Wahey! My alliterative-verse collection, TOLD BY FIRELIGHT IN TIMBERED HALLS was nominated for an Elgin Award! That's a lovely thing to wake up to.

I say, what a delightful afternoon it's been!

Thirteen years today since my mother's death. I still miss her dreadfully.

In came four rabbits as black as ink, carrying a small coffin on their shoulders.

space terrifies me but I'm very, very glad some people love it and aren't phobic of the endless black

I did it! I wrote a four-act marionette show in traditional alliterative verse, based on a Norse myth—a puppet edda if you will: THE LAY OF SCRATTA. (Illo by John Bauer, 1911)

The ancient Greeks and Roman performed marionette shows. The word for marionette was neurospaston, from neuros (string) and spao (to pull). Marionettists were called neurospastai (string-pullers) or thaumatopoioi (marvel-makers).

Live picture from Artemis II. The Earth looks small and everything on it unimportant. Everyone is fighting over a tiny dot in space.

The Rampant Hare bestows his blessings on the Pink Moon and first day of Eosturmonath!

I have an idea for an alliterative-verse marionette play, an Anglo-Saxon retelling (pre-telling?) of a Norse myth. Surely I shall be the first to attempt such a thing--the first and only puppet scop!

As an equinox offering, I sent the great pagan historian Ronald Hutton (with whom I correspond) a new alliterative poem, 'Éastranblót'. He replied: 'Lovely, Adam. I think I shall recite it to friends this weekend.' No greater praise!

Freyja's feline flight of fancy. (Emil Doepler, 1905)

Today’s cemetery quest: the grave of Hendrik van Gogh, the first cousin of the famous Vincent van Gogh (Hendrik’s father and Vincent’s father were brothers). He was buried in Lone Fir Cemetery, Portland, Oregon, after drowning in Guild Pond. Dis manibus.

I am revising my very first alliterative-verse poem, ‘The Lay of Géac Ettinfell’, a 134-line Old English-style retelling of ‘Jack the Giant-Killer’. When I wrote this poem, my knowledge of the metrics of AV was rudimentary, but since the story is dear to my heart, I wanted to versify it properly.

A rare picture of me as a child.

Laid up all day with a horribly painful migraine, the third in the last couple of weeks. I used to have a medication that worked quite well, but my health insurance replaced it with something else (probably because it's cheaper) which is completely ineffective. ☹️

The BLASPHEMERS PUNISHED; or, The NEW JERSEY DANCE of DEVILS. A horrid relation of FACTS which took place a few weeks ago in New Jerſey. (Boston, 1797)

Hey, a nice review of THE ETTINFELL OF BEACON HILL: zachgeorge1993.substack.com/.../the-etti.... There are whispers in the darkness of a sequel book--perhaps two...

I'm pleased to note that my poem "The Twilit Land" has been accepted for the next issue of WEIRD FICTION QUARTERLY! (Engraving of unknown attribution.)

Never mind the groundhog, let's hope Quentin the Quahog squirts right today! www.instagram.com/reels/C22Smh...

Ah, there are few things more delightful than fresh detachable shirt collars!

It is done! I have completed all thirteen of my ÉSALOFAS: Heathen Hymns to the Old Gods. I have written prayers to Wóden, Thunor, Lúca, Frówe, Ing, Hel, Háma, Gnorna, Tíw, Edgeong, Sigewynn, Éastre and Bældæg, all composed in accordance with the strictures of alliterative verse.

I have completed the eleventh of my alliterative-verse ’Heathen Hymns’—this one to Sigewynn (Sigyn). Almost done! My intention is to write thirteen: six to gods, six to goddesses and one to Lúca (Loki), who can be either.

My tenth alliterative ‘Heathen Hymn’ is a prayer to the goddess who keeps the golden apples of eternal youth, called Iðunn in Old Norse. My speculative Old English cognate is Edgeong (pronounced ‘Ed-young’), which means ‘again young’ or ‘rejuvenated’. I’d like a taste of your apples please!

I've finished composing an alliterative-verse prayer to Tíw (or Týr, if you prefer), the ninth of my 'Heathen Hymns'. I use the Saxon names of the gods (Wóden, Thunor, Tíw, etc.), but I'm writing the poems in such a way that the Norse names can be substituted without breaking the alliteration.

