Are You There, Vocal? It’s Me, Again

The Greek gods were capricious

Of this all can agree,

Servants to their many whims

Bored of eternity.

Though worshipped by their people

They could not always hear,

If commoners were praying

Sometimes the gods did sneer.

//

The gods they were distracted

By games of love and war,

To play these games they needed

Great heros, not the poor.

Achilles, Ajax, Hector,

Paris, Odysseus;

Through all these famous fighters

Gods did deeds malicious.

//

So who could even blame them

If they forgot to heed,

The lowlier-type people

Who came to them in need.

After all, what enticement

Could farmers ever have

Compared to Helen’s beauty?

The gods could only laugh.

//

I wonder if the paupers

Grew tired of the gods,

Never seeming to notice

Or balancing the odds.

I think I know that feeling

If it’s not sacrilege,

To admit, I too wonder,

Where is my advantage?

//

It is not from the Greek gods

That I want attention;

No, it’s to the Vocal gods,

That I seek connection.

Challenge after challenge failed,

Nary a top story,

Maybe I’m just not that good

Not an “Ariadne.”

//

And yet, on Vocal’s altar

I will still sacrifice,

Hoping, like the fickle Fates,

On me, will rest their eyes.

If even for a moment,

If I, so bold, could be,

To lure the eyes of Vocal

From “Perseus,” to me.

//

I am a writing pauper,

I think I know my place,

Like the Greek farmers of old,

I’ll still seek Vocal’s grace.

If not, I’ll keep on shouting

Into the empty void,

Even if no one reads it,

My writing gives me joy.

///