The Gathering of the Spoils

Marcus Julius rose at dawn,

Splashed water on his face,

He’d spent the night at the Lupanare

With a pretty girl from Thrace,

He saw the glow in the morning sky

But shrugged, and went back inside,

Roused the slave from his slumber

Kicked the dog, sat down and sighed.

 

She’d cost him three Denarius

And money was getting tight,

The marketplace had been quiet of late

And his purse was rather light,

He’d made just ten Sesterces

With his trade the day before,

People were getting nervous but

He’d seen it all before.

 

Whenever the ground was trembling

As it often used to do,

They thought of the massive earthquake

That had hit in ’62,

It had razed the Apollo Temple,

They were still rebuilding now,

Seventeen years of minor quakes

Had slowed the work right down.

 

But life went on, and food was dear

With slaves not worth their keep,

He only had one, Antonius,

And all that he did was sleep,

It might have been easier with a wife

So Marcus thought aloud,

But out in the street, he heard the feet

And the cries of a nervous crowd.

 

The sky had suddenly darkened

So they fled, the feeble hearts,

Blocking the ancient carriageway

With their chariots and carts,

He watched the crowd from his window

The Plebeians hurried past,

Soldiers and patricians all

In a jostling, shouting mass.

 

The slave of Marcus Julius

Was more than terrified,

So he chained him fast to an iron ring

By the strongroom, deep inside,

‘It’s only a passing wonder,

We’re not going anywhere!’

He locked his door to the street,

Stood by the window space, and stared.

 

He noted the noble families

Go struggling past his door,

Carrying all of their wealth with them,

And the women carried more,

The day grew dark as a midden

‘Til you couldn’t see ahead,

And people screamed for each other

As the younger ones had fled.

 

Eleven o’clock, it settled down

He ventured into the street,

Lying in piles were goods they’d dropped

In the jostling, and the heat,

For the temperature was rising fast

As he seized what he could find,

Cases of ladies jewellery,

And purses they’d left behind.

 

He piled the goods in the strongroom

Then got ready to shelter there,

Brushed off the pyroclastic ash

That had settled in his hair,

He laughed out loud as he closed the door

But paused by the slave to say:

‘Our lives are going to get better, I’m

The richest man in Pompeii!’

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Jazique]

Was this to Juluis Ceasar story. Either way it was really goodwith details crwated a scene and leading up, much easoer to do in story or book but, poetry a bit of a challenge and to that i say.well done. i see you still have a knack for telling tales and stores like William Shakespeare and Homer. Keep up the excellent work. Can'twait to reaf more of your work. i know ive read of Pompeii somewhere...

[Jasmine]

Depressing, darkly amusing, ironic... I liked reading your parable-like story very much. I look forward to reading more.

[Ravyne Hawke]

Aha! What an excellent write. Another fine Narrative. I love that your language was as antiquated as Pompeii. I knew this was Romanesque, but was pleasantly and humorously surprised that it was Pompeii. Thanks for allowing me into your world once more.

[Marie]

I don'tknow if this was funny or not...but I laughed when I finished it.

[Valentine]

Thanks for the laugh..the ending was not what I had expected..great job on this one..love and God bless Lyn and you..Kathie

[Mic]

Oh, the irony. Guess the fool and his money weren't soon parted, though. Ha!

Excellent write David.