Cyclops' Pain 

Over the rolling hills of green,
The sun sinks like a heavy golden ball,
Lighting up the sea like a glittering cape of a queen,
Spreading rainbow rays of twilight upon my hall.

Tired from the long day,
I lift my staff and blow upon my horn,
My flock of snow-white sheep move my way,
Rams, and ewes, and lambs just born.

As they pass me by,
I count each woolly head,
All hurrying towards their pens before my eye,
And their large hay filled bed.

As the last trots a head of me,
I turn to gaze upon the sunset light,
A lovely sight to see,
When the day turns to night!

The sun is now gone,
The stars above my head appear,
Only to vanish at the morrow's dawn,
And to hide in the sun's brilliant mirror.

Shifting my heavy load of dry bough,
In my home I let down my weary load,
And begin to fill my flock's empty trough,
Ignoring the ache of my feet from the day's long road.

I rounded the mothered ewes and their lambs,
And led them to my milking stools,
All were healthy from good feeding and watchful rams,
My skillful hands milked artfully for they were my tools.

Milk for my dinner set now aside,
With brushwood I fed my dying fire,
In the red glare I saw men who tried to hide,
My quick eye did spot though my body had begun to tire.

Angered by the presence of trespassers,
I barely controlled my longing for blood,
To have the meat of men for my dinner,
And find my voice, as I should.

"Strangers," said I, "who are you? And where from?
What brings you here by seaways - a fair traffic?
Or are you wandering rogues,
Who cast you lives like dice, and ravage other folk by sea?"

One of the men stepped forth,
A bold and cocky man I saw,
The words from his mouth sounded like ash from a hearth,
As he stood in firelight and had the gaw.

"We are from Troy, Achaians, blown of course,
By shifting gales on the Great South Sea."
His words were as empty as his purse,
So, a wanderer, a vagabond, and a beggar were he!

He, the man who stood before me,
Perhaps was a fighter, who killed and stole,
A thief, a wanderer, a rogue was he,
A thieving bad man on the whole.

Angered at this thought, I spoke,
"Tell me, where was it, now, you left your ship?"
His reply was one that made my anger smoke,
And it was then, perhaps, that I began to flip.

Two fellows of his I did snatch,
One man for each of my hands,
Swallowing them whole and admiring my catch,
Of the rare taste of men from distant lands.

With a bite of man and a gulp of whey,
I had captured my dinner for many a days,
The men were too small and dumb to get away,
So sleepily I laid where my flock usual lays.

A dream filled sleep I did have that night,
Of a chase in which I could not see,
Only sound and smell did penetrate the dark light,
And the thought of it coming to pass scared me.

As the dawn was rising early that morn,
I set out with the flock to the meadows,
And my den was sealed for men to mourn,
Despite the hopes of becoming great heroes.

The day went fast with a lust for meat,
I watched faithfully my hungry sheep,
Imagining a large lovely feast,
With meat of men and whey on my table sheet.

So when the sun began to sink low,
Towards the line where sky meets sea,
Gratefully I herd my flock in slow,
With plans for my meal-to-be.

When at last I returned to my den,
I did my nightly chores and duties,
And with my flock secure in their pen,
I milked the ewes and settled my woolly beauties.

Eagerly, at last, my hand did seek, 
The warm body of a man,
All coward in the corner like the weak,
And one I grabbed and brought to me with my hand.

My feast was delicious and good,
The meat of men had never tasted better,
When it is eaten by a warm fire fed by dry wood,
And in a large cave like shelter.  

To my nightly satisfaction, 
The men offer me a sip of their wine,
So to my feast is this conclusion,
This sweet wine came from a far away vine.

In my good humor, I dared to ask,
"Tell me, how are you called?"
To the man who remained behind a mask,
Curious I was of he who remained nameless.

"My name is Nobody: mother, father, and friends,
Everyone calls me Nobody." 
Replied swiftly though his did bend,
And in my drunken humor tricked.

So I lay down among my beasts,
Drowsiness upon my crept,
Full my belly was from the feast,
And so well that night I slept.

From my happy slumber, I was suddenly awoke,
As a jolt of pain shot through my eye,
Jumping up I let out a scream at the stroke,
And clawing around for the men nearby.

My hands found no men,
For they had hid themselves well,
Somewhere in my large den,
But then my eye had begun to swell.

My fingers moved along my face,
Searching for the blinding spear,
Until my fingers found that place,
And pulled it savagely from there.

My friends had heard the fuss and came to see,
"Why do you cry so sore in the starry night?"
But when I told them who had wronged me,
They laughed and left my in my plight.

In my blindness, I opened my great door block, 
And stayed near to seize any man who passed by,
Unfortunately, all I felt were my faithful flock,
But I could not see with without my only eye.

I noticed that oddly my head ram did go last by,
So I petted him softly and spoke more,
"Can you be grieving for your Masters' eye?"
Pass me he did but I stayed alone by the door.

Far out by the sea later that morn,
I heard the voice of Nobody, the Trickster,
I ran forth and despite the eye I did mourn,
I found rocks, threw them, and created quite a stir. 

"Cyclops, if ever mortal man inquire,
How you were put to shame and blinded,
Tell him Odysseus, raider of cities, took your eye!"
His voice taunted me from a far.

I gave a sob of pain, anger, and mourn,
Then gathered my strength enough to hail,
The One I knew would avenge me in turn,
And show this man whom would prevail.

"Oh, my Father! Lord of the Sea!
Avenge your son who has been wronged!
Destroy the man, who blinded my only eye,
He who stole my sight from me!

"Cast his timber ship upon the stones of the sea,
Send waves to drown his men!
Odysseus the Trickster, may the gods avenge,
And may all the gods curse you and your family!"

By now the cries of Odysseus's ship was gone, 
Alone on the hilltop I did stand,
Everything I had held dear was gone,
Solemnly, up to my face went my hand.

In a haze, I stumbled back to my lair,
Tripping on stones and scraping myself,
Only to find that nothing was there,
Save a bucket of milk on a high shelf.

So I drank the milk slowly, 
Mourning the loss of my sight,
Remembering my dream knowingly,
And regretting last night.

For how long I sat alone in my lair,
Unmovable in the chair by the ashy fireplace,
It could have been days or weeks out there,
I sat like a stone with a mournful face.

My life seemed useless and over all the same,
What to do now and how to regain my pride?
For what happened, only the Trickster is to blame,
But should I stay in my den and hide?

No, I must go forth once more,
Search for another flock to buy,
From here or any other shore, 
And start over by and by.

My sight I shall never regain at all,
But my pride I shall someday,
With the name of the man who started it all,
Mine will be revenge one day.

Side Note

Cyclops' Pain was part of a writing assignment for Honors 10th Grade English (2000) while we were reading Homer's The Odessey. It is certainly the longest poem I have every penned, and I wrote it in two days, jotting bits and pieces down during school.