Nobody

Tags

Ancient Greek Mythology, Australian poet, Cyclops, Formal poetry, Homer, Homer's Odyssey, Laertes, Odysseus, Petrarchan sonnet, poem, poetry, Polyphemus, Poseidon, sonnet, Ulysses

𝐍𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲

{𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘖𝘥𝘺𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘗𝘰𝘭𝘺𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘯 4 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘴}

𝐈.

War-wearied are the sailors on the sea.
An isle they reach, a chance to slake their thirst,
To satisfy their hunger — but they durst
Not raise the wrath of Polyphemus — he
Who owns this cave — but take his stores and flee!
Too late! The Cyclops has returned, and first
Two heroes he devours: “You are all cursed!
You sail here but to make a meal for me!”

A stone he rolls, the cave’s wide mouth to block.
And in the morn two more men are consumed.
He then unblocks the cave and drives his sheep
Outside, reseals the cave, and leads his flock
To pastures, there to graze. “We are not doomed,”
Says wise Odysseus, “The giant must sleep.”

𝐈𝐈.

“So craft a pointed stake, a sturdy spear.
Bring out our strong and undiluted wine.”
And in the evening comes the giant to dine
On two more men. Odysseus says: “Here,
Drink of our wine.” His comrades cower in fear.
“Tell me your name — you of the stronger spine,
And I will gift you as a guest. Divine
Poseidon is my sire — to him I’m dear.”

Odysseus: “Nobody is my name.”
Polyphemus: “Nobody I’ll eat last.”
Now drunk, the Cyclops slumbers, soon he’ll wake;
The Cyclops, wise Odysseus will maim:
The spear into the giant’s eye is cast.
He wakes in dreadful pain — pulls out the stake.

𝐈𝐈𝐈.

His friends come as he screams in agony —
They gather by the cave and wonder, why?
“Who hurts you Polyphemus?” is their cry.
“Nobody hurts me! Nothing can I see!
Nobody!” Comes the blinded giant’s plea.
And hearing this they shake their heads and sigh —
Advise, since madness none there can deny:
“Pray that the gods restore your sanity!”

Next morning Polyphemus moves the stone.
And searches all his sheep as they move by
For his tormentors — but not one is found.
For each clings underneath a sheep, alone.
Knowing full well that if he’s found he’ll die,
He dare not move, nor does he make a sound.

𝐈𝐕.

Down to their ship the heroes swiftly run,
As Polyphemus screams and hurls great stones:
“I’ll sink your ship, my teeth will grind your bones!”
Odysseus: ” I am Laertes’s son!
And freedom from your clutches we have won!”
The heroes cheer and Polyphemus moans.
A prayer to great Poseidon then he groans:
“My father, I know I’m your blessed one.

This cruelty, by these men, you must avenge.
Destroy them and their ship; my only eye
Will never see again — Lord, take their lives!
And great Poseidon will take his revenge
For all the men but one are soon to die —
Odysseus, resourceful one, survives.

— D.N. O’Brien

The Meadow of Asphodel (extended version)

Tags

Acheron, Ancient Greek Mythology, Asphodel meadows, Australian poet, Cimmerians, Circe, Dawn, Erebus, Formal poetry, Hades, Hecatomb, Ithaca, Night, Odysseus, Persephone, poem, poetry, Polyphemus, Poseidon, red-cheeked ships, River of Flaming Fire, River of Lamentation, River Styx, Teiresias, The Odyssey, The Suitors, Theban, Thebes, Trinacria, Winnowing fan

The Meadow of Asphodel (extended version)

I

Said Circe of the lovely hair,
The goddess with the tresses fair:
“Odysseus, go and set sail,
For in your quest you must not fail.

I will provide a strong north breeze
That will propel you o’er the seas
To where a land is bathed in mist;
That Dawn’s soft rays have never kissed;

Where dreadful Night has spread her cloak.
Cimmerians, unhappy folk,
Live there, close to the gates of Hell.
A meadow clothed in asphodel,

A grove of slender poplar trees,
(They are august Persephone’s)
Two rivers mingle in a gyre –
The Lamentation, Flaming Fire.

The first has waters of the Styx.
Around a towering rock they mix,
And with a thundering are gone –
They pour into the Acheron.

So when this mournful land you reach,
And on its shore your boat you beach,
Then dig a trench a cubit broad,
A cubit long, with your fine sword.

Around the trench pour offerings,
To all the dead, to slaves and kings,
Then barley, white, all over spread,
And say your prayers to the dead:

At Ithaca, when you return,
A heifer you will kill and burn,
And treasure heap upon the pyre,
So all will be consumed by fire.

And to Teiresias the seer,
The blind, the ghost who dwells quite near,
You’ll sacrifice the finest sheep,
So that the sage in peace may sleep.

When prayers are done, call to your crew
That they must bring a ram and ewe,
Jet-black, no others will suffice –
Two victims for the sacrifice.

To Erebus then turn each head,
But look away till they are bled.
And when the trench is filled with blood;
When death has staunched the surging flood,

From Erebus there’ll come a swarm
Of all the souls in ghostly form;
But take your sword, and let none pass
Till you speak with Teiresias.”

II

All then went as Circe said.
From Erebus the swarms of dead
Approached Odysseus the Lord,
Who held them back with his bare sword,

And said: “Until the Prince of seers,
His prophesy brings to my ears,
No soul but he this blood will taste.
I beg Teiresias – make haste.”

