I wrote this poem in 2015–It’s crazy to see how much my writing has changed but still has the same undercurrents:
A heaven of clouds,
transparent as I spy a lone fishing boat making its rounds.
Zeus sits atop his throne of clouds, malleable and grand
as he grazes through the man-made
and roars his God-like rage.
How does it feel to be a part of the infinite sky?
Closing my eyes as I take flight and breathing in the purest of elements.
I wonder why don’t we all fly,
Then I realize that it is all lies.
As I look down from my coach seat,
Grasping the arms of the chair
As the turbulence wrecks havoc,
A crimson smudge, clotted and diseased
Like a dust storm
On the angry red plant Mars.
Ares glares from the afternoon sky,
Like a blood smear.
As Zeus laughs and taunts
On his throne made of clouds,
Sipping decadent Ambrosia
And avoiding the green eyes of Hera,
Ares, the forgotten son
Plots for revenge and glory
On his lonely, hateful red planet.
My eyes close as the shaking worsens,
A war cry rings through,
As we plummet.
The sky darkens to a hateful black.
Flashes of color
Broken by deadly strikes of red-tinged lighting bolts.
The women next to me screams–
The clouds fall from the sky,
As gracefully as a freshly fallen leaf–
The heavy-set man pleads in Greek–
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Steel meets steel
And the heavens rain with blood.
The gods fall from their utopia,
Beautiful like angels
And graceless as mortals
As they fall from the sky
Like wingless birds.
Faster and faster
The plane swan dives to our deaths
And the sea opens up,
Swallowing us whole
As Hades and Poseidon laugh.