Greek Mythology

I want you to write about your favorite figure in Greek mythology. If I see a Roman name I will cast out the selection. They can be gods monsters or heros. Other than that basicly free rules. Feel free to post questions or PM me.

"Like the feast of Dionysus."
Said destroying angels,
"Eat from this
death cup."

Two seraphim of fire
gowned as death's head
signed their ascension
writing circles of ash
like faded grass where fairies danced.

A rampage of maenads found oriental cities.
The eastern king felt the vengeance of Bacchus.
The stories of western gods
all end the same way.

The Beauty of Life

I am a sculpture
My creations me
I am Pygmalion
One of 3

I was never interested in girls
But loved my art

One beautiful maiden has stolen my heart
She was the fairest of all,
Fairer than me
Her perfectly chiseled features
Dazzled many eyes

I prayed to Aphrodite
For her to be alive
She gave me pity
And my beautiful girl
To live happily ever after
We love and adore

Thanks for kicking it off guys!

Lyric Of Love

O Poet if love were what the rose is and I were like the heart. To love the rose, a love for beauty no woman can take. If any man would be a genuine lover may they gently touch women and flowers. Everyone that will ever love of a woman we love with a noble love. Women have written us great novels of love. I’ve never loved anyone else the way I love them. But can women write as well as scholars can? Love was the word they never said aloud. A novel about love cannot be written while you are making love. It must be real love then if a man gives up his life for a woman. I suppose that there are few men like that left, like actors in a Greek Tragedy. It is noble to die of love. Sweet is death that takes the end by love. After so many deaths, I live and write of love the light guitar. These yellow vowels of bright desire.
     Of all the ways I could say, "You are dreaming," I choose the voice that speaks of love. Is it even possible that we can establish friendship truer than blood itself? What is love? A madness most discreet. Is life not love? What wine? What drug? Love is. Here is love more attractive. Such is love the same beauty that I love. Does love levitate? Is it in heaven? Is heaven any different from where we are? As if an angel dropped down from the clouds.
     I want love in every color, even black! A love that is like sleep, like being born again, vulnerable as an infant coming into the world for the first time. With your love never fly Pegasus to death! There is no world without love only purgatory, torture, and Hell itself. Because I had fancied love a casual improvisation. How rare to be born a human being! The perfect flower of human love.
     Love is more serious than philosophy who sees no humor in its observation. The truth in knowing that we know we lie. Oh, love, let us be true! Of all truths, the face is purest! The face of a poet really is but a flower. Loves only and true value. Oh, let us love until we are one with each other. Know until I loved I never lived enough. How much better is your love than wine! And the smell of your ointments than all known spices!  We all want a kiss, not necessarily with the lips. Every touch is a kind of kiss. To the woman I love, the many words for love come easy to me. I translate into new tongue the language of love letters, of suicide notes. Where the mystery of the lyric hasn’t been lost. Because that is what beauty is.
     Here is the noblest prize that a young man can win. The name of it is love. My love shall in my lyric forever live long. Not philosophy, nor psychology, nor brain alone is worthy of the muse. No thorn goes as deep as a rose, and love is more cruel than lust. O Poet, if you had a rose who would you give it too? Do you love me as I love you? You who love not a poem whatever its skill may be. Do not grant forgiveness to those who have never loved. If one should love you with real love. To be loved without lover is to be nothing at all.
     If you follow a faun to its home you will find love. Some say my love has gone to France. The eye reads words where it goes, and speaks all languages of the rose. Love, like a flower, will fade, will blossom into something else entirely or it would not be a flower. Oh, learn to read what silent love has written. Let my lyric be my eloquence. We can hear the voice of the nightingale sing the chorus of the dryads. How free it is! You have no idea how free. Love itself shall live on. For love like ours is proof enough!

Persephone's Rising

She was stolen from the Earth,
dragged to the Underworld,
held against her will.
Days went by without her taking food
or drink, fearing that any consumption
would hold her captive
there for eternity. Never to see
the Spring, Summer, Fall or Winter
again, to smell the sweet floral
scents of the earth awakening
in all their glory. To see her Mother who
ruled the Autumn fields, or her Father,
who ruled over all, from his
station in the Sky. She wept at
the thought. But, did not know
how much longer she could
hold on. Time passed and her
hunger grew stronger than she
could bear.  She succumbed
to the sweet berries of Pomegranate,
and the thought that she would be forever
lost to the Underworld. Slowly, she began to
enjoy greeting and meeting those that
joined her there. Helping them cope
with the after life, making their
journey an experience guided
by her love and beauty.

On the Earth, her Mother struggled
with her disappearance. She no longer
cared for her fields of grain. Her many tears
did nothing to feed them and they wilted
to stalks as dry as her heart. Nothing could sway
her sadness.

On seeing this, her Father struck a bargain
with the Ruler of the Underworld. He missed
his daughter too, and could no longer bear
to be apart from her. Six months out of the
year, she would be able to return to
the fields of flowers that could only
be matched by her beauty. Giving her Mother's
heart rest. During the Fall and Winter month's
she would remain in the
Underworld helping and comforting
those through their journey of death.

The six months that she wandered
the Earth, her expectant mother made
sure she rose above through the most beautiful
flower gardens, fragrant and bountiful during
her stay. Here she painted flowers, and gave them
names. Growing the most beautiful varieties. Before
she had to submerge yet again, herself to the Underworld.

Her Mother saddened by her departure
would let everything around her fade, crumble
and return to the earth. During those six months
the Earth was bitter cold, dry and held no life.
This is why we Celebrate the Four Seasons
as we know them today.

by: Jemac

Theseus and the Minotaur

Through darkness thick as blood he feels his way,
The tunnel wall beneath his hand is cold.
What horrors lie ahead, he cannot say;
Poor Theseus feels more terrified than bold.

A bovine stench assails his nostrils now,
Close by, a dreadful Something scrapes the ground,
Irresolute, but mindful of his vow
He stumbles on, alert for every sound.

With bellowing roar, the beast leaps in the gloom;
Theseus goes down, but thrusts his spear ahead:
Wildly he stabs, screams echo round the tomb.
The deed is done, the Minotaur is dead.

He hurries back, impatient, out of breath,
To Ariadne…and his father’s death.

AN OFFERING TO POSEIDON

http://www.omenaheights.com/poseidon.jpg


Tell me oh mighty Poseidon—ruler of the sea
What am I to do to please you
so we may never suffer your wrath again?
How can we live in harmony,
and enjoy the bounty of your domain?

Tidal waves and tsunami—
all within your total control
countless lives have passed away
trillions worth of property damaged
young orphans left behind
without food and shelter for days
their dreams shattered
gone with the mighty wind
their lives forever changed
their future is bleak
because their spirits are weak.
Please have mercy
I beg of you, oh mighty Poseidon
they have suffered enough already
spare them next time!

Would you like to hear a love song,
or a poem honoring your glorious past?
How do you like ambrosia?
That's one thing
I could afford to give
to appease your anger
other than my old love songs
and sour poetry,
‘cause I’m one hell of a chef.
But then, if nothing else matters
to your godly image—oh mighty Poseidon
you can take my breath away
instead of those innocent lives
because that's all I got!

                       

A Hollow Box

A hollow box once stood.
Alone in an empty room.
But the king understood,
The box would bring doom.

The box was given to a child,
She was told to never open it.
She took the box, and she smiled,
The first crime, she did commit.

Pandora, Oh, Pandora,
Why did you open the box?
"The box had a mysterious aura."
You're as sly as a fox.

Opening, the now, hollow box.

Night Mother

from the star-sea
she drums and chants
this dark voyeur
will watch you dance

cloaked in shadows
she pulls the strings
whilst drunk on honey
she'll hear your prophecy

we are reminded
every eclipse
of our Night Mother
who we call Nyx

Atlas
free from the hundred handed ones your petrified eyes  gaze the green, yellow and red skies
What’s left of your father looms overhead, you were born of the moon now you stare at the sun
an incestuous relationship between the guilt of the castration of a figurehead  
the weight of stones wrapped in blankets and the times of these stones cast at us  
turning a blind eye is daring to allow so Zeus allowed you to suffer
with the weight of Uranus in what was left spayed and betrayed  
I bet it feels more like the weight of the world, this price that you pay

Dining with Demeter
By H. E. Riddleton
(Hannah E. Reed)

Steel stone teeth glisten
In fragrance and lust
Beneath the Harbor light,
The Harvest Moon.
Rip and Reap and Seek those seeds,
All we have is the night,
Demeter, she dines! She dines with us
Tonight

Charcoal, bloodshot eyes dim
In sight and shore
Beneath the silent night,
The Murmuring Moon.
Yank and Pluck and Pull those weeds.
All we have is the night,
Demeter, she dines! She dines with us
Tonight

Creased, wrinkled brows shrivel
In disdain and endearment
Beneath the brittle night,
The luciferous moon.
Whack and shuck and shed those stalks.
All we have is the night,
Demeter she dines! She dines with us
Tonight

Blistered, sweltering fingers claw
In desire and deprivation
Beneath the Wedlock night,
The fertile moon.
Breed and Birth and Burn those calves.
All we have is the night,
Demeter, she dines! She dines with us
Tonight

Swollen, perspired naves arise
In offering and feast
Beneