Friday's Whims of the Time Traveler 33.0: May 21st, 2007

Myth and Roses
by Belinda Roddie

Roll, onward roll, King Midas’s soul,

You’ve turned your flesh to solid gold,

And it rolls, rolls while she tolls, tolls

Your daughter tolls the bells brass cold

While the spiders spin a web, as if in a pirouette

Across your nose while you roll, roll

Into the yellow roses

Fall, slowly fall, Pan, autumn’s call

Your pipe makes you the best of all

And you fall, fall while it calls, calls

The heralds here and the leaves in reddish pall

While the satyrs glare like lights in the crisp breeze of the night

On forest’s walls as you fall, fall

Into the yellow roses

Stay, forever stay, Lord Hades gray

On frosty throne each winter’s day

And you stay, stay while she prays, prays

Persephone, her flowery hair in waves

Priceless souls you both shall never save

They do not wait, nor hold their breath with bate

No, they go their separate ways

And it is he who pays, O’ Hades,

When shall we see sun on winter’s day?

Your love has passion tender, but your heart is rendered

Across the fields of gray and spirits say,

“We wander with no hope upon our lips,

We only glimpse our king, all warped of bliss.”

His hands are cold and pale, he will not delay

Although Persephone shall leave, he shall stay

Though in darkness, he prays that, on autumn’s day

She’ll bring him yellow roses

The work you see here has not been edited nor altered since May 21st, 2007.