The youthful maiden
toying with the threaded tapestry
of fate with her two sisters
about her, behooved the hero
to take up title and sword.

She said to win himself a place at the table —
the head of the table —
where he could recount the glorious
battle that leads to greatest honor.

“For what is worth the price of life,”
she asked with her palm, cool
against his sunburned cheek,
“If not to be gambled with?”

Fool that he was,
he thought himself in love,
and listened.


Author: redgladiola

Creative writer happily predisposed to flights of fancy. You can find my poetry and short prose at

6 thoughts on “Valhalla”

  1. If he didn’t listen, he would not have been honored in this poem. Might have lived long and healthy, but for what? To regret never taking a chance at glory?

    1. The last stanza shows the narrator thinks he did it for love and not for personal glory. It’s implied that this poem isn’t an honor to the “hero” but a cautionary tale. I’m glad it evoked such a response though! Thanks for sharing your opinion.

      1. Hey! Your opinion is perfectly valid! There’s no such thing as better. Plus who knows what the hero was actually thinking. *hugs*

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