"baucis" poems
Baucis and Philemon,
Elderly souls, never empty of
Love,
Opened their doors for two strangers,
Whom
Unbeknownst to them, originated from
Above.
Zues and Hermes, cloaked in the robes of the
Poor,
Were turned away from every household,
Until they rapped on Baucis and Philemon's
Door.
"Come in, come in, shed your cloaks, and warm your hands,
Baucis,
Go!
Use our last loaves, grab the roast, the ham!"
Never mind their
Poverty
Never mind their
Nearly empty
Pantry and Cupboards
Baucis and Philemon possessed the rarest trait,
One the God's most
Coveted.
And while the two strangers ate their foods, and consumed their
Wine,
Baucis noted their cups never lowered beneathe the
Brim Line.
"God's... Divine!"
Cried the two elderly
Lovers.
"Follow us up the hill, Baucis, Philemon,
Do not look back as you climb,
Only to each other."
The two followed the Gods, still cloaked in the garb of strangers,
Never looking back at their village
Below.
Until, reaching the top, and turning back, their eyes didn't fall back upon their
Home.
Zues had called forth a flood, sent to destroy the once ungrateful
Village,
But where Baucis and Philemons cottage once lay,
A beautiful temple had risen from the filthy
Sullage.
Their wish to take care of the temple was swiftly
Granted,
As was their second wish, one that was almost
Demanded.
"I must die, as soon as my love does, I can't ever be without her."
The rest of their lives were spent glorifying the Gods for their kindness and love,
And when the time came for them to take their last
Breath,
Squeezed hands and warm souls crossed the River Styx,
And their broken and withered bodies were
Left.
The wrinkles on their
Skin,
Were made brown, and beautiful
Again
As their flesh turned to bark, and their hair to
Leaves,
The two elderly lovers, became intertwining
Trees.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 1:36 PM UTC
Love, unruliest hope, when fierce Diana went wild
With savage discourse, the arrow-stroke of her tongue—
While rage-hounds bay in wooded Gargaphie—aimed at Actaeon.
Or old Baucis her god-giving bone fat of mind,
Stewed the broth of covenant for Zeus to repay in kind.
Then Parthenope, siren-stung in her whirlpool of sea vines,
Her maiden-voice is a breath of sand for Naples to muse upon.
The body of Helen still lies in ages-old smoke over our cities,
We live in the timberframe of her bones of burned ships.
Why can’t her death be an end to all skies?
Oct 8, 2021
Oct 8, 2021 at 8:22 PM UTC
After the burial service
and after the meal for the guests.,
The old man returned home.
He felt badly in need of a rest.
He entered into the room they had shared
for all their years before.
It was faintly redolent of her favorite perfume,
but his Love wasn't here anymore.
Alone in their room, the old man shed some tears;
He had shown a brave face to the World.
Now, all alone, he permitted his grief
to pour out for the loss of his girl.
He fell down on his knees by the side of their bed
but all efforts at prayer were undone
when he saw on the wall a photo of her,
back in the days they were young.
That night he slept in the room down the hall.
The room they has saved for a guest.
There were too many memories in their marriage bed
for the old man to get any rest.
In his sleep he had dreams of an ancient Greek myth
when the gods gave an old couple grace:
To spare death and mourning they were turned into trees.
There together both firmly rooted in place.
His son came the next day to see how he was
For his dad hadn't answered his calls.
He found Death had answered Dad's prayers
There in that room down the hall.
Love is a gift and Life is a challenge
Charon gives rides shore to shore.
The old man was blessed to have passed in his sleep
and was joined with his love evermore.
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 1:30 PM UTC