And then the Theban seer came up:
“Odysseus, now let me sup
The dark blood; nimble-witted Lord,
In silver scabbard sheathe your sword.”

Odysseus did then obey
The ghostly sage, and backed away.
Teiresias, the blood consumed,
Then spoke: “You and your men are doomed

If the Earth Shaker has his way.
He still broods on that fateful day
When with your crudely crafted spear
You blinded Polyphemus – dear

To him – his son; he’ll send you down
To Ocean’s bottom – watch you drown.
But should he fail, then mark my words:
There is an island blessed with herds

Of cattle, flocks of sheep; the Sun,
He keeps them – watches every one.
Trinacria this isle is named,
And for these kine and sheep is famed.

So if by chance you reach this isle,
Do not these flocks and herds defile;
Don’t hurt the cattle or the sheep,
Or Sun will send you to the deep;

For wrecked will be your ship – your crew
Will perish, but perchance should you
Survive – should you avoid this fate,
To Ithaca you’ll come home late,

And in a ship from foreign soil,
All laden rich with gifts and spoil.
But trouble in your house you’ll find,
Where are the Suitors fed and wined,

And to your royal and faithful wife
Make love. By stratagem or strife,
By plan or sword, clear them away.
In Ithaca you cannot stay;

For you must bear a shapely oar
And travel far away once more
Until you meet the men who know
Not sea – who salted food forgo.

Where red-cheeked ships are unknown things,
As are their oars – their well-cut wings.
A sign I’ll send – will say a man:
“Upon your shoulder there’s a fan

For winnowing.” Then plant the oar
Into the earth. A breeding-boar,
A bull, a ram, then sacrifice
To Lord Poseidon. Sage advice

To you Odysseus I give,
Though I am dead and you still live:
Return then home – to gods, in turn,
The hecatombs on pyres burn.

As for your end – Death from the sea
Will gently come – prosperity
Will mark your days – you will grow old.
Teiresias, the truth has told.”

– D.N. O’Brien

The Meadow of Asphodel

Tags

Acheron River, Asphodel meadows, Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Cimmerians, Circe, Erebus, Formal poetry, Greek Mythology, Hades, Hell, Homer, Ithaca, Odysseus, Persephone, poem, poetry, River of Flaming Fire, River of Lamentation, Styx River, Teiresias, The Odyssey

The Meadow of Asphodel

Said Circe of the lovely hair,
The goddess with the tresses fair:
“Odysseus, go and set sail,
For in your quest you must not fail.

I will provide a strong north breeze
That will propel you o’er the seas
To where a land is bathed in mist;
That Dawn’s soft rays have never kissed;

Where dreadful Night has spread her cloak.
Cimmerians, unhappy folk,
Live there, close to the gates of Hell.
A meadow clothed in asphodel,

A grove of slender poplar trees,
(They are august Persephone’s)
Two rivers mingle in a gyre –
The Lamentation, Flaming Fire.

The first has waters of the Styx.
Around a towering rock they mix,
And with a thundering are gone –
They pour into the Acheron.

So when this mournful land you reach,
And on its shore your boat you beach,
Then dig a trench a cubit broad,
A cubit long, with your fine sword.

Around the trench pour offerings,
To all the dead, to slaves and kings,
Then barley, white, all over spread,
And say your prayers to the dead:

At Ithaca, when you return,
A heifer you will kill and burn,
And treasure heap upon the pyre,
So all will be consumed by fire.

And to Teiresias the seer,
The blind, the ghost who dwells quite near,
You’ll sacrifice the finest sheep,
So that the sage in peace may sleep.

When prayers are done, call to your crew
That they must bring a ram and ewe,
Jet-black, no others will suffice –
Two victims for the sacrifice.

To Erebus then turn each head,
But look away till they are bled.
And when the trench is filled with blood;
When death has staunched the surging flood,

From Erebus there’ll come a swarm
Of all the souls in ghostly form;
But take your sword, and let none pass
Till you speak with Teiresias.”

Calypso

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Calypso, Formal poetry, Greek Mythology, Homer, Nymph, Odysseus, Ogygia, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, The Odyssey

Calypso

Odysseus yearns for Penelope.
The Nymph Calypso, in her vaulted cave,
Says never will he cross the wine-dark sea,
For she must keep the hero as her slave –
Her slave to love – from cruel Poseidon save.
For should Odysseus from her isle sail,
The Earth-shaker will send him to his grave.
He’ll buffet him with waves, lightning and gale,
And shatter on high seas his raft so frail,
Thus on Odysseus take his revenge;
Or so he thinks – his efforts all will fail.
Odysseus will reach home and avenge
The honour of his wife – her suitors kill;
As fair Calypso bows to Zeus’ will.

Troy Story – an inside job

Tags

Fifth Column, Greek Mythology, Homer, Odysseus, Priam, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, The Illiad, Traitors, Trojan Horse, Trojan War, Troy

Resourceful Lord Odysseus, pray tell –
What is your plan to cause the fall of Troy?
For as you know, the war does not go well;
What tactics are you seeking to employ?
What trickery, what subterfuge, what ploy,
Have you, clever Odysseus, designed?
What cunning plan? What means will you deploy?
Odysseus – what do you have in mind?
So spoke Odysseus: “Priam is blind.
Achaeans wait without, but safe within
Troy’s stout defences, patiently, our kind,
Who went there long ago and settled in,
Now wait, embedded – an imposing force;
I call these warriors my Trojan Horse.“