Odin (in response to the poem "Loki" by Miss. G. Alice)

Though I have my vision issues, I can still see you boy.

Even when I have my slumber, I can still feel your tricky meddling.

I know we are not tethered via blood, but you are still my son,

You sit with me in Asgard above, I hope with some kind of love.

 

I am not issuing a decree for you to cease your actions, I would not have it any other way,

So, spread your mischief, in order to test the might of prospective Valhalla dwellers,

But please my dear Loki, do not engage in deeds so unworthy, that belong in Hela.

 

Dearest Frigg, my rock, give me the strength to maintain my title of “All Father”,

Your opinion, in my opinion, is the basis of the laws of this golden realm we call our home,

I hope I balance my love equally to every child I have born, as I do not want to unfairly compare,

But at times “The Trickster” makes it so difficult, and “The Thunderer” brandishing mjolnir is so very loud and proud.

 

With this in mind, I will take a sip from the Flyting cup, and issue some candour to the master of trickery.

 

I return to you my son, who started his life in the frosty land,

You must think me a kidnapper, ruining a cosmic plan,

But I could not face primitive giants, making you into their toy,

So, I took you with protective heart, so you could learn and enjoy,

Do not concentrate such benign hate, to destroy all you see,

To take up arms against us, for my sake, we are your family,

I can only ask you as a father can do, to behave accordingly.

 

Yet as a God, and a being of all seeing, I foresee that my advice may not be heeded,

Thus, one day my boy, you will give me reason, to punish treason that you have impeded,

Valkyries I will send for, to carry your body into a world of unimaginable pain,

As they will be compelled to choose traitor Asgardian, to be the one that is slain.

However, my dear Loki I hope that day will never come, join our high council once more,

Let us discuss about the maintenance of Yggdrasill, and have no more talk that abhors,

You have talents my boy, that you cannot afford to let slip, thus carry on good soldier,

Have midgardians below, sing your praises, your divinity cheered, by the young and the older.

 

A little part of my warning, obviously is a matter of pride,

I have built so much, which I hope will perpetually thrive,

For I did not sacrifice half my sight for nothing you know,

I cannot have your schemes ripping into everything I have sewed,

Surely the home I have provided you, deserves some gratitude,

Thus, reward this kindness with a much better attitude,

I love you my son, your tricks are both mirthful and provoking,

But, again I implore you, be careful with your overworking.