift the veil on Freya's creativity in this fantastical volume of poetry.

 

Discover Freya's sources of inspiration from childhood. Find out what makes her tick as a writer. See what kinds of poetry she enjoys writing.

 

And get to understand her more than anyone who knows her but doesn't read her poetry!

 

Freya employs a variety of poetical forms in this volume to explore the themes of King Arthur, vampires, werewolves, dragons, unicorns, zombies and a host of other fantastical creatures!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Freya Pickard
• Release date: Feb 7, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386374749

Freya Pickard

Pushcart Prize nominee, Freya Pickard, is the quirky, unusual author of The Kaerling series, an epic fantasy set in the strange and wonderful world of Nirunen. A cancer survivor, she writes mainly dark fantasy tales and creates expressive poetry in order to leach the darkness from her soul. Her aim in life is to enchant, entertain and engage with readers through her writing. She finds her inspiration in the ocean, the moors, beautifully written books and vinyl music (particularly heavy metal and rock). She enjoys Hatha Yoga, Bhangra and Yogalates and in her spare time creates water colours and pastel drawings of the worlds in her head.

Book preview

My Mythology

FIRST PUBLISHED 2018.

Copyright © by Freya Pickard 2018

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without permission of the publishers.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form whether printed or electronic other than that in which it is published.

Any resemblance to real people, whether living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover design by Jonathon B. Hoyt.

Kombmaker's Poetry used with kind permission.

for JulesPaige

from sinister night

to ecstasies of light ...

your mythology

may be different from mine

read on and discover what makes me,

Freya

Mystery

There's the Arch of Metatarsal,

And a gate called Jubilee,

With the Est'line Wall and Doghouse

And a brilliant Schumac Tree,

There's the Garden of the Guinea Pigs

And the Corner Rockery -

Strange sounds, these hidden nouns,

Yet these are Home to me.

And the tall green Wall of Leylandii

Protects from the Shambling Road,

So Tina laughs and Dragons sing,

And Monks compose an ode;

While under the arbour small,

Over which a Sky Blue wave has flowed,

Full of Grace our offspring sits

Shedding her creative load.

Here in the midst of our inventions,

Cradled in The Fecundity,

Etched in Earth under a Summer Sky

In this Shadow of Reality,

With Bumbus Terrestris and Mistletoe

Her only company,

Sun baked brown she scribbles down

Her Mythology.

© Kombmaker 1990

ROOTS

The Dancing Country

Swimming in the roiling depths

Of a molten, unformed sea

Dancer stretches high above

Reaches to infinity.

Parts the heaving waters and

Forms a world within their midst

Tames the raging tide and speaks

Words of creativity.

Life begins and forward moves

Dancer strides his new-formed world

Where his feet fall valleys bloom

Reflecting his divinity.

Graceful sweeps of arm and hand

Push the mountains higher yet

Fingers sculpt the hardened stone

Showing his ability.

Standing on a fertile plain

Water rushing from his feet

He cries tears of suns and moons

Proof of his vitality.

Laughing in his joy of life

Stars flow from his open lips

At his feet a lake has formed

His world, his fecundity.

Next he steps in long, low strides

Calling creatures from the soil

Each one he names has its own

Individuality.

Returning to the ocean

Dancer swims through salty sea

In his wake fishes burst in

Colours of vividity.

When he reaches land again

He leaps with great energy

As he jumps and turns in air

Birds find their nativity.

Thus the earth and air and sea

Teem with his creation free

Dancing, singing, many cries

Proof of his virility.

Treading softly on the hills

He makes snow fall in a dance

Stepping faster he spreads frost

White in its fragility.

Moving quickly through the sky

Herds the rain to soak the earth

With great punctuality.

Laughing loudly - clouds dissolve

Let the suns shine once again

He is centre

The Dancer

Will be

For Eternity.

Cave Above Rydal Water

Climbing the hill, leaving behind

The wind ruffled surface of Rydal Water.

Ahead, a vast maw opens, a thing of blackness

Swallowing light, absorbing all, reflecting nothing.

Hesitating before the entrance pool,

I peer into the gloom, see water

Slipping ceaselessly down shadowed, rugged walls.

Picking my way across the stepping stones

I turn my back on hot sun and blue sky.

This is another world entirely –

Darkness and damp, a place where water drips constantly,