Gordon G Hall
Writer and Neo-Philhellene

Poetry for Promethians


Send the eagles to feast afresh
upon his liver,
for he took it back, stealing it
so swiftly
from my belly.

That which raged within is
no more,
wrenched from me, gouging an
emptiness, and leaving
but a hollow thing.

I feel the cold coming quick
upon my dreams,
extinguishing expectation,
leaving only

Numbness creeps,
gorging itself upon scant
remnants of that which was,
gnawing hungrily at the innards
of my hardening shell

I cannot see a time
when the flames will return
to my belly, now that they are
chained, with Prometheus,
to that far distant rock.



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Distant Fells
Inspiration from this glorious world.