Theseus and the Minotaur
A long humorous poem
For dad.
This tale, which long, but often told,
when I was young, was ages old,
of fearsome beasts and heroes bold;
a maze of stone;
a prince, alone;
of whitened bones and graves gone cold.
The story that I have in store,
of Theseus and the Minotaur,
is one, no doubt you've heard before.
I'll tell in full,
not just the bull,
before it all was steeped in lore.
Asterion: a prince of Crete.
At any sport he’d face defeat.
But play at chess and he’s elite.
He played the court
and won. He thought,
to call such sport a godly feat.
I’ve heard that gods don’t play at dice,
but Olympians are known for vice.
The boy played Zeus and beat him, twice.
This irked a tad.
Zeus was mad.
He cursed the lad, it wasn’t nice.
The boy was in a hairy phase,
with auburn locks oft hard to raze,
so wrathful Zeus duly repays,
his love of puzzles,
with horns and muzzle.
The boy is smuggled to a maze.
Built by Cretans so I’ve heard.
He could escape if he preferred.
So with his father had a word.
No need for stress,
he'd acquiesce
if, with chess, he was interred
The kid would need a foe to face
and soon dad’s fleet was on the case.
See Athens burning in disgrace.
Hearts were rent,
greek youths were sent
and long hours spent in two-tone grace.
Yet all fourteen he soundly beat
and humble pie each had to eat.
Those Greeks are proudest in defeat.
They sought to die!
With each good bye,
the bull would cry, with woe replete.
Ashamed replies were sent at first
and with each year, it just got worse
King Minos thought his son a curse.
With one cheque mate,
deaths might abate,
To bring this fate, a plan he nursed,
Agaeus was the King of Greece.
His princely son gave no release.
The boy would talk and never cease.
If he lost at chess
there’d be distress,
but Ageaus would be blessed with peace.
King Minos (Crete) was not aligned1.
His scholars would, the boy refine.
The bull would lose, or at least resign.
No more deaths,
the King could rest,
live out his years, invest in wine.
Theseus drove the geeks insane!
His chess was bad, his voice inane,
To Minos then the facts were plain,
Just send him in
and end the din,
lest he begin to talk again.
So Theseus walked the darkened maze,
adrift inside the stygian haze,
until he lost count of the days.
His sock unravelled
while he travelled
and on the gravel left a trace.
And time flowed long and deep, before
he found the lonely Minotaur,
but when they played his chess was poor.
The creature sniffed,
slightly miffed,
that this rare gift had been a bore.
Hellenic pride was not T's style
and suicide did not beguile
and after talking (for a while)
he stood and yawned,
reset the board,
again explored the chequered tile.
The minotaur just kept on winning
but found his torment just beginning
the monologue was hardly thinning.
With passing days
he thought of ways
to stop this stupid prince’s grinning.
Day twelve his patience loudly broke,
The caustic prince he tried to choke,
but Theseus, a muscly bloke
thrust out a pawn
with all his brawn
and killed the faun, with just one stroke.
And so Asterion there died
and likely Theseus by his side,
but luckily the gods supplied
flight from the Rock
that thread of sock.
Our jock took stock, and then complied.
A week later, proud, he left the cave.
The princess thought him strong and brave.
"There wedding must not be delayed,"
Minos expressed.
For speed was best,
lest he be left, with boring knave.
And so the lovers sailed away.
His wife swam off within a day,
too tired from all he had to say.
When his father learned,
that he’d returned,
for peace, he yearned. King Dead, in Bay.
And so one learns from such as this,
the tales we tell are often priss;
many parts are changed or missed.
And to fail at chess
Is no distress
If you can best them with your fists.
I keep public notes on my website and am slowly putting my poetry there. Feel free to request more. https://nathanpmyoung.com/#/page/poem
I wrote this as a child, somewhere between 12 and 18, but I’ve made a few recent edits, including this rather anachronistic one