A Young Person's Guide to Anglo-Saxon Poetry

My translations of Wendish seafaring discourses from the Anglo-Saxon are awaiting publication. The companies I have approached have been, alas, steadfast in refusal, and many have been quick to point out that both my style and subject are antique and irrelevant. One saucy fellow described my work as 'irredeemably at odds with the preferences of today's reading public.'

'Problem is, it's crap,' he added charmlessly. I think they are all quite wrong; in the meantime, it occurred to me that young people these days might take a dear pleasure in writing their own alliterative poetry, yet are inclined to hold this particular verse-form at a little distance. The narrator's CV in any Anglo-Saxon poem can seem a little daunting: most have fought/lost/been maimed in at least two full-scale epic battles; many have wandered the earth for an unaccountable period of time, meditating on their own terrible grief and physical discomfort; few have not buried most or all of their friends, lovers, liege-lords and family members; one or two even begin to show signs of critical mental illness.

Apart from the alliterative technique which is easily mastered, there is a fairly steady formula for Anglo-Saxon verse:

1) Choose your setting. There are only really three options open to you, which makes this a pretty painless choice. You can choose either a) the aftermath of a horrific battle or b) a small boat hopelessly lost miles out at sea or c) a dream in which the narrator converses with a valuable holy relic. All settings will compel the narrator to dwell diseasedly on dead companions and personal misery, so your choice will only have implications for your poem's scenery and decorative imagery.

2) Marshal your cliches. Here is a list of stock words and phrases that constitute the bulk of any Anglo-Saxon poem. Repetition of any or all of them should give your poem that sense of tedious, self-indulgent lamentation that is the trademark of all Old English verse: 'noble/brave/beloved kinsman', 'freezing waves', 'bitter sorrows', 'breast-cares', breast-companions', 'breast-chamber', 'miserable', 'grieving', 'far from home', 'generous lord', 'covered over with earth/snow/frost (or all three)'.

3) Leave room for considerable ambiguity in the text. This is not strictly a criterion of Anglo-Saxon poetry, or even of poetry in general, and prosecution of this advice will In No Way improve the quality of your (in most cases) decidedly amateurish poetry. However, years from now when the accidental series of events that constituted your life are scrutinised by the fickle vulture of posterity, your poems will receive greater attention and critical acclaim if they prove 'difficult'. See the poetry of William Empson for conclusive evidence that this is the case.