New Epic Part One: Iconoclasm

Another epic poem in the works. 1. Iconoclasm To lofty shore the gods were brought To view the war the mortals fought That started with a vulgar slight Against a due religious rite A statue had been madly hewn To pieces small and widely strewn And that the idol be appeased A string of amber mines were seized To cause a statue's face to cave Was an offence considered grave One dare not force indignity Upon a blameless deity And yet the voice of the maligned Expected from within their kind Did not in curses crime condemn But in a hush eluded them The last they heard from Love and War They'd gone to bed at five to four No trouble came to Wisdom's thought And Justice heard no thump nor shot Talent had produced a show From Vulcan's steady hammer blow Among the injured there were none Throughout the total Pantheon The tarnished figure would be odd Or more than likely not a god To Earth they cast their ranging eye To catch the liar in the lie And found a temple plus a trove That first had served to honour Jove Devoted to a faith unknown In he who claimed the mortal throne A closer look had changed their path Away from cataclysmic wrath For making hard to fools exalt The mighty council found no fault The wiser choice for favouring Must be the kingdom neighbouring Where truth and honour may remain Beyond the madman's awful reign Continued probing would reveal The mishap was a front to steal A fortune did the ruler owe To pay his troops to battle go His thirst for plunder left unchecked Would leave the temples robbed and wrecked The tyrant's name, which came of late Was aptly Moribund the Great Opposing, on the side of right The Prefect of the Lands of Light Considered what would be the cost Of his top secret message lost For progress had his people raced And foes with lesser weapons chased But unlike hordes they faced before Their neighbours knew their arts of war A shadow did the sibyls cast With casualties that numbered vast Should now the wrongful war be won By this most evil Moribund And so the gods put their resource To help the prefect stay the course His nemesis's fearsome rise Would overrun him otherwise (to be continued)
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© 2016. Verses by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.