There's a tendon in my calf rhymes with my surname
I call it my a- Gillies
Most would know it's common name
connecting to the ankle the achilles
Two months have been unable to do a daily run
an hour so of fun
This right tendon has been torn I am forced to limp
Finding alternative exercise no desire to be a wimp
Each day the injury receives some heat
my leg upon a stool my bum upon a seat
With hot water I fill a water bottle
Most unusual for me to have to hobble
Putting my best foot forward
shoulder to the wheel
nose to the grindstone
my Achilles heel
while sticking my neck out
I soon found
as
with my eye on the ball
ear to the ground
when I put my back into it
not with tongue in cheek
but to keep my chin up
heard joints creak
the onset of old age memory loss
an early taste
for in the end I forgot to bend
at the knees and not the waist
I strolled my garden on a day so fair,
and lo, a sad spider was sitting there.
I found that I could commiserate
with the little guy whose legs were eight.
Imagine, my friend, how it feels
to have so many Achilles heels.
What good would it do,
Son of Peleus,
To pull that arrow from your heel?
As you lie there helpless,
Legs useless and folded beneath you.
Your hand clenched around its fletchings
Searching for the source
Of sensations unfamiliar to you.
Pain. Suffering. Mortality.
How strange…
You are only half god and half man,
And all men must die, even you, Aristos Achaion.
The god's gift to you was not invulnerability, but speed.
And with that tendon we now name after you severed,
You are just as human as the rest of us.
That expression of anguish as you look to the sky.
Helmet still dawned as if you could leap up
And slaughter hundreds more Trojans, but you cannot.
An enraged fall from Godhood
Forever immortalized in white stone.
Centuries later it still stands.
Worn and weathered
By the years and all the heavy eyes that fell upon your misery,
Like pouring rain from dark clouds above.
The paradigm of human fatality and flaws.
But you were a god, somewhat at least.
You thought that you would live forever -
We all think that sometimes.
Remember that you have to die.
Otherwise, how do we know that we spent our life living?
The sun sets along with my heart,
On that fiery horizon of earth,
Bright like the fire in my hearth.
The fire led to the imminent birth
Of my rage that burned along
With your corpse, with prolonged
Desire to rip out his heart, The one
Who maimed you unrecognisable.
And if I die to avenge
My cherished downfall, Let
My ashes be mixed with his
And buried below a tomb of black.
His fragile frame spills scarlet still warmed by the fervency of his love
Love never to be betrayed further
Stolen from me in his naive pursuit of a modus vivendi
Between my alcove in his heart and his virtuous morality
We spoke so often of immortality
Of eternal legacies of splendor
While your lulling warmth obscured its austere nature
But now my hands are stained with carmine life
And my aureate tresses are dull with guilt
I am Aristos Akhaio, the best of men
yet i pale in the face of your magnificence
Doomed to a fleeting hope for mortal life and glory
When you were all I ever truly longed for
Even in death you watch me
Not in reverence but adoration
Your shrouded figure etched into my recollection
But sadistically lost to me forevermore
Glory befits the strong
Or so i once heard
But I never sought glory of any name but yours
Broken down into 3 syllables sobbed into the air
You were never your fathers' glory but to me you are everything
My only life, my only legacy, my only love
And my strength was stolen by the whisper of your broken breath
In the fantasizing brains of all Nigerian Fulanis,
Including their kindergarten still urinating on nannies;
All the entries and exits within country’s Aso Rock
To keep obeying their adjustable, Fulani clock!
Presently, the unstoppable aspiration of the Purest Hausa teens
Recklessly announcing the same to their napkins:
The Achilles Heel of the Brazilian Football Team,
Easily her ruinous tears commanding,
When she should a loser’s smile beam,
This, thorough Good Breeding demanding.
By the United States beautifully masked,
In her playing of Uncle Tom, enormously tasked;
Her millions of Dollars readily releasing
A loved President, the next election, losing!
To nearly every deprived tribe
Something to fight with the fattest bribe
Or surrender with a loaded gun
Making sure it doesn’t away run!
I’ve tried to The Mentality justify,
Baring a Bible verse that does it fortify…
Or so to me it had seemed
Or, probably, I has deemed…
‘The Elder shall serve The younger’…
And God must’ve, the service years, made longer!
