Wednesday, February 15, 2012

40. The Trojan War

A bloody battle soon ensued
On the plain of Illium.
The Akhaians came one thousand fold.
To take the city and her gold.
Curses and plagues flowed through the Greek camp
As gods played with mice and men.
The weakness of their great champion
Wasn’t only his heel.
Bloody stalemate caused red waterfalls
The fell to Hades’ land.
Pyres burned day and night
Because of the week foot’s stubborn ways.
Achilles, the man with fragile heel
Pouted in his tent
Because his precious trophy was taken away.
He stayed there
Like the man of marble that he was.
Even with his brothers’ cries
He just wouldn’t break.
But then the cracks began to show
When his Petroklos
Was carried to Hades’ hated den.
“Alas, Poor Petroklos!”
They cried in torment.
“Hero to us all.”
“While ours was pouting in his tent”
“Only he answered his brother’s call.”
So Achilles went
To challenge the horse trainer Hector.
“No prayers from you to me.”
He said as he desecrated his body.
Achilles dragged Hector across Illium’s great plain
Never once to let up
Priam’s pleading went unheard
So the gods had to intervene.
Achilles relented.
They had their funeral pyre.
It was an arrow from the Trojan prince’s hand
That helped him follow Hector down to that god-forsaken land.
A crafty island king and his wooden horse
Brought the city’s final end.

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