You should know which jaws
I use to maul, and which snarl
is innocent and which is not.
You have to grasp
in which ear to whisper
and in which you have to shout
you should be taught before you cross
the river Styx into which eye to stare
and where to bow, to beg and how
to learn which head of three to fear
and which to pat.
I might bite or maim before I let you in,
but if you try to leave I’ll quarter you alive
despite the fact you’re dead.
Mythological creatures is a fun topic, and when asked to write about it by Brendan at toads my choice fell on Cerberus, the three headed dog. In real life there are only two headed dogs:
Who knows, one day there might be three headed dogs…? I enjoyed your write.
I am glad there is no three headed dog guarding my way into Eternity! Yikes!
Oh, this was fun! I really liked the idea of having to guess which snout will maul. You’ve framed this very well. Viva la.
Yikes! Best steer clear of their way! Good one, Bjorn.
Wow, a multi-mooded/headed guy this is! But it would be my feminine vibe that would urge me to test out which mood was which. 🙂 Love it.
And here I thought all three heads would snap and bite to guard the way. Well written and most informative. “I’ll quarter you alive…” That was funny. I liked it muchly.
Oh, this is wonderful! The voice is perfect for the occasion.
Who are we to blame for not knowing how to entreat the three-headed dog? At least we knew to put coins on the eyes of the dead, to pay the ferryman. All this time has passed and we’re still clueless about death.
Luckily I don’t believe in any afterlife, good or bad…(K)
Ooooh, gruesome. Great voice!
Note to self: Along with the coins, bring some dog treats. 🙂 Nicely done, Björn!
I surely would not like to encounter Cerberus! You explain the dangers in illuminating detail.
Which head to pat and which to fear? that is the question. Wonderful, Bjorn.
oh, this is just absolutely rich Bjorn – totally loved it, every line and every image, concrete and metaphorical!
THIS!!! is poetry!
I love the two-sidedness of Cerberus and of your poem, Bjorn, the idea of not knowing which jaws, ears and eyes are which,
‘to learn which head of three to fear
and which to pat’.