There is no place for me among the living
Long has the flame of vengeance burned in me
Burned for my father, struck down in ambush
Burned for my brothers, their white throats torn out
Burned for my twin, a wolf’s head in exile
Who avenges the Volsungs, sons of Odin?
There are only two, Sigmund and I, Signe
He forest-dwelling, bereft of best sword
The baneful glory-sword Siggeir longed for
New-made husband to me, my family slays
To lay his hands on Sigmund’s shining blade
There are only two, Sigmund and I, Signe
I, in the hall of my father’s slayer
I, in the bed of my brothers’ killer
I, so near yet unable to strike him
I, crafting weapons in my womb
Siggeir’s get sent to Sigmund, found too weak
Blades that broke on my brother’s hard anvil
I, in counsel with a volva, a witch,
I, my form exchanged for hers
I, to my brother’s forest dwelling
I, crafting weapons in my womb
Sinfjolti I made, Volsung blood in him
Inherit from mother and father both
Did not break on my brother’s hard anvil
Whetted needle-sharp to take Siggeir’s life
I, who opened the door of the hall to you
I, who returned your magic blade to you
I, who remembered her father’s dying
I, who created her husband’s slaying
Sigmund, brother, twin, last man of our line
I hear you call me out of the flaming hall
To rejoice with you in tonight’s vengeance
But too long have I burned with hot hatred
Fire consumed the sister you remember
Fair girl who warned Father against Siggeir
Who had not her sons slain nor twin deceived
She is years gone, and now I go with her
I will find her within the fiery hall
For there is no place for me among the living
----------------------
I thought that I borrowed the line "There is no place for me among the living" from a translation of Volsunga saga, but if so, I cannot find which one now. It's not in "The Story of the Volsungs", translated by William Morris and Eirikr Magnusson (Walter Scott Press, London, 1888), which is the easiest to find free edition online, at Project Gutenberg and sacred-texts.com. Henry Adams Bellows, who is my favorite of the old timey online translators, doesn't seem to have done Volsunga saga, just Poetic Edda, which doesn't reference Signe. It's not the Donald MacKenzie one on sacred-texts, either. ...maybe it's in my Penguin edition? Gasp, an actual book?!
This is a short re-telling of the story of Sigmond and Signe, from her point of view. The form is very free, with alliteration applied liberally but not really according to any rules (except perhaps by accident). Looks like there are mostly five stresses per line, but it's definitely not well-formed blank verse.
I wanted to see what would happen if I composed a poem a bit more freely. Almost every time I perform this, I get compliments.
The gold standard, I suppose, is to write good poetry while following a form. I've spent a lot of time developing technical proficiency with my forms, but I don't love a lot of my output. My humorous poems are good, but the others... ehhh, some hit, some miss. I wanted to give myself a little more room to find my unfettered voice and develop it, and then I can loop back to working more strictly inside a form.