I am not achilles
I am not at my ease
so mercy baby please
for I am not achilles
up I see the skies
down I see the ground
I am stuck in between
kind of could have been
I am not made for wars
my blood follows no stream
in misery I swim
seems my story has no theme
"Your muscles hold memories", didn't you know,
your posture, past injuries, so better go slow..
"No pain, no gain" leaves one worse for the wear,
a torn achilles, a rotator tear..
Is your core soft? Do you have pain in your back?
"Your muscles work in pairs, and take up the slack".
I will say these cliches before performing a massage,
and then I get lost in my effleurage...
I became a massage therapist at the age of fifty,
at the time, I thought it quite nifty..
Energy work has been fascinating for certain but now
at times my poor back is a hurting...
I now get massages more regularly, so I can keep
practicing, naturally...
this boy -
he is mythology
he is the pomegranate sitting in persephone's
palm -
(looks can be deceiving)
this boy -
he is a mirror
can show medusa what heaven really is -
how pain really feels
but medusa never looks
this boy in the sun -
he is the smoking gun
in the death of icarus;
he is the crime scene in the middle of the ocean
this boy -
this boy is murder
he is cain holding a blade to abel's throat,
holding a mirror up to medusa,
force-feeding a pomegranate to persephone
this boy cuts the snakes off medusa's head
and makes snake-skin boots;
plucks the melted feathers from icarus'
cold hands and makes a throw pillow
this boy is murder when he wants to be;
this boy is murder when he needs to be
Saw chiro ‘bout a kink in the neck,
saw the x-ray and said, “WHAT THE HECK?!?”
Pinched nerve to my elbow,
doc was a nice fellow,
but he WOULDN'T take my credit or check!
I run to the ATM for cash,
my left buttocks I notice a rash-
Spread to my Achilles,
just like uncle Billy’s!
SO IRRITATED, got in a crash!
Ambulance took me to ICU,
sphincter upset I started to spew-
My intestines ALL ripped!
All body parts unzipped....
“Sir, your Uncle Billy's here for you."
Dazed I heard a darn hillbilly speak,
rambling on 'bout the rash on his CHEEK!
Then the chiro walked in,
dared to show a big grin :)
A KICK in the nuts, he would'a squeaked!!!
Body parts used: 1. Neck 2. Elbow 3. Buttocks
4. Achilles 5. Sphincter 6. Intestines
A Body Of Work Contest
Sponsor : Viv Wigley
Date written: September 9, 2016
A quest for power is a quest of faith.
The mythology states rank is gave.
An empty mind lacks the ability to form hate.
Insofar, what is the maxima that sake?
The drink of the Greek and Roman gods, nectar
Cause a religious uproar, wretchedness
A Trojan prince and warrior killed by Achilles, Hector
The impression made, etchings
Just paint a tale of two countries.
In mentality, one devises a plan.
War fulfills with strategy and plumbs.
An army cannot campaign with only one man.
So greatness, erected
A Trojan champion, slain
Hector falls, dejected
Mythological stated to be, intimidated
Strategy in war is to dishearten.
To achieve disparage, he was killed.
The Trojan War illustriously removes rank and smarts.
Hector was Trojan prince and the greatest warrior ever lived.
Greek is the mythology.
The Trojans are in battle.
In the Trojan War, Achilles took Hector life and his part.
The significant maxim is righteousness was earned.
______________________________________|
PENNED ON AUGUST 07, 2014!
There's no any Achilles' heels
that Hippocrates always heals.
Volodymyr Knyr
2014
Mighty and strong was he,
Better then the most of thee.
Killer of many a man,
Alas to soon his life turned to sand.
Many morn and weep it is clear to see,
For they know no better warrior will come after thee.
There he lies,
and until the end of time,
He will always lie.
The Great Achilles was the best of the best,
For now he lays completely at rest.
Superman’s Other Achilles’ Heel
By Elton Camp
Truth, justice and the American way
Superman pursued every single day
Bullets bounced right off his chest
Everything that he did was the best
A locomotive was weaker than he
Steel he bent with hands, you see
Able to leap tall buildings at a bound
He was the strongest fellow around
Only time he got into a tight
Was in contact with kryptonite
At least that the way the story’s told
But all forgot that he would grow old
For now his hair has grown thin
He has developed a double chin
X-ray vision won’t work with glasses
His reflexes are now slow as molasses
Firm muscles have turned to jelly
And Kal-El now has a beer belly
No matter how hard he may try
He’s now far too obese to fly
This little story may be hard to believe
An elderly Superman’s hard to conceive
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