Scholars of the script
The notably odd ones out
Greedily clutching our paper
Wooden pencil in hand
Remaining silent when we want to shout

Aspiring to write perfect stanza
That is always just beyond our grasp
Bearing the sidelong glances and whispers
That our undertakings often bring about

We are the Misfits
The Manic
The Loners
The Strange
Rife with depression

While declining to be mundane

We are the poets
The writers
Artists of letters
Courageous and valiant
Carefully treading through the veil of reality
Trying not to lose our balance

We are the poets
The writers
Singular and unique
Each having a story to tell
As we live our lives
A precarious existence at best
Between the promise of Heaven
And the fear of Hell

All Rights Reserved. Tammy M. Darby Feb. 1, 2019
All Material Stored in Author Base

As the Thunderbolt God Jupiter
Saturn’s brother
Pursued his loves in disguise
The Goddess Hera sat upon her throne
Irritated and plotting
Gazing with angry jealous eyes

Oh, courageous intelligent Athena
****** Goddess of the hunt
Dare the foolish to cast eyes upon her unclothed
Under the sentence of a tortuous death
Its said by many she was not birthed
But sprang surprisingly from her father’s head

The lovely Aphrodite
Would melt the hearts of many a man
Who would offer up their life
For but a faint touch of her hand

The Light God Apollo admirer of the word, reciting poetry
Pluck the gold lyres delicate strings
While the sea god Poseidon’s twelve daughters
Mermaids
Dressed in dripping seaweed began to sing

Ares of the bold god of war
Feared conqueror and great warrior
Planted flowers
As was his custom in the spring

Artemis in fervent haste strung her magical bow
For it was pursuit that stirred her blood
It flowed through her veins
Aged Roman wine
Running stags through shadowy woods

The gods of the Kings
The Gods of the people
To whom many sacrifices were made
Lived thousands of years beyond the lifespan of man
So, say the storytellers of olden times and past days

All right Reserved. Tammy M. Darby. Jan. 31, 2019
All Material Stored in Author Base

On a bed of woven wormwood and myrrh
Say the holy words from blessed mouth
Of distant gods and long forgotten ancient lore

As you place my cold flesh on the hearth
May it rise to golden clouds of heaven
Or for my sins descend into the darkness of  hell.

For no soul now resides in this skeleton
As it has happened since the dawn of man
And a thousand times before the old ones tell

So burn my body in the old way
Pray naught do not grieve
Because my life is no more

Instead
Let my body rest
In a fire of woven wormwood and myrrh
As did the distant gods and all who came before

@ Copyright Tammy M. Darby Jan. 21, 2019.