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Poetry & Stories: Petreides’ Hamartia

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An epic poem by my son Christian.

Sing goddess, of the procrastination of Peter’s son Christian
and its devastation, which put pains thousandfold upon his GPA,
hurled in its glory to the house of hated C’s, and his strong soul
of a hero quailed at the thought of the righteous punishment
from parents, and all authority, when their will would be accomplished
through grounding, and extra homework, since that time
when first there stood in division of conflict
Peter’s son, brilliant Christian, and the most baleful appanages.

Which mortal was it that set them in bitter collision,
these two, Petreides and the curs?d homework?
Peter’s son and Noel’s, Smith, who in his desire
for enjoyment beseeched godlike Christian, and came
and sat before him with his left hand embracing the strong knees,
and took him underneath the chin with the right hand,
and so supplicating he poured forth his heart to blameless Petreides, saying,

“Son of Peter and scion of Zeus, resourceful and guileless Christian,
if ever before by word or faultless action I did you favor among mortal men,
now grant what I ask for. Tonight in the soft evening I and my relations,
brown-haired Emma, and MargaretAnn, daughter of Peter of the pages,
and Garnett the pink-footed, will in our joy of life play dodgeball,
and jubilantly race around the living-room in the pride of our strength.
If you would not sit and read ancient tomes of books, and learn
shining facts of Homer and other learned men of old,
then join us in the buoyant vibrancy of our youth semi-eternal;
throw away the cares and impediments of tomorrow.
Come, play with us in abandonment, for delightful is the merry-making
of friends late in the soft evening and dark night.”

So saying he gathered together his friends and relatives,
brown-haired Emma, and MargaretAnn, daughter of Peter father,
and Garnett the pink-footed, and these in the allure of their infancy
cast forth their gaze irrefutable upon Christian, and he,
even in the strength of his will could not refuse their bambi-eyed stare.
As a mouse, grey with silent hiding, comes forth to sniff the cheese,
ignoring in his hunger the reek of human engineering,
and so is caught by the neck, and the dark death clouds both eyes
and the cheese is left hanging in his mouth uneaten,
so the shining son of Peter felt grim wariness of a trap in this proposal,
which appeared faultless and perfect in its presentation,
but he in kind intention toward all stood forth and addressed them,

“Friends of Zeus and un-grieved kindred, my heart
and my own proud spirit drive me to accept this proposal,
at the price of leaving my hateful homework unfinished,
but mortal life is short, and it is good to take part in games of strength and youth semi-eternal.”

So speaking he readied himself for the strong encounter,
and was immediately hit in the chest below the nipple
by the plush ball far-shadowing, but he in his strength prodigious
sent it back against the attacker, Smith of the shining forehead.
The spotless plush tore through his arm upraised, and struck him
full upon his glancing forehead. He fell full-length
on the carpet and the dark mist clouded both eyes.
The shrieking and shouts of triumph rose up together
of children hitting and being hit, and the ground
lay covered with the laughing bodies of the fallen.

So all throughout the soft evening Christian
the blameless son of Peter, was caught valiantly struggling
in the strong encounter. Many times he felt as if his
mighty sinews had come unstrung, but Apollo had been swift
to bring back the strength to his tired limbs and
give his knees their spring beneath him. At the time appointed
Hyperion the sun god ceased his shining delightful,
and the godlike Smith retired to his shelter. Also his relatives,
brown-haired Petreseis, and MargaretAnn, the blazing-eyed,
and Garnett of the pink feet, each of these went to her shelter
where they went to their beds and took the blessing of slumber.

But Christian the resourceful, blameless Petreides,
once again did battle with his hateful homework. Throughout
the immortal night his sweat dense-running dripped
in torrents off his face, and his heavy hands pounded on the keyboard
with all their fury. But at last the might of his bane proved
too much for brilliant Christian, the shining son of Peter.
He in his sorrow tenfold determined to turn his homework in late
and forgo the ten percent of his grade imperative.
He went to the shelter of his ever-welcoming bed,
to gave in to the blessing of sleep, and as he came to his cherished bed
he fell into it, thunderously, and his bed-clothes scattered upon him.

posted by Peter J. Leithart on Thursday, September 21, 2006 at 9:36 pm

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Poetry & Stories: Petreides’ Hamartia

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