Best Charon Poems

Charon—The Eternal Ferryman

The mythical ferryman extraordinaire of such keen gaze,
Who braves the Styx and Acheron in the deepest of haze.  

Charon is a most sordid God who relishes his work as the
“Ferryman of Hades,” carrying new souls to their oblivion.

With an obolus as payment...

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It’s quite a sight
To be rescued by a garbage truck
Before anyone or anything else with luck
Rises
So early this morning

After the big snow

Schools closed business delayed
Road uncut by any car
Birds sleeping in

The synapse of tree limbs white feathered with fins
Reaching out for one another in an...

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Was it just coincidence or the work of hidden powers
that  Jefferson and John Adams passed on within few hours
 on a very weighty date indeed , which was July the fourth,
a  day of celebration uniting  south and north,
and furthermore  a jubilee...

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Behind my sunken, shallow eyes
dissected phantoms draw themselves
and smeared perceptions comprise
a scheme to thwart the wicked spell.

Poignant screens of smoke and screams
lactate upon my lungs
where illustrations scrawl o'er dreams
of twisted eyes and cursive tongues.

And burning embers torture groans
in visual dreams like vocal hymns
the sound a...

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Wading upon the brine of a gloomy sea, 
Upon a floating dory, I sit above this forsaken deep
A creation of shape-less matter, a liquid heap
A shadowy taint covers all directions, no exit to flee

I paddle slowly, my movements are meech
Solitude stalks my soul, avariciously. ...

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Charon 2001
by Michael R. Burch

I, too, have stood—paralyzed at the helm
watching onrushing, inevitable disaster.
I too have felt sweat (or ecstatic tears) plaster
damp hair to my eyes, as a slug’s dense film
becomes mucous-insulate. Always, thereafter
living in darkness, bright things overwhelm.

Originally published by The Neovictorian/Cochlea...

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Nor thunder in the dark, nor flash, nor fire,
nor other pyrotechnics that, they say,
accompany all such events, nor dire
phantasmagorias, going astray

in the unconsciousness. I’m all alone
down by the river which impassive face
turns gold with dusk. The other side is grown
with willows. A bit cloudy; a...

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I stand in the swamp by the riverbank 
clutching a coin I have stolen
as my heart still beats within my breast
It is only my spirit 
that has slipped away
to await the ferryman of Acheron
Charon who
skillfully pilots his skiff
from there to where it flows 
into Styx

He...

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Styx
by Michael R. Burch
 
Black waters, deep and dark and still: 
all men have passed this way, or will.

NOTE: According to ancient Greek mythology, the Styx was the River of Death. The dead would pay Charon, the ferryman of Hades, a fare to carry them...

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I wait for the boat to come
from the far shore of the sky
across the tree tops 
right up to the side of my window
where I sit, looking out
my eyes as glazed and shining as pieces of silver.

If the boatman asks for coins,
I have them ready.
Two...

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