Image borrowed from Bing
Of Bicyles, Gods, and the Doghouse
Mars and Vulcan,
rough boys playing rough games,
riding their bikes,
shrieking, bells clanging and brakes screeching,
up and own the long corridors of Jupiter's
workshops for the manufacture
of thunder and lightning.
Jupiter appeared,
bleary-eyed and hung over
after a long night with one of his many conquests.
By Jove, he thundered,
ear-splitting uproar of unruly youth
all but deafening him.
Send for Juno, my wife,
the companion of my years,
protector of my hearth,
warlike and fearless,
her word will end your games.
Juno, in garments of ire,
her face black with anger,
stood before Jupiter.
My lord, brother and husband,
the revels of the night
have addled your adulterer's brain.
Your tale is told as by an idiot,
full of sound and fury,
signifying nothing.
Now hold your tongue,
allow brave youth its edifying games
and you return now whence you came.
A wanton's couch is waiting
your return.
Chastened, ill-favoured, sick at heart,
Jupiter found his way to Sirius.
Move over Sir, he said,
Tonight it's me who's in the doghouse.
Ursula White
aka: Friko
Posted over on her site Friko's World
Listed as #15 over on Magpie Tales 75
No comments:
Post a Comment