Treasure Island

Giorgio Venetopoulos

(Athens, Greece)

Cro-Magnon


The Cro-Magnon started to preach
the tribe was hanging from his lips;
coarse beastly voice emerged to breach
the lack of speech and concept grips.

He was the shaman of the clans;
in his night dream he visioned game;
the bison herds roam Tundra lands,
his grapheme sounds tried to exclaim.

His bony hands reached up to skies,
his beard was resined and throat clogged,
with growling transmitted advice
to minds that dithered scared and fogged.

'This is a message from the Gods'
his grumbles suffer to pronounce
his language was a growling calque,
he jumps up front, and starts to flounce.

The Cro-Magnon flounces and jumps
upon the crags transmits wisdom
his bony fists lift to aboves
and growls his calque to sky's freedom.

'This is a message from the Gods'
his agony repeats the words;
the message growls throughout the crags
echoes and scares rock snakes and birds.

'This is a message from the Gods'
the rumble of countless hoofs nears,
the earth trembles while he forebodes,
he face-grimace in dirt and tears.

Beyond the crags the human stares,
huge powerful gods - muscles of tons,
become the prey of hunters' snares,
that throw them down beating the drums.

The smiles reveal their broken teeth,
the Cro-Magnons ignite the fire,
and celebrate dancing beneath
the night's dark calls and growls of ire.

Submitted: Thursday, April 11, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, October 08, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

© G. V.04-11-2013 All rights reserved

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