Midas Poem by Daniel Y.
Midas
Richer than dark chocolate
but just as bitter.
His scales could not weigh his gold
because they could not weigh themselves,
and still he wanted more.
Gold was his god.
Gold he shall have.
An Idol came from a mountain pit,
and gave him the gorgon touch.
He bought palaces and armies
he made wars and threw parties.
But unfortunate misstep left
a special altar for his son- the golden child.
A lone king moves on the chessboard,
with 63 empty acres.
The cold gallery of a shining graveyard.
Whispers call him the widow-maker:
the ornate halls echo with mourning
devoid of human touch.
The flat earth lay at the bottom of an oubliette.
The wine was emptied before it aged.
And the young god chuckled
about this mortal sacrifice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
5/3/2024 8:58:33 AM # 1.0.0.1119
This is an aptly desolate poem about the man who had everything but really nothing. Your language shines with vividness despite the desolation it reveals, but of course that's Midas's desolation - you the poet can summon all the wondrous treasures of the word. I like this couplet HE BOUGHT PALACES AND ARMIES / HE MADE WARS AND THREW PARTIES. I like the opposition between the two items in each sentence. It shows how ridiculous his life had become. And the shock of realization that hits you with the reference to his son as THE GOLDEN BOY. WOW That stings! .