Twelve Titans of Greek myth gather to do sport,
With my life’s offering in deed and in thought,
And six titans of the written word from past ages,
Stand pens a-ready to fill these very pages,
With my tale which begins where the heart is,
Yes, it is from home, that this story arises.
Comforts of the hearth amass before my eyes,
But of places distant, dog these thoughts of mine.
Stay home or go abroad? I ask and Homer replies,
‘Tis a game of the wheel, sport for the Divine!
Homely Hestia made her choice and it was red,
As round and round the wheel, the ball sped,
Faster than Hermes’s winged feet, it spun,
To halt on black and kick-start my sojourn!
Land and sea stretch as far I cast my eyes,
From one not the other, can I my treasure mine.
To tread or to sail? I ask and Virgil replies,
‘Tis a game of darts, sport for the Divine!
Poseidon cries out, ‘My seas shall you chart!,’
As upon twenty, came to rest his dart,
But in the eye of the bull did her point land,
Hence, dry of feet do I plough Demeter’s sand!
A spring deer gambols free; a sight for sore eyes,
Yet my arrow itches to make its flesh mine.
To marvel or to hunt? I ask and Horace replies,
'Tis a game of straws, sport for the Divine!
To make me revere nature in word and song,
Learned Apollo drew a straw and it was long,
Short was Artemis’ and her urgings to kill,
That’s why it’s from the arts I draw my skill!
As a flash of anger crossed my enemy’s eyes,
So did my briefest of lives fleet before mine.
To fight or to flee? I ask and Ovid replies,
Tis a game of dice, sport for the Divine!
And so Ares, God of War cast a three,
Pledging his might and strength in aid of me,
But a six from wise Athena counselled retreat,
And thusly did I avoid a fatal defeat!
Marian was her name, the apple of my eyes,
Her heart and body both, I desired to call mine.
To love or to lust? I ask and Euripides replies,
‘Tis a game of coin, sport for the Divine!
Had Bacchus called heads as he flipped the coin,
I would have heeded the urgings of my loin,
But the call was Venus’ who set my heart aglow,
With a promise of aid from Cupid’s bow!
Now my race is run, I needs must close my eyes,
Yet one thought lingers, what fate shall be mine?
Heaven or hell? I ask and Socrates replies,
‘Tis a game of cards, sport for the Divine!
To draw first was the goddess of heaven,
Upon Hera’s card was a heart and a seven,
Should Hades beat this, he’ll send me to Hades,
Phew! It’s a stalemate; it’s the seven of spades!
And Zeus rose and said: "Leave it to The Fates,"
"To decide if Cerberus or the Pearly Gates,"
"Now be gone, Titans; you have had your fill of fun"
"And stay your pens, Scribes; this man's story is done!"
