Prometheus the Firebringer
1985
by
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In dust and heat, the Sun does bake my skin with it’s self-luminous rays. The inert curse inhibits every action, and kills all hope of productive days. Then it’s absence bleeds my flesh a bitter blue. The air bites and numbs my bones. My teeth chatter and I shiver and freeze till death. Hunger’s pain sickens my corpus and hardens my thoughts, and yet I beseech ye Powers, as if an inhuman slave. All is not for the best, and the Gods are ravished and delighted in my frailty and failures. I did not conceive my birth, then why must ye curse me with these woes?
The Gods must be appeased with deceptive servitude and false praise. Hard becomes the injured foe and more determined in revenge. Vengeance consumes his inner soul, duality his very actions breed. The Gods have taught me their immoral ways, no creature I deem more important than myself. In strength and endurance I have pride. I relish in hunt the piercing yell which instinctively alerts the soon dead wolf who is pelted as he is in fright.
Patience perhaps will amend these tedious provocations. Till then I enjoy the Spring and Fall in full. Fruits and berries are in plenty, and I rightly utter thanks and praise. With hateful thoughts I curse the Fearful when racked with pain and stress. I speak not unrestrained for freespeech is not for Man. Unlike animals of prey the Powerful I must obey. Let Death’s end rid me of the Gods if I am not exempt.
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About the Book
The myth of Prometheus tells of a powerful Greek Titan who stole fire from Olympus and brought it to Earth as a gift to mankind. He was punished for lighting the world, and modern artists sometimes suffer the same fate. They bring enlightenment only to be shunned; they share parts of themselves only to go mad in the giving. Yet, creation continues, no matter the cost. Sweigart’s creative words bring text alive, and vivid descriptions allow readers to feel pain and despair as well as hear music in their imaginations. The work is challenging in the best of ways as poems entertain until the final page. Prometheus brought light to a dark world, just like artists who pay the price for their brilliance but continue creating anyway.
About the Author
Stephen W. Sweigart has a bachelor’s degree from Temple Univerity in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He is the author of ten poetry books and has worked in the floor covering industry for thirty-five years. He currently lives in Cherry Hill, New Jersey.