Hello Poetry
Classics
Words
Blog
F.A.Q.
About
Contact
Guidelines
© 2024 HePo
by
Eliot
Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads.
Become a member
Donall Dempsey
Poems
Oct 4
METAMORPHOSES
METAMORPHOSES
My smile
floating
in my compact
mirror
as I get carried along
in a river of people
flowing down
High Holborn
stiletto-ing back to work
with the other temps
laughing gaily
amongst ourselves
looking forward to
a weekend’s Paintballing.
I add a little more
scarlet to my smile.
My smile
gazes back at me
almost in love
with itself.
I trap it
in its little prison
snap
it
shut.
Burdened by
my beauty
almost sick
to death of it.
What others would die for
I’d die to be without.
I shiver
in the sunlight
feeling un-really
real.
It’s not easy
being a myth
especially in these times
of disbelief.
I still recoil
in horror when people recall
that hoary old story
of how I was loved
...by a river.
Oh really Arethusa!
I gather up
my green hair
into a ponytail.
Oh those ****** Greeks
and the stories they tell!
Now I am a millennium
or two
...older
I remain still
as beautiful as ever.
Suddenly a voice
comes after me
his shadow
casting itself over me.
Oh ye Gods!
Surely not here…not now…not…again!
“Hey darlin’…why leave
why such a hurry? ”
Alpheus
that old river God
disguised as a cartoon
bowler-hatted-pinstriped-brolly-carrying English gent.
But the wrong vernacular
gave him away.
The river Yob
as he was known even back then.
I tried to pretend
I was mist on a mountain.
But he
wasn’t having any of it.
His voice
pursued me
his shadow
the shape of my terror.
Panic’d…perspiring
I turned into a stream
made a run
for it.
The English gent
dissolved as he
poured himself
into his true form.
I could feel his
strong undercurrent
how his waters
wanted to mingle with mine.
I started crying
which only made matters worse.
And yes…yes
he caught me of course
chased not longer chaste
filled with his lust
& it all happens
all over again.
Who’d be a nymph…eh?
Lusted after…turned into a tree or river.
It’s enough
to drive you nuts.
Ye fu&*%ing Gods
I hate being a myth!
It’s a curse
having to go through it
every time someone reads it.
It’s so…frustrating!
Tired now.
Ooops this is…my stop!
I shoved Hughes’s
OVID
back in
my rucksack
leapt off just
as the door closes.
There seemed to be some
commotion on the street
and **** and double ****
Holborn Underground
was closed
due to flooding.
Written by
Donall Dempsey
Guildford
(Guildford)
Follow
😀
😂
😍
😊
😌
🤯
🤓
💪
🤔
😕
😨
🤤
🙁
😢
😭
🤬
0
45
Nick Moore
Please
log in
to view and add comments on poems