A stone I marked with color as a girl,
and placed it upon a pillar with thanks,
and as I stand upon the beach it returns,
the paint stained with humors and blood.

Scattered are all my works. Burned is my home.
Murdered are my children, and mourned are them all.
I wait for a master to take up the leash
that has been placed upon my neck and I despair.

When my love tried to evade the oaths
that an unjust man had put upon him,
they at first pleaded, then threatened,
but he would not move a finger

And then they took my son, and threatened
that it would be his doing should my son die.
No fault of theirs, they claimed,
For only a madman would harm his own son.

As the great ships were heaved into the sea,
Majestically I stood at the prow of the lead,
and proclaimed that I was the forger of the pact
which would reclaim honor against the betrayers.

For I had crushed the nest of murderers,
and taken my rightful place as king,
I paid no heed the miniature vipers
that fled from my heel. Let them find places

My estranged brothers stood at my walls,
and rather than speak of our quarrels,
instead they closed their minds to reason,
and took up the heavier burden of war.

For war grinds down all in the city,
The quarrels of princes become magnified,
A slighting word from their lofty position,
tumbles down the inclined streets,

I told my brother not to go to Sparta.
And when I saw the crown in her hair
And the radiant veil on her face.
I saw the forged fruit that would destroy us.

So I pulled it from her, to cast it out,
for it was not of her doing, not of her make
the gold shimmered with a thousand chains,
and I threw it to the ground and struck it

Keep safe my jewel were the only words
my husband's brother flung at me as he dropped
a shivering and shamed woman upon my doorstep.
hope hidden under a mask of fear and pain.

And I welcomed her. Without hesitation, without doubt
For she had many things to share with me and mine.
Her stories of her youth, her child who still was held
in Sparta's endless muster lists.

I alone took the actions that needed to be done
and it was right and proper that the gods paid
me honors, bribes and flattery. For I know
that it is only the bold that is favored.

For when man speaks of Achilles, they shall always
remember the man who felled the unbeatable.
My greatness, my wit. For it was the great love herself
upon our lover's bed who granted me wisdom's virtue.

What is one son, I hear the fools cry.
What is one child for the sake of the city?
Give him up, give up his prizes,
for the Greeks have come to pillage.

It was not solely for my son's lover that the Greeks came.
And she pleaded with me for him, despite his faults.
When Great Agamemnon raised his voice for his own kin,
I understood why he would never relent.

My lovers dead or taken as secondary prizes,
And what am I given to slate my rage?
I am not to fight against those that have done me harm
instead I am to strike the enemy of my tormentor.

With shield forged for sole purpose of ensuring
that I struck deadly upon the honorable protector
And in return I would suffer no wound to still the blood
no mark of spear to end my struggle. No pain to satisfy

The Logos of Antisthenes is a series of 42 Poems set in the immediate aftermath of the Trojan war.

The poems are mostly in Free Verse. I try to stick to the Heroic Stanza format of Quatrains. However, I don't stick as closely to the rules as is traditional, and I'm perfectly fine with that. Essentially, I wanted to capture the feel of a Greek heroic epic, but with some reflections on the war I fought in.

There are three acts.

1st Act: The Muses.