Ares

Tags

Ancient Greece, Ancient Greek Gods, Ares, Australian poet, God of War, Iliad, Mars, poem, poetry, Triolet

𝐀𝐫𝐞𝐬

The hated god was Ares, god of war;
For ancient Grecian parents loved their sons.
They perished on the battlefields, therefore,
The hated god was Ares, god of war.
Those ancient battlefields were strewn with gore,
And often Greek boys were the slaughtered ones.
The hated god was Ares, god of war.
For ancient Grecian parents loved their sons.

— D.N. O’Brien

Early Years of the Archidamian War

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Ancient Greece, Athenian walls, Athens, Attica, Australian poet, Corona virus crisis, 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐚𝐫, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Sparta, Spartans, The Peloponnesian War, Wuhan Virus

𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐚𝐫

The Spartans stone the walls and shout:
“Athenians, come fight! Come out!
We raise no walls; we fear no foes,
And our contempt for you, it grows!”

Athenians are in lock-down.
They singly stroll about the town.
They hear the Spartans call outside.
Behind their walls they safely hide.

The blackened ground no longer yields,
As Spartans burn Athenian fields.
The silver and the gold run out.
Athenians begin to doubt.

These are the early years of war.
There are much crueler years in store.
The Spartans very soon take wing;
But they’ll be marching back in spring.

— D.N. O’Brien

The Melian Dialogue

Tags

Ancient Greece, Athenian Empire, Athens, Delian League, Greece, Italian sonnet, Melos, Peloponnesian League, Petrarchan sonnet, poem, poetry, Siege of Melos, sonnet, Sparta, Spartan, Spenserian sonnet, The Cyclades, The Melian Debate, The Melian Dialogue, The Peloponnese, The Peloponnesian War, Thucydides

The Melian Dialogue

Now Melians, consider what we ask:
Swear loyalty to us and none shall die.
For what’s transpired we’ll not take you to task;
But now surrender, lest our arrows fly.
Athenians – surrender? – tell us why?
Our city, in this war it takes no side,
Though it is true to Sparta we’ve a tie.
But you, so mighty – can it be denied
That Melos could not swell the Spartan tide?
We won’t accept your claimed neutrality,
For Spartan ships, your harbour they have plied.
We’ll have no truck with weak morality –
To conquer you is right; it would be wrong
To spare you – Athens must be seen as strong!

Would you alarm the other neutral states?
Will they not think it’s Athens they must fear?
Our friends and allies know we hold them dear.
Not one, we think, disloyalty contemplates;
To Sparta they will not open their gates.
But island states that are to Sparta near,
Towards which may those Spartan triremes steer;
Their destinies we’ll not leave to the Fates.
It would be shameful were we not to fight!
Oh no, not shameful – you would surely lose.
We are the stronger – you would all be slain.
But we believe there is a chance despite
Your strength, and so we feel that we must choose
To stand and fight – perhaps a victory gain!

The Spartans too will come to our defence.
Self-interested Spartans fight to win
A victory for you? – they have more sense!
They will, we think, for Spartans are our kin.
With them we share our ways – our discipline.
And too, the gods are on our side – we’ll fight!
The Spartans would not spread their ships so thin.
Our navy would put such a force to flight.
The gods will watch as weakness yields to might.
So one last time we ask you – make your choice.
Think of your people – make the one that’s right.
We men of Melos answer with one voice:
Return to Athens, tell them we’ll not yield!
Oh foolish Melos! – now your fate is sealed.

The Melian Dialogue

Discarded Gods

Tags

Ancient Greece, Australian poet, Greek Gods and Godesses, Greek Mythology, Mount Olympus, Petrarchan sonnet, poem, poetry, sonnet

On high Olympus Zeus waters his plants.
His garden blooms; he blows away the snow.
Apollo’s firing arrows from his bow,
As Hera, washing done, hangs out her pants.
Poseidon, Shaker of the Earth, just rants;
He can’t get used to life laid-back and slow.
He longs to plunge into the sea below,
And knows that one fine day he’ll get the chance.
Hung-over, Dionysus grunts and groans,
While Hestia, hearth bound, clears out cold ash.
Vain Aphrodite puts her makeup on,
While razor-sharp, his spear-tip, Ares hones.
The smith Hephaestus gives hot bronze a bash.
They’re out of fashion – but they haven’t gone.

Oh no, they haven’t left the mountain top.
Up on those cloudy heights they still reside;
Wait patiently for what The Fates decide.
On fertile slopes, grows high, Demeter’s crop;
The heavy heads of grain she soon will lop.
And Hermes, fleet of foot, still travels wide;
As exercise, the god won’t be denied.
Athena, helping Hera, wields a mop,
As Artemis heads off to hunt for deer;
Her quiver and her bow across her back.
Hephaestus is still making lots of noise,
And Dionysus downs another beer.
Zeus gazes down on Greece, gone to the pack,
And smiles at the obtuseness of his toys.

Cynical Limericks

Tags

Alexander the Great and Diogenes, Ancient Greece, Australian poet, Corinth, Diogenes of Sinope, Diogenes the Cynic, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry

A Giant Shadow

Alexander the Great (what a man!)
To Diogenes said: “I’m a fan!”
Said the Cynic: “Look son,
You are blocking the sun,
And I’m trying to get a great tan.”

Corinthian Corruption

Diogenes carried a light
In the daytime – no not in the night.
He looked high and low
But wherever he’d go
No honest men came within sight.

Mini Mobile Home

He slept in a pot made of clay,
And he rolled it around every day.
It was quite a tight squeeze
But old Diogenes
Said: ”It’s cramped, but I like it that way.”