Damocles Poem by Gert Strydom

I am contended with being the courtier
of great Dionysius,
ruler of Syracuse
and with my solitude
and the glory of God and king
hunger, war, poverty
and natural catastrophe
has avoided me

but when talking out of turn
of the joy, grandeur and luxury
that my Sire enjoys

he invited me as an honoured guest
to a great party
and a banquet table was set
with the best food
that any man could desire

and charming beautiful maids
were serving, as if I were the king
and something strange was happening.

My eye caught a light reflected
on the silver wine cup
and when I looked up
a piercing sharp sword
swayed on the slight breeze
hanging on a single horsehair
above my head
and then I knew dread.