The Lore of the Hydra and Hercules

This is NOT the actual story, but this is how I've always wished it would end. :)

Hercules, oh Hercules; go fight the monster, that beast!

It's leering eyes hateful, glancing upon you as if you were a feast.

A delectable meal for each of its heads, start out with a steady nine.

That means there are eighteen eyes, which are looking at you; if only to dine

On your flesh, oh mighty hero. Do you have what it takes?

Could you beat the Hydra, who originates from a place of marshy lakes?

He, or she, generates fear in the eyes of every person who meets its glance;

Making sure it's that person’s last look, a last chance.

Will you prove yourself to the world; take a sword to Hydra's throats?

Preparing with sacrificial ceremonies, offerings to Zeus; a pair of innocent goats.

Slaughtered on behalf of praying for strength, before tempting hands of Death;

Otherwise known as Hades. Hercules, ready your sword, your shield.

Prepare yourself for this dangerous fight, on a treacherous battlefield.

Feel the swamp beneath your feet, pulling them slowly into the ground;

Your sword is going for a direct hit, its jugular bound.

The gritty feel of blood spilling from Hydra's neck, the roughness of a back bone;

An ugly screech detaches from its mouth, an echo of an unmatched tone.

The triumph you must feel at destroying one head, satisfactory determination.

Before you see that it's too late, the monster has double regeneration;

Instead of nine heads there are now eleven; what shall you do?

As your sword bites into another head; you realize finally your mistake.

At the epiphany made, sharply does your breath intake;

Hercules what will you do, brave hero? How will you fight it;

If it cannot die from normal wounds, where is a faultless plan?

It comes to your mind, a blink of an eye, of what you must do.

A torch is needed, flames abundant; you must burn the beast!

Our hero, you must have the greatest revenge on the deceased.

Cauterize the neck, burn the skin away to a crisp.

Watching as tendrils of smoke snake into the sky, a deadly wisp;

Let the sword slice again and again, since you now know its’ weak spot;

Sparks from your torch licking your skin, its’ flamed tongue hot.

The call of your voice as it caresses your skin, the pain increased;

Leaving you as an open target, a giveaway treat, a little feast.

The Hydra's head lunges for your open chest, a deadly move.

Its' movements graceful, elegant; its' teeth sharp and smooth.

Blink those eyes of yours, because indeed, Hercules, you have lied.

And out from your mouth did it hear a sharp noise, pleads you cried.

The pain twisting through your arm as Hydra devours it; it's just a snack.

Your bones beginning to break as the other heads move in; crack, crack, crack.

The shield you brought is now useless, strewn aside into the sticking mud;

Which is now mixed with both yours, and the Hydra's, blood.

Ebbing away from you, clinging on to some shred of reality;

Hercules your vision is failing, in utter calamity.

Slowly you fall to your knees, the last thing you'll ever see;

As off goes your head, straight into the belly of the beast.

Your torso bent and broken, your sword creased.

It lays in the swamp where it shall stay, never to leave;

Where the Hydra now guards it, it's lungs still breathe.

Hercules thought he could best the creature, but instead it bested the hero;

Who in fact, despite all myths, wasn't a hero, but a zero.

And this is the real story of the Hydra and Hercules, it's olden Greek lore;

But none of you could ever tell what it really had in store.

Author's Note

This is definitely a poem that I am proud of. I will show this to Mrs. Jones tomorrow! :3 (My Mythology teacher.)

Reviews

[Rev. Fr, S. D. Blankens..]

(: I LOVE THIS.

Thank you for posting it in my contest.

~S. D. Blankenship