December 17th, 2010


There will be several Hades poems


There are some very simple ways to Hell,
but none are for the living. It is hard
to leave the sunlit lands. There is a guard
not only at the Gate; the paths as well

are policed. He found the journey was so long
that he grew tired as death, and could not sleep
and staggered on. The way down is so steep
and each guard needed pleasing with a song

and he would have grown hoarse, but had to please
the guards with songs of innocence and love,
the harmless pleasures of the world above.
He had not thought such monsters could find peace

in such – gryphons and chimeras and weres -
could rest and lay aside their savage cares.

(no subject)


From miles away, he heard it. Less a growl
than pine woods splintering in some great storm
or earthquake rumble. And its breath was warm,
a rushing wall of dogbreath stink. Its howl-

for sometimes its three heads screamed in their sleep.
The dreams of those in Hell are dreams of Hell
and of its tortures. And Hell's beasts as well
feel pain and nightmare. Its six eyes would weep

dreaming of chasing some gigantic hare
it never caught, and snapping at prey' heels
and tangling its three necks. Cerberus feels
more knots than necks. Orpheus strokes him there

just where the pain is. Strokes behind the ear
And sings to the poor beast. Forgets his fear