A/N: Hello everyone! So, after two WONDERFUL days of writing these poems, I got writer's block on the very last day. Go figure :(. My creative juices low, I took a break from writing for a little while. In that time, it started to rain outside (only a little fall, naturally. ;) ) and then the Lightning Thief came on TV, so...yeah. This is what I got. Hope you like it. :-)
P.S. I apologize if you had to do any research for these names. I can list about ten to twenty Greek and Roman god names off the top of my head, but that may not be the case for you.
P.P.S. All quotes from the musical used here and in past poems were created by the geniuses Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg, including the ones I've modified. I own none of them, so please don't get angry with me for including them here.
The Olympians
There they were, the six of them.
Upon their thrones on the Olympus of Paris.
Apollo, the light, guiding the red sun through the night that ends at last.
Bacchus, the drunkard, skeptical of everything, certain only of his bottle and the blazing sun.
Morpheus, the dreamer, his only thoughts that of his beloved Venus.
Pan, the merry young faun, playing his pipes to the tune of the day.
Proserpina, lost forever in Pluto's dark realm, her only beacon the hopes of Morpheus.
Hercules, aged and bent but still strong, carrying the weight of the sky on his shoulders.
They waited defiantly for Typhon to come, colossal and enraged, and attempt to smash Olympus to the ground.
And he did come, bringing with him the storms and monsters of that earlier age, of his age.
It was in that first storm that Proserpina fell, dying tragic but content, in the arms of Morpheus.
Pan died next, that cheerful, funny little creature, who died as he lived; playing his pipes to the tune of the day.
The last blow soon came. Typhon bellowed a curse against the Immortals, and out of him flew the last volley of his rage.
It was then that Apollo and Bacchus fell, the light and his shadow, into darkest night.
As Typhon roared, Hercules spirited Morpheus away, back to earth... and to Venus.
There they lived together in bliss, for many long years, every day, their hearts full of love and compassion.
And when the old Hercules at last passed on himself, he was led by his golden-haired angel and his golden-hearted priest back to Olympus.
There, the spirits of Apollo and Bacchus sang:
"For the heroes of the world, there is a flame that never dies,
Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise!"
Proserpina sang:
"The storms can't hurt you now. They cannot last.
The light of a new day will wash away what's past."
Pan sang:
"Do you hear the people sing? Say, do you hear the distant drums?
It is the future that we bring when tomorrow comes!"
And finally Hercules sang:
"Father Zeus, you know my heart's own story.
Forgive me all my trespasses, and take me to your glory."
And so tomorrow came. For all of them.
And there you have it; the conclusion of my three-part saga of the June Rebellion. I sincerely hope you've enjoyed these poems, as well as all the times you smiled, gasped, or even cried while reading them (a bit extreme, maybe, but who knows? maybe you did).
My personal and most sincere thanks to all those who reviewed! :-)
Vive Jean Valjean! Vive Éponine! Vive Fantine! Vive Gavroche! Vive Enjolras! Vive Les Amis!
VIVE LA REVOLUTION!