The Poetry Marathon

Demure myrmidon
Just don’t occur
In nature
(To say demure myrmidon
That is, to say a mythical
Being
Much like an unicorn)
To say they ever did is to

Deride the ancient Greeks
And also modern despots
(With no implication that
They are the same thing)
Would be diligent
To prevent slander
The results of understanding
The myrmidon
May at times leave you feeling
That you are an esteemed funambulist

At best it is likely
Only hypnopompic
And yeah,
That’s kinda sad
For you and you and you

Because it is exactly
That self same state
That resulted in this
Poem pour vous!

Ask yourself
If the tyranny
Be in your place
In your home
Your city
Your land
Your country
Your sea

Ask yourself
Then go to bed
See how you feel
when you look
In the mirror
In the morning

We will talk more then

A poor and loathesome begger
Through devious channels
Put his filthy long-fingers
Onto the head
Of a young girls golden curls

“You are my child,” he muttered
Blindly, his rheumy eyes cauled over
“You were birthed in the ancient
Fires.”

She didn’t cry
Even when his rotten, toothless
Mouth
Moved enough to her ear
So that she could feel his whiskers
And his hot breath

“Can you keep a secret?” He asked
His voice trembled with his demand

She nodded and only a mute whimper
Showed that she was more afraid
Than he

“Can you keep a promise?” He looked her
Full in the face
His brown, bloodshot eyes
Scanning her large blue ones

Both sets were filled with tears

Finally she made her lips
Move and murmured, “yes”.

He reached into a satchel
That could have been made
Of most anything

And put into her tiny,
Plump hands
Two golden clasps

She felt that something had happened
The clasp vibrated in her hands

The begger turned and left her
All ferocity now
Gone from him
And he shambled
With broken shoulders
And never even
Glanced back

The girl opened up her fingers
Her face lit up with gold

She murmured, ‘yes’

And put the clasps in the
Bottom of her jacket pocket
And skipped down the street
Where her friends were
Already at play

The lady in blue
Her dress draped around her
Mingling with the ripples
In the water of her pool
Lined with rocks
Softened and
Covered in shag carpets
Of green and olive moss

The lady laughs
Her laughter echoes
Even dampened by the leaves
Of the slender birch nymphs
Her hero approaches

Strong and sure
Proud, impudent and kind
His eyes are the blue
Of her garments
She opens her arms
And he forces aside the waters
That drain off his thighs
In heavy green rivers

The skies are heavy
With pregnant red clouds
And he lifts her up
A shrieking, laughing
Lady Nyad in love

The heavy laden clouds
Murmur with thunder
Blue leaves the red
A bolt of lightning
From straight above

The bolt fills them
Their love protects them
As long as she remains young
And he stays strong
Nothing can touch them

How can he ever fill
The hole his dryad left?

No mortal woman
Could bring the lightning
Down on him
And he will always crave it
He left her without knowing
That the love that
She brought him
Was rare only to her
Too late to realize
When she aged
It wasn’t to deceive him

Then She had drank all her pool
And the waters destroyed her
She was Laid to rest in
An unmarked grave
Misunderstood and reviled
Her beauty inside her

Whereupon
You must tell them
‘Here stands my other son’

He loved you and
he held you dear
As Hercules held Uni dear
And nursed from her breast

And you, my dear
Who never would trouble herself
As the morning dawn
Is too cold and clear

You complain your fingers
Grow numb in the
late autumn stream

But I tell you,
What matters is that
As he sits
His back to you
Spine rigid
Heart broken

Tell him that
The stream never did matter
And that he is,
your other son

Two gasping
Quick inhalations

And then

‘You have got to learn
To wing it
Only then can we
All flock together”

She told me when I was age four

Then there was that day
The day of

Blood

They called her grandmother
I called her grandmother too

She said, ‘child,
Nothing can ever harm us
Save that which we fear
Or that which we love’

Gasp
Breath like knives
In my lungs
Grandmothers face
A mask of riteous fury

A quick inhalation
A sob

Grandmother holds me
The bad man dead
We both safe
Covered in his murderous

Blood

In order to make room
He lifted the little girl
Up into his arms
Above her,
His face hovered
The very aspect of
The great Deity

Her mother taught her
That the rains that fall
Nourish the earth
And that even buttercups
Should not be
Thoughtlessly crushed

But he lifted her up
To his stubble covered chin
He would always be
More god than man
To his little girl
He would be her daddy

I shall bide
Beneath the earth
And yes,
I’m well aware of
How that sounds
Then he opened his eyes
Well then….
What are we waiting for?
So that the blunt monster
Will give us all
A crock of gold
And three wishes
His open eyes close
We all know
The three wishes
Never work
Go back to sleep
Dark one

My house
Grows in the trees
With flowers and moss
On the roof
Chickens and geese
Live so near
I can hear them clucking
And hooting
In their dreams

The wind sighs
Through the branches
Rough pine bark
Is only a hands breadth
Away

Sap hangs like
Turpentine gemstone
Sticky on fingers
Sweet and biting in mouth

Linden grows just
Over there
Spade shaped leaves
Beside the apple tree

Silence and peace
Except for the crack
of the fire
And the creaks of the trees

I lived there so long
Now it’s just in my dreams
… And in my every cell
Somethings will never
Be far from me
Some beauties
Are just too deep

“Oh ancient ones
My mild plea will not
Make you feel guilty
My intent is loving
Not that I think
You should care much…”

“You had best let be”
I heard from a monstrous
Throated voice
“There is no maid that
I could ascertain would
Ever go with you willingly”

Anguished with guilt
I cringed
And prepared to incur
Yet more guilt

Benumbed with despair
Marianne stirred
The aging coals in the fire
And brushed her soft curls
Out if her large limpid eyes
As the villain and
The ancient ones
Bargained for her fate