„Cutting irony and penetrating mourning stand effortlessly side by side in the poems of Hörður Andri,“ – Guðmundur S. Brynjólfsson rithöfundur.
The book of poetry Feyktu mér stormur has been in the making for a very long time and the script was more or less ready in the year 2011. Since then it has taken small steps of change, and improvements, like wine which is given a good time to mature. Now the book is finally ready to be published and contains poems of all sorts, both religious and secular, philosophical and without much thought, but all of them have something to offer.
Support the project here
The book is split into four chapters where each chapter draws a certain picture by itself but together they make up a journey where the reader follows the author through the battle between light and darkness, man and God, man and himself, truth and doubts. The difference is not always obvious but every individual must find the conclusion by himself.
Hörður works as a grammar school teacher in Súðavík, where he lives with his wife and five of his six daughters. He uses his time to study theology and write literature, as well as enjoying life’s delights on the beautiful West Fjords where the grass is greener, the snow is whiter and the stars shine brighter then in any other place in the world. He is currently working on his first novel as well as writing poetry.
By sponsoring this project you give the poet great joy. Also, you enhance continuous growth in the publishing of poetry in Iceland, which is an essential form of literature as well as often being the first step of a successful career for many known writers.
a poem from the book:
Bráðum kemur dauðinn
Hún vaknar í ísaldarklakanum
sem bráðnar undan viskusól mannsins
Banvæn skríður hún af stað
ferðast manna á milli
óvelkomnari en þyrnir í auga
eftirsóttari en Havílagull
Frumstæð skepna, sköpuð til að drepa
stelur, slátrar og eyðir
lífum mannanna barna
sem anda að sér köldum sólargeislunum
þar sem gasljósin dansa á heiðum himni
og stjörnurnar skína á daginn
Tunglið og sólin hanga á sömu festingunni
birtan blandast nóttinni
Yfir fjöllunum lafir dauðinn
í dölunum búa grafirnar
að lokum snjóar yfir allt
og náttúran er hvít og fögur