I sat down by the River Styx

grappled with pain

of stinging blackness

       Dead souls across the river

ride of life and death

elevator of existence

cascading to bottomless pit

       Dead souls across the river

ferryman looks straight ahead

sensing endless journey

from one world to next

       Dead souls across the river

coffins split wide open

tormented souls flailing

a solo glacial passage

       Dead souls across the river

hitchhikers step to onyx side

tasting speed in which they sail

cold breeze in knotted sky

       Dead souls across the river

birds of prey spear entrails

frozen pallor of death

seething water of man’s curse.

       Dead souls across the river

warning cries of timid ancestors

proclaim icy slinging of mud

pale white horse of death

       Dead souls across the river

I sat down by the River Styx

Knowing I'd never feel her kiss

My Eurydice

She was taken from me

Dissolved into the mist

And my hand it groped the hilt

As I agonized in my guilt

If I used the blade

Could I see her face?

Would in vain my blood be spilt?

But instead I built a pyre

And for her I played my lyre

I remembered her

Then her red embers

Welcomed me into the fire

I sat down by the river Styx

And listened to the rain

Persephone held for me a cup

And in it all my pain

I stared into her jaden eyes

Having taken my last breath

Into the river she pours the cup

I know at last my death

Fate itself has brought me here

To set upon these shores

Given a guide to offer grace

Heart ceased but life restored

I’ll enter now the afterworld

Free of every grievous ache

The cup poured out and spirit clean

Persephone my soul does take.

I sat down by the River Styx,

which was more like the River Sticks,

so full of brush and bramble,

I could just barely amble

to the edge to meet my fate,

in the form of a godly mate.

Alas, my mate was not so godly

- but he was a hottie -

for he bade me undress right there,

stripping down 'til I was bare,

to make love by the riverside,

the river by which he'd died.

Our bodies spent, we separated,

so I could return to a life I hated,

a life that was minus my love,

since he'd passed on the wings of a dove.

No! My love would not be denied,

so into the River Styx, I dived.

Now back as one are my love and I,

never again to say goodbye.

I sat down by the River Styx,

To watch in trepidation,

Doomed passengers, embarked upon

Their very last vacation.

I sharpened my old crucifix

And held it like a sword.

I pumped it high above my head,

To honor those on board.

Their twisted, tortured grimaces,

I never shall forget it.

Their begging, pleading promises,

Too late to gain forgiveness.

I ate my bread and drank my wine,

And prayed for their redemption.

But I knew it was waste of time

And all my best intentions.

As the boat began to dissappear

Around the crooked bend,

I bowed my head in sorrow,

As I knew where it would end.

For in all my years of bon voyage,

I'd yet to see relinquished,

A single one-way voyager,

No matter how distinguished.

 leaves blowing in the wind

angelic faces imprinted on clouds

fragile flowers tied in a bow

lilac cigars blowing smoke

taste buds tingled

red lips breathing in charcoal covered smoke

legs crossed and thigh agape

reflecting the light from the sun

crescent shaped marks on the back of her ankle

grass prickly and scared to graze against her skin

bench blackened and cold

raindrops balleting through the air

trees swayed and branches entangled in the forver type of love

I sat down by the river of Styx

and tilted a bottle to my lips

admired the smoke

that danced in the sky

her lips were tinged with sin

and sex

her breast breathing in out

heaved with thoughts

chained across

her neck was a cross

she fiddled with it cross

her neck

and bend her tobacco

lips down to the cross

and she shook

with tears

I sat down the river of Styx

and weighed out my sins

and tilted the bottle to my lip

and saw the reflection of myself

aging and degrading 

and shattering 

in my hand

as the bottle slipped from my hands

and the woman 

got up from the bench 

and sat down the river of styx 

and hummed 

a tune 

that 

went 

low 

and high 

insync 

with the sound 

of river 

and slowly she blurred from my mind 

I sat down by the river Styx as I have done before,

I chanced to see the ferryman as in years of yore.

You see I brought with me some souls in need of passage.

The Ferryman says he "What payment have ye for them and all their baggage?"

I have obol a plenty to pay their way now don't look long any do not tarry

For there are many souls and much to carry.

I have a message to give ye,

"The boss sends his regards and remember how it should be!"

I sat down by the river Styx to wait

upon Phlegyas, ferryman of old,

among the uninterred who congregate

and those who do not have a coin of gold.

The boat arrived, I did not hesitate,

but climbed quickly aboard, and acted bold.

Crossing the dark River of Hatred, done;

my trip through Hades, only just begun.

Cocytus next, a wide River of Tears,

where those who spill innocent blood lament.

Upon this score, I knew my slate was clear;

across I rode, and not a coin was spent.

I paused before the next river in fear.

At Phlegethon, was judged harmful intent,

and this River of Fire glowed hot and red,

consuming wicked souls for lives they led.

I passed that horrid stream, but at a cost

of one of the two coins within my hands.

Now at the Archeron, all could be lost,

for paying here had been part of my plan.

I knew Charon could not be double-crossed,

instead, he must be made to understand,

his ferry over this River of Pain

I had to ride, yet my last coin retain.

Upon the banks, I met a neutral soul

who gave to me his coin; he had to stay…

without passion, you cannot pay the toll.

Now for my ride, I had the means to pay;

Elysium was still my final goal,

the river Lethe the last one in my way.

A River of Forgetfullness, I think;

though I’m not sure, for I was made to drink.

(c) 2017 - dustygrein

*** This is written as an Ottava Rima, an old Italian form, consisting of eight-line verses in iambic pentameter, with a a,b,a,b,a,b,c,c pattern. It is well-suited to longer works, and is a lot of fun to craft in. This is a very rough draft, and I am sure will be polished a lot before I am finally happy with it, but it didn't turn out half bad.

I sat down by the River Styx

Watching Charon paddle.

Swish. Swish.

Melodic symphony

Wafting through my head.

I had to see him.

He comes to the shore,

"What'll you pay, kid?"

I look down

And I am a kid again.

I reveal a drachma

And receive a grin.

"Climb on board."

Swish, swish.

The oars slowly churn,

Mixing a cocktail of lost souls.

I watch, pondering,

Is he in there?

Is he lost forever?

Is he-

We hit the shore,

And I spill out,

A waterfall of lost dreams

Charon smiles,

Flips the drachma,

"This is it."

I tip my newly acquired hat,

And continue into the realm.

Cerberus snarls and gnashes,

I enter underneath them,

Passing the wall and gasping.

The Fields of Asphodel teem,

Wandering souls, lost,

Finding nothing,

Yet wanting everything.

This is the place.

Veering into the fields,

His name comes from my lips

Like Cerberus's howl.

There!

I race to him, arms open.

He looks different.

He has changed,

Aged in such a way,

I can't recognize him.

He turns, a gasp escaping.

"Elpida?"

His voice is a sweet breeze.

His arms surround me,

And I am home.

"Elpida."

"Vlassis."

I sat down

by the river Styx

the wrongs in my life

I'm desperate to fix.

As I wait

for Death to show

along the bank

a cat walks slow.

I watch as

he passes Death

while I can feel

my last breath.

I wonder why

Death paid no heed

to the wandering cat

He left freed.

Then I recall

before I'm done

The cat has nine lives

and I only one.