The Winter Solstice issue of Eternal Haunted Summer is live! My ballad "Jack's Land" appears here amongst a treasure trove of faerie poems penned by all manner of talented bards. eternalhauntedsummer.com/issues/winte...

A package from England arrived today! A box of THE LOVECRAFT ARMS chapbooks: poems (and typing) by me and artwork by the ridiculously talented Mutartis Boswell. If you would like one, I may be persuaded to strike a bargain…

Having written ones for Wóden and Thunor, I have now finished the third of my alliterative verse HEATHEN HYMNS: a hymn to Lúca (the Old English cognate for Loki). I'm quite pleased with this one! It is a paean to all tricksters. (Illustration by John Bauer.)

Here's a link to my presentation about tracking down H. P. Lovecraft's ancestors in Devon, England. Learn about Devil's Doors and clandestine rituals held by fugitive monks. It's free if you sign up: watch.eventive.org/.../6931307f...

My presentation about H. P. Lovecraft's English ancestors is part of this--in the "Streaming Extras" section watch.eventive.org/hplfilmfesti..., along with author readings by Nathan Carson, @andrewsfuller.com, Frances Pai and @johnshirley2024.bsky.social! If you sign up, you can watch for free.

I am pleased to report my poem "Jack's Land" will appear in the Winter Solstice issue of ETERNAL HAUNTED SUMMER.

‪Adam Bolivar‬ I have finally started writing HEATHEN HYMNS, a collection of prayers to the Germanic gods composed in traditional alliterative verse. The first one, naturally, is 'Hymn to Wóden'. (Illo by Arthur Rackham.)

Jack Neepe is looking awfully wizened these days! But still he smiles for he knows he will be reborn next Halloween and every Halloween after until the end of time...

A young chappy at the store just now told me that he liked my 'fit'. It took me a moment to apprehend his meaning (clothing). Ah, youth today and their delightful demotic!

The Reverend Ezekiel Whitlock and Captain Coffin find Noella frozen in a block of ice. (Scene from THE SNOW WITCH, performed 1998.)

Marionettes watching a shadow puppet play! (Scene from THE SNOW WITCH, performed 1998.)

Attack of the mutant carnivorous penguins! (Scene from THE SNOW WITCH, performed 1998.)

Two marionettes in a boat. (From THE SNOW WITCH, performed in 1998.)

If anyone has read my new alliterative verse collection, would you consider leaving a quick review or at least giving it some stars? My gratitude knows no bounds! www.amazon.com/Told-Firelig...

william balfour ker -- just posting this for no reason

18th-century highwayman Sixteen String Jack was so popular he entertained seven women at a farewell dinner before his execution. In a specially made pea-green suit adorned with a large nosegay, he enjoyed cheerful banter with the hangman and the crowd, then danced a jig before being publicly hanged.

Arrowyn stumbled on this post on Threads about our marionette show last night. We're the new face of Portland!

Jack rests his weary bones, a temporary reprieve from his eternal wandering.

Jack and a strange creature from the ocean's black abyss...

Jack Neepe, Esq., at your service. Come follow my flickering light into outer darkness for all eternity...

Ah ha! My mate Jesse Kaszniak sent me some photos of last night's poetry reading and marionette show, JACK AND THE GREEN ETTIN, a retelling of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

Last night's poetry reading and marionette phantasmagoria was a resounding success! We had a full and very enthusiastic house. I pray some photos will surface. Many thanks to my tremendously talented puppeteers @niyyahwrites.bsky.social & Arrowyn Craban Lauer (pictured here) and Paris Weslyn Meyers.

Jack Neepe summons you to the Rose City Book Pub in Portland on Halloween at 8 p.m. for a phantasmagorical evening of spooky poetry and macabre marionettes. You disregard his invocation at the risk of wandering in darkness for ALL ETERNITY!!! @johnshirley2024.bsky.social

Jack is looking jolly this year! That's because he knows he'll be reaping a good harvest of souls to send to HELL...

The sacred neep is ready to carve. I conjure thee, Jack!