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Pallas Athene laments the judgment of Paris

Hera, girl, here’s what I think – we should go and have a drink.

Once again, by Fate’s fell plan, we’ve been sodomized by man.

How did we accept this con? – standing here with nothing on,

whilst a shepherd boy debates which of us he really rates.

Queen of heaven, Wisdom’s ark – but completely in the dark,

even thinking we’ve a chance against Aphrodite’s glance.

I have never felt so daft – up a creek without a raft –

while Paris, with his arms akimbo, leers at that immortal bimbo.

How could he have passed you over? - bride of Zeus and supernova –

seeing rosy Dawn define every (very queenly) line?

As for me, I’d dumped my glasses, bathed myself in milk of asses

(though I know my curves are meagre, men have always seemed quite eager).

But – with fanfare and kerfuffle (calculated most to ruffle

every feeling of her peers) – Aphrodite then appears,

trailing doves and paparazzi, Paris as her willing patsy;

wearing nothing but a smile, unadorned but cloaked in guile.

Though her lips would not melt butter, I have heard a sneaky mutter

intimating that she wrought him round her little finger; bought him

with the bride of Menelaus, thus precipitating chaos:

years of war by rival forces, Grecian fire and Trojan horses.

Once again, by Fate’s fell plan, lust has left us in the can.

Hera, girl, here’s what I think: we should go and have a   

drink        

         or perhaps two..

                          or even three...

Lynn Roberts