Mycenae Lookout

I was re-reading a favorite poem last night, Seamus Heaney's "Mycenae Lookout.". I'm neither a student of Greek literature nor of poetry so my fondness for this poem is based more on it's visceral language and imagery rather than anything more erudite.

If you dismiss poetry as too flowery or self referential I suggest you read this work. Here's a short snippet from the beginning.

 Some people wept, and not for sorrow÷joy



 That the king had armed and upped and sailed for Troy,

 

 But inside me like struck sound in a gong

 

 That killing-fest, the life-warp and world-wrong

 

 It brought to pass, still augured and endured.

 

 I'd dream of blood in bright webs in a ford,

 

 Of bodies raining down like tattered meat

 

 On top of me asleep÷and me the lookout

 

 The queen's command had posted and forgotten,

 

 The blind spot her farsightedness relied on.

 

 And then the ox would lurch against the gong



 And deaden it and I would feel my tongue



 Like the dropped gangplank of a cattle truck,



 Trampled and rattled, running piss and muck,



 All swimmy-trembly as the lick of fire,



 

If the beginning of the poem is too long winded give the second part Cassandra a try. It's less verbose but just as hard core.

I've never read Aeschylus's Agamemnon nor do I know much of that period of history, so I can't comment on the historical accuracy of the poem, but Archeology magazine seems to think Heaney's done a good job. I don't think that's important to the enjoyment of the work, but it's interesting none the less.