21/10/2024
Here's another poem I wrote inspired by my visit to Troy (in 2014). You wilt have to know at least the basics of Homer's Iliad (or have seen the great movie with Brad Pitt) to follow it..
814 – (204:9) – WHO CAN TELL ?
Flowers and the woman
I sing, mortals who listen,.
Hear:
Beyond what is known
By normal kin has been
Given to me to peer
Into the distant
Halls of memory,
The mists and swirls
And fogs, the clash of battle
And the din of lies.
How the fleet came
How they battled,
Both sides equally
Poised, until finally,
Their last ruse tried
And yet found out,
Odysseus’s sneeze
Giving away their game,
And they were
Led down from their huge horse,
Feasted, honoured,
Humoured and sent home
With wry wreathes
Of ivy and irony
And their pledged promises
Not to try again
Love’s game...
After that the Greeks sailed
Away, knowing the game was up.
We Trojans made
Bouquets and celebrations
Honouring that event
As “Peace Day”:
We sang splendid hymns and melodies
To Cybele, Aphrodite, Artemis,
And to all the rhythmic
Clusters of rich names of the Great
Goddess Who Was, Who Is
And Who Will Be, like bunches
Of ripe grapes or figs.
With the Goddess of Peace
Restored, Queen Helen
Became in time the ruler
Of the city and reigned,
With Paris, to the end
Of their noble days,
Still telling the story of
Their love to their Great
Grandchildren and how
The Greeks had
Sailed back empty handed.
They established a new
Dynasty at Troy, which
Lasted on down through Troy 13,
Troy 14, Troy 15, and on down
To Troy 54, which I have seen
With my own eyes.
The deep sorrows
Of war caused by the
Fury that leaped onto the
Beaches: jealousy, and hate
And fear and grief.
Mistaking love for lust,
All this I sing
With peace my theme.
How Odysseus went straight
Home to tell the tale
And Penelope’s laughter was sweet
And welcoming as summer rains.
How Rome was never wrought
In blood, Aeneas never sailed,
But the sacred flame of faith
Was passed from Troy to
Etruria to Albion
And still their Goddess temples
Sing this tale of love.
But not like that other
song sung by the after-Greeks,
Instead how their later heroes landed,
And were welcomed
On the beaches back,
And together feasted,
Rumi and Shakespeare held hands
Laughed with, and
Went home
To face the full light
Of the true Gods,
Gallipoli never leapt from lips
Except to sing the beauties of the landscape
And a dream of death
That never was;
Something the priests diverted.
Apollo be my witness
What I have written
Is true. This have
I seen, the 54th Dynasty
Of Troy is ruling still.
Beloved Queen and King
Who can only ever
Be chosen from among
Young lovers who
Have eloped to be
Together.
Life is a swift
Passage for lovers
To lie together.
A flower dream,
An incense smoke
That rises to the Gods
And hovers there in air
Carving shapes and contours
For fresh souls to form
Of wonder, primal aether.
Be careful not
To be the one
Who would leap back
Into the fire
Which came to Troy
For the lovers’ judgment.
The only fitness
For that is
The wind of old,
Whose words
Are all of love.
Other states
Rise and fall,
Some shatter,
As glass in a
Burning building.
But Troy:
Who can tell
When she
Shall fail ?
