An Epos To The Huntress Queen; Atalanta - Poem by Steve Trimmer
The divine child; Atalanta of Calydon
Euhemerists mote not deny thee
Thy father, Iasus, hath left thee exposed
Upon the Parthenian Hill nigh Calydon
Poor Clymene wept in rue (as any mother would)
The Fates in passing flight see Atalanta
To Artemis the message goeth (silver bows do wane an’ wax; arrows fly true)
Her She-Bear so suckles the foundling (benedictions to Queen Ursa)
Til the Silver Huntress doth findeth the child
Raised is She ’mongst endogamous lines (no dearth of sacred honour)
Of Warrioress Priestesshoods; Daughters of the 3-faced Artemis
Tribes where men bow on bended-knee to Her emperies
Enamoured by Her power and eloquence (so we serve Her)
Atalanta so becomes The Mighty Huntress; swift of foot
Adept in combat; an’ all usage of arms an’ wit
Once, at Cyphanta, She meanders in; weary-worn
Fainting of thirst, She whispers a laconic verse to Artemis
A spear She hurls upon an outcrop
From whence came a gushing spring (fountains of holy waters)
At twilight one eventide, a herald approaches Her
An invite carries he, from King Oeneus of Calydon
“In my yearly oblations
I wert remiss
‘gainst The Lady Artemis
Forgeteth didst I
So a boar gone awry
She sends……………to take my life……….an’ livelihood
Cometh thee to my aid…………..or it be my end I’m afraid”
The challenge Atalanta accepts
To kill The Calydonian Boar
For glory! For honour! ; forsooth
Hubris warriors from all parts of Greece
Cometh forth to the call of the disquieted king (Artemis scoffs)
Quoth Lady Artemis;
“What dost Castor and Polydeuces of Sparta know of truth?
Or Idas and Lynceus of Messene knoweth of justice?
Or Theseus of Athens recall Ortygia’s Shrines (The Quail Isle nigh Delos)
Or Peirithous of Larissa recollect of Leros Isle…………naught methinks
Doth Jason of Iolcus hearken still arboreal silence?
What of Admetus of Pherae, dost he keepeth mind for helot profundity?
Dost Nestor of Pylus lay eyes upon ‘s reflection in Primordial Waters?
Can Peleus and Eurytion of Phthia sing matins of un-prosody?
……………nary an inkling have they…nary a thought so effectual
Who is this Iphicles of Thebes, who’s brother smote down ‘r Lady’s serpents in ‘s crib
Or Amphiaraus of Argos?
Or Telamon of Salamis?
Heroes? …………….marry no
‘Tis not they who have the bile so to smite down my boar
As for Caeneus of Magnesia…..faugh!
He who wouldst mutine ‘gainst ‘s own Mother (poor Elate)
Or these fools Ancaeus and Cepheus of Arcadia……………usurpers of divine beauty…………….who dost thou thinketh thou art, to harry mine own boar of Calydon?
No……..only my child Atalanta be worthy of unctions such
If The Calydonian King be spared, it shalt be due to my love for this child………………………The New Huntress Queen”
Scores of warriors met with Hecate
At death’s gate
In attempts to kill The Calydonian Boar
Only one man reveals a veracious acumen (a mind archaic)
Only Meleager would so hunt in team with The Great Warrioress
With approbation of The Fates
Atalanta The Huntress takes down The Boar (Her timely arrow flew)
Meleager so thanks Her for this feat of valour
By aiding The Boar ease into passing
Two Centaurs, Hylaeus and Rhaecus, also lay dead
Gynopathic fools who wouldst make to ravish The Huntress Queen (recalling naught of Cyrene)
They who felt sting of Atalanta’s arrows for their misdeeds
Meleager’s unburned brand
Is soon set ablaze………The Furies cometh;
Til he lay in pile of ashes
Atalanta weeps for him (‘r mirth now ta’en)
An’ wouldst bear his child; Pathenopaeus
In defiance of Zeus
For lion may lay with lion
An’ leopard with leopard
“Curse be to folly laws of Zeus” roars mighty Atalanta
“For The Golden Apples are so mine already” (Artemis smiles gleefully)
“An’ Zeus’s minions may foot race ‘gainst me an’ lose, the winning is mine alone! ! ”
Atalanta defies this New World Order
An’ we, the Tribes of Lady Artemis
Are glad for it
Comments about An Epos To The Huntress Queen; Atalanta by Steve Trimmer
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe