Apollo's Tea Party

Seated upon your golden throne,
While your heat radiates.
You shine with unbounded happiness,
blinding eyes with joy.

Hosting a party for your friends,
you sit.
Cakes and croquet,
in your fine silken hosiery.

Glow, Glow Apollo!
As a fiery signal
on the world's map.

You've ordered
from a splendid catering service.
Cotton candy will be available,
Along with your famous orange sherbet.

Barbeque grill's smoke,
Clouds; your table napkin.
Your utensils would be bird's beaks and feathers.
The blue table cloth sky-
to hide unsightly marks left
from your last paAAArrr-taAAAay.

Atlas has shrugged his duties
to attend.
The world teeters
and reels as an effect.

Swift Diana,
Little Cupid...
Play no pranks, Pan!
Entertain us with the shrill music pipes!
Nero, dance with your fiddle,
accompany the one on the roof.

Be sure Dionysus behaves!
He has a tendency to be rowdy
as the wine barrels overflow.

Father Zeus!
Argue not with Hera!
Let eyes not wander
over to lovely Aphrodite!
Concentrate, instead, on nibbling on a butter cookie.

Hades and Persephone, come in!
How the muffins are still hot from the kitchen's oven!
No matter how much the old hatred between mother-in-law and
daughter's husband,
has become tradition even at this present age...

Be civil.

Cereberus must be let outside,
Remove the leash.
If he salivates on the newly waxed golden floor,
there will be hell to pay.

At least let him direct,
Poor Homer,
watch the first step.

Welcome Poseidon!
Tuna casserole; What a surprise!
Simply. Delish.

Serve the finest nectar!
Fry Circe's select offering of prime ham.
It is her island's choicest meat.

Enter, Artemis.
Compliment, her , Sun God.
She is, after all, your twin.

Will you forgive Icarus,
This day?
He does not don his wings.
At least declare a truce.

Here! The foreign guests have arrived!
Freya, wipe your shoes at the doormat...
No mud or blood stains.
The same goes for you, Shiva.
Ladies, it must be said now:
Leave all arms at the door.
No talking tactics in front of the children!

Anansi the spider...
come debate with Confucius.
Nostradamus and Cassandra,
Must be left to bicker fortunes' future.

The Queen of Hearts has brought good tarts.
And Mother Goose has brought a blackbird pie,
Baked on your sunny day.

You frown, Apollo,
why? As you go down the roster
of your many exclusive guests?
Is there something amiss
in the list?

There are still those missing, of course.
But be assured,
they will come.
No need to get all hot under the collar.

Surely, there should be no bad blood
between other Sun's of different Fathers?
No squabbles amongst professionals?
Between yourself and Azura Mazhda?
Ra or Malina?

Those are not who you fear, Mighty Apollo?
Then could it be...?

It is because the Mad Hatter,
and the Hare,
have been invited,
To your despair.