New Occidental Poetry

Wotan's Plea

God of wisdom and of war,
gave us the runes and sired Thor.
His ravens o’er Midgard fly,
watching us from Asgard’s skies.

Great warriors in death are called
to feast with him in his great hall.
The Folk worldwide, his sons and daughters,
give respect our All-father.

But from his eye there falls a tear
for the fate that looms so near.
The warriors have lost their might,
his children have no will to fight.

The Folk have clearly lost their way.
And though the threat is clear as day,
our people hide their heads in sand
lacking courage to take a stand.

Where are the genes we did inherit
from the mighty men of merit?
The blood of Vikings in my veins flows.
But, in my kinfolk… I do not know.

Weakness and cowardice they portray.
Their own ancestors they now betray.
Perhaps they are in too much shock
to see that this is Ragnarok!

We must unite, and we must fight!
Or usher in our own twilight.
For our children's sake, Wotan implores.
The Folk must stand, and we must roar!

- Carolyn Emerick - you can find her projects at