Friday Poem
© 1 Feb 2013 Luther Tychonievich
Licensed under Creative Commons: CC BY-NC-ND 3.0
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Friday Poem

A sonnet about believing in mythology.


Untitled Poem

High on a cold bare granite hill, alone,
  With naught but wool to shield me from their wrath
And many sins for which I must atone
  I found the end to my own life-long path.
Then down came Zeus (or Jove; I know not which)
  I thought I would see Ares first, but no:
The chiefest god first whipped me with a switch
  Until my backside red with blood did flow.
When Jove at last returned into the sky
  The genii of my various pursuits
Each added insult, spit into my eye,
  Or railed at me with monologue disputes.
    Inside I smiled, nor offered any fight:
    My faith in mythos had been proven right!

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