An Anglo-Saxon Epic Poem….

Leogere the Liar (Written December ?, 2011)

Leogere the Liar, no man more lithe than he
Few men know this legend that Silver Tongue will be
His family is forgotten, his legacy is lost
Yet smiles remain on Small One’s face, for fame comes at a cost
He started as a pick thief, a man of no renown
No sign shown through to warn, no mark of what he’d found
But as the days passed slowly, as moments slithered by
The Silver Tongue grew bolder, his trickery more sly
He started to tell tales, to test his growing skill
He fooled the rich and poor alike, pervasive was his will
The Fabler filled up his façade of tumbling circus boy
So well that none suspected, none saw his favorite toys
In his jerkin bright and bold, both clinking quietly
Two matching blades of silver bright that shines portentously
Soon he gathered hundreds and lined his coat by blade
But only those who fought their bite, who felt their conscious fade
Only these reluctant few were destined to e’re know
That grin upon the Fabler’s face was framed there just for show
One day when he was ready, his skill no longer sparse
Small One left to journey, not lacking any farce
He made a life by offering his skills to all who ask
By blade or tale he worked, tenacious with each task
But it came that soon his cover of meek one up for hire
Was found and with his stakes at risk, his situation dire
The once undaunted Liar was roused to leave his home
For danger of defeat, for desire held to roam
The Gibing Gambler came unfazed, he took the gauntlet cunningly
And set his foes a challenge, crafted surreptitiously
Sly Slitherer had watched, had waited carefully
‘Till war was fast upon the land, left weak for all to see
And with him gone far from home, it fell for lack of him
But Bright Eyed One was long gone, gallivanting on a whim
‘Till one day he saw the Thief, the Silver Handed man
Who convinced him to strike home, to save the falling land
Taken by the Thief’s charisma, chastened by his loyalty
The Small One swore allegiance and held it faithfully
And by his side he fought, in small surprising band
Full of the rejected, of those rebuked by once loved land
They conquered in their conquest, thus saved the land condemned
The once forsaken group of long outcasted men
And they were largely thanked, accepted then once more
Though still they all had paid, for what could be paid for
But Leogere the Liar disappeared that day
What succumbed the tumbler, no man can surely say
All knew he lost his fighting arm, on battle field fair
Yet even then he was not found, in neither ground nor air
The Fabler lived on they say, the whispers tumble ‘round
He’s out among us now, though nowhere to be found
Of course the Silver Tongue is watching silently
Hidden in plain sight where none will ever see
The smile remains upon his face, for now his fame is bought
And he had earned it well, so warily he’d fought
His face is now forgotten, but his words are slow to fade
As his tale of daring deed is ever slowly made
The Silver Tongue is lithe, near legendarily
As Leogere the Liar had planned that it should be.


So, anybody read Beowulf recently? In my ancient literature class, after reading Beowulf we were told to write our own Anglo-Saxon epic poem. Now, for this project we were supposed to figure out what that meant from what we had just read. I did a little bit more research, but I basically didn’t know anything about Anglo-Saxon poetry, so, if anybody happens to know anything, please let me know if I was anywhere near the proper ballpark for this. =P

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