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Write a poem for National Poetry Month based on the topic described....rather, write a poem set in, pertaining to, or inspired by the given region, whether its entirety or just some part of it, as this year's prompts are going to be unified by the theme "Around the World" like last year's prompts were unified by the theme "Esoterica". Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread. There are three levels of participation:
Bronze. Participated at least once.
Silver. Participated every day.
Gold. Participated every day, with all entries either being the same form (e.g., every one a sonnet) or being distinct forms (e.g., no two haiku).
Regions are back to being more exact. Today's region is the transcontinental Anatolia and the Caucasus.
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Hemiola
Panic as a Carian hemiola
rushed upon its Rhodian prey existed
centuries before there were Turkish pirates
off what was known as
Asia Minor for they did not conceive yet
how huge the remainder of Asia could be.
For them, Anatolia held sufficient
challenges such as
Trojans and Isaurian mountain raiders,
Hittites, Persians, promise of gold, adventure,
and the epic March of Ten Thousand – “Lesser”
Asia was plenty.
Non-practicing atheist
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A Prometheia
The eagle sinks its beak into his side
and he no longer screams nor even groans,
the only sounds to be heard are the bird of prey
tearing his liver to shreds---the stretching of sinews
and squelching of squirty veins---as well as the wind
howling across the canyon where Qaydukh's elbow
once shone as the moon to guide her foolish husband
when he rode out to plunder herds of cattle.
At first she blamed the raptor for his death,
the spreading of its wings an untimely cloud,
but she could not deny how much he grated
with his incessant boasting: she had to leave,
again in the garb of a man, and find herself
another partner in crime. For years, she ranged
from bed to bed, until she found Sozruquo
whose eyes were sharp, whose words were meek in scale,
whose cloak was a roof, and whose breath was a hearth in the rain---
meanwhile, the eagle finds a broken chain,
and now there is only the wind across the vale.
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older than ever
on the silent plains
of ancient Anatolia
a faint echo
from Gobekli Tepe arose
asking us
to open our ears
beyond the history
we tell ourselves
