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I Am My Father's Son

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They were gambling in front of the house. Manservants and pages bustled about Serving Suitors who just curse and carouse. Few mix wine with water. I heard one shout, "Clean down the tables with wet sponges! Rouse Yourselves! And when you've done that lay them out Again!" Some others carve mountains of meat. I’m almost ready to admit defeat. Then I thought I glimpsed Athena (disguised As a man) long before the others did. Sat among the Suitors I’ve long despised, I daydreamed of how my father would rid This house of these hopefuls. I was surprised At the images - horrible, vivid - The Suitors’ bloody bodies heaped chest-high Slaughtered by the king they’d sought to defy. As I sat brooding, I spied a stranger At the gate, and went straight to greet him there. Great Athena's stratagem to change her Appearance at first kept me unaware Of her divinity. For, the danger Of my being overawed was unfair. Faced with a mortal, I could be at ease And act without feeling I had to please. I said, “Welcome. You won’t believe how glad I am to see you. Come drink, eat, and tell Me the reason you’ve come - good or bad. Please, sit close by me so I’ll hear you well. My mother's Suitors upset me, I'm sad To say, loud and insolent. Drunk, they'll yell, Shout, and tell bawdy jokes. Just ignore it. For decent company, they are unfit.” At that moment, the great door opened wide And the noise of feasting and merriment Grew louder and reverberated inside. Four of my mother’s Suitors hellbent On having a good time sat down beside Me and the stranger. It was evident They’d drunk far too much from their boorish ways, Rough, tipsy voices, and their glassy gaze. One, Antinous, said, “What’s this? No music Dancing or singing? Where is Phemius, The minstrel? Tell him to play or I'll kick His backside! Tell him, I, Lord Antinous, Wants everyone to hear how artistic He is with a sweet song harmonious And pleasing. Get to it, Telemachus, Get him to sing. Don’t look so serious!” I nudged the stranger to edge down the bench To get away from these aggressive drunks And avoid breathing in the fetid stench Of their sour wine-soaked breath. Their beards had chunks Of vomit on them as they tried to quench Their insatiable thirst for wine. Each dunks His face in food bowls like pigs at a trough Gorging so fast that they splutter and cough. I whispered to the stranger, “What I say Is, though I don’t mind a little excess And feasting's cheap when you don't have to pay, There, in some dark uncharted wilderness May lie the bleaching bones - or perhaps they Grind to powder in the surf relentless - Of my father, Odysseus, long gone, Whose wealth these greedy vultures feed upon.” Another brute, Eurymachus, stood up. He staggered unsteadily on his feet. Swaying to and fro, wine spilled from his cup. Eyes bleary, face white as a laundered sheet, He bared his backside, wagged it like a pup, And farted. “I thought I’d give you a treat!” He said, in generous mood, his speech slurred Staring down at his friends with vision blurred. Lord Antinous giggled. “You are unfit To grace this respectable, noble place. That stink would curdle goats’ milk! I admit You’re daring in baring your bum. Replace Your face with your bum – there’s more hair on it! The barefaced cheek you show is a disgrace! I suggest you sit on your best feature You ill-mannered, uncouth, ugly creature.” Eurymachus retorted, “You're no Greek god Yourself, Antinous! Fair Penelope Will choose me over you - you drunken sod! And, I can say, without hyperbole, She'll be transfixed by the size of my rod When I hook her! What a catastrophe For her if she handles your tiny worm - She’ll not even notice it twist and squirm!” They guffawed and shouted, “More food, more drink! Bring more bread - and more meat - and much more wine - Lots - if you don't want us to cause a stink! Bring on the dancing girls! We need some fine Young maidens to be sent to us. Just think What we can do with those girls, boys! We'll line Them up take our pick, kiss them quick and grope!” To the stranger I said, “I’ve lost all hope. These brutes, sir, would pray for much longer legs - For no amount of pleading would save them If my father came back. They'll drain the dregs Of the last of the wine, spit out their phlegm, And belch foul breath smelling of rotten eggs, I fear, before then. We will never stem Rumours of his homecoming. But he's dead. Now, sir, tell me about yourself instead.” He replied, “I’m your father’s friend, Mentes, On a voyage, here with my ship and crew. Our fathers - your grandfather, Laertes, And mine, were good friends, as he will tell you. I came here because I've been told that he's Home - your father, Odysseus. Not true It seems. I know for sure he isn't dead. But he’s not on the mainland, that's what's said. Therefore, it’s more likely he's held captive. Strange thing - there is a voice inside my brain - So strong I know it's authoritative - That tells me he will soon be home again. Your father is clever and adaptive. Thus, even though he's bound with iron chain, He'll find some means of getting back home here. You are his son? I see the likeness clear.” Mother says I’m Odysseus's son, But it's a wise child that knows his father. I would prefer to be the son of one Who'd grown old upon his own land - rather Than of that unluckiest of men - none Disputes - King Odysseus. I gather My father's doomed to die captive or roam The seas. Either way, he'll never get home. When my father was here, life went on well. Now, we don't know if he's dead or living. It would be far better if they would tell Us that he'd died in battle. In giving Such news, they'd allow us to break the spell He's cast over us, and start forgiving Those who killed him. Then, I could build a mound To his memory and our line renowned. But now he's gone without a single trace. I inherit nothing but sad dismay, And it doesn't end with my grief, the race To marry my mother is on. Each day They eat me out of house and home. We face Ruin by them while they pretend to pay Court to my mother who cannot decide Whether she will or not become their bride. I’ll call a state assembly tomorrow. Lay my case before them, and ask the gods To help me. More in anger than sorrow, Bid the Suitors depart. Reduce the odds Ranged against me. Let my dear mother go Back to her father. If her nature prods Her to wed then he can give her away. I’ll search for my father that very day. Alexander Blackie

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Indiana Shaw

Date: 8/6/2017 12:54:00 PM

"Brilliant" - Loved the pauses - the empathizes - The whole re- take if only part of the life of "Odyssey" - And "Telemachus" plight in it all - I would to love to read the whole story and hear it all via an "Audio" book - "Alexander" the Great poetic writer and why should you be anything less - Indiana x x x