Line-breaks ahoy!
30 October 2005 08:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
larryhammerBecause I'm feeling in need of self-indulgence, the opening of "Seven Myrmidons Against Thebes," the fourth story in the cycle:
The war was going badly. From the start,
It'd been a mangle-managed martial dance,
From heralds poorly tutored in their art
To not securing sympathizers in advance.
And yet, the bold invaders had a chance
For Thebes could not agree upon a liege--
And so the army settled into siege.
A hot and dusty time they had of it--
That windy summer was especially dry,
And every wine-skin had its share of grit.
Worn soldiers muttered, bored with standing by,
With bitching past the usual supply--
For lack of action made them pity wallowers:
There was a drought of far too few camp-followers.
So when two edgy sentries on the road
Stopped one man with six women of his own
Trying to reach the town, the soldiers crowed,
Thinking they'd have some fun. "Go on alone,"
Said one to him, "these birds are ours to bone."
His laugh was cut off, suddenly alarmed
By women bristling sharply: they were armed.
The man glanced nervously at his attendants
But didn't interfere. The sentry froze--
The spear- and arrow-heads were bright respendents
Glittering straight at him. His partner chose
The route that rankers take when they're exposed
To unmapped problems: find an officer.
The women let him go without demur.
After some pointed minutes, he returned
With a commander, dusty from patrol.
Sir looked them over as if unconcerned,
While drinking from a skin--then broke his role
When he saw who here really held control,
Greeting a woman, "Hullo, Cyrene."
She answered, "Amphiaraus," smiling easily.
They clasped right arms. The women, bows withdrawn,
Stood down. The chieftan grinned. "So, it's been, what,
A year ago last fall, since Calydon?"
He shook his head. "Bad business that.
What brings you myrmidons to see our spat?"
"A Theban lawsuit--if you'd let us through."
Without regret, he told them, "No can do."
"Why not?" another asked, shifting her spear.
Then she was introduced by Cyrene:
Lampito, husband's other wife, her peer.
He bowed and told them, "It's a seige, you see--
No in nor out--not man, not dog, not flea."
"But we are only women." In reaction,
The chieftan laughed. "I've seen you gals in action."
Then added, "What's got your chitons in a twist?"
"Tiresias the Seer knows we're coming,"
A woman answered, stepping from their midst,
To show a nine-month babe, who squirmed, mouth-thumbing.
The men recoiled: hermaphroditic plumbing.
Another sign made its paternity quite clear --
It had the seer's unmistakable ears.
Rough first draft, but there's some good stuff in there. Makes me want to get back and write the rest. Incompletely civilized ant-women rip up the Oepidus cycle -- what's not to love? Well, aside from the clunking of dialog against verse. I rilly need to learn how to handle that better. By doing it.
---L.
The war was going badly. From the start,
It'd been a mangle-managed martial dance,
From heralds poorly tutored in their art
To not securing sympathizers in advance.
And yet, the bold invaders had a chance
For Thebes could not agree upon a liege--
And so the army settled into siege.
A hot and dusty time they had of it--
That windy summer was especially dry,
And every wine-skin had its share of grit.
Worn soldiers muttered, bored with standing by,
With bitching past the usual supply--
For lack of action made them pity wallowers:
There was a drought of far too few camp-followers.
So when two edgy sentries on the road
Stopped one man with six women of his own
Trying to reach the town, the soldiers crowed,
Thinking they'd have some fun. "Go on alone,"
Said one to him, "these birds are ours to bone."
His laugh was cut off, suddenly alarmed
By women bristling sharply: they were armed.
The man glanced nervously at his attendants
But didn't interfere. The sentry froze--
The spear- and arrow-heads were bright respendents
Glittering straight at him. His partner chose
The route that rankers take when they're exposed
To unmapped problems: find an officer.
The women let him go without demur.
After some pointed minutes, he returned
With a commander, dusty from patrol.
Sir looked them over as if unconcerned,
While drinking from a skin--then broke his role
When he saw who here really held control,
Greeting a woman, "Hullo, Cyrene."
She answered, "Amphiaraus," smiling easily.
They clasped right arms. The women, bows withdrawn,
Stood down. The chieftan grinned. "So, it's been, what,
A year ago last fall, since Calydon?"
He shook his head. "Bad business that.
What brings you myrmidons to see our spat?"
"A Theban lawsuit--if you'd let us through."
Without regret, he told them, "No can do."
"Why not?" another asked, shifting her spear.
Then she was introduced by Cyrene:
Lampito, husband's other wife, her peer.
He bowed and told them, "It's a seige, you see--
No in nor out--not man, not dog, not flea."
"But we are only women." In reaction,
The chieftan laughed. "I've seen you gals in action."
Then added, "What's got your chitons in a twist?"
"Tiresias the Seer knows we're coming,"
A woman answered, stepping from their midst,
To show a nine-month babe, who squirmed, mouth-thumbing.
The men recoiled: hermaphroditic plumbing.
Another sign made its paternity quite clear --
It had the seer's unmistakable ears.
Rough first draft, but there's some good stuff in there. Makes me want to get back and write the rest. Incompletely civilized ant-women rip up the Oepidus cycle -- what's not to love? Well, aside from the clunking of dialog against verse. I rilly need to learn how to handle that better. By doing it.
---L.