I have wanton-destroyed my sole ally
the charade played to fend off my nuptial.
on what alibi can I now rely?
Oh hated fate, now inescapable.
Should I flee, who would save Telemachus
the son born to me by Odysseus?
They would make of him a bloodied carcass
escape for me is utterly specious.
Gently, Penelope smothers her grief
Subdued-railing the monstrous flagrancy.
Can no one help? It is beyond belief!
Can Gods and Goddesses not feel pity?
One must she choose though she loathes to do so,
too frequently woman's lot is sorrow.
YOU ARE READING
Dragonish
PoetryPART 1: Seven poems that explore love. The sated wind doodles mischievously no longer the ravening raptor loosed that scratched sharp claws to my unfettered glee. Now are you temperate, husky, obtuse. PART 2: Follows the tale of a persecuted dragon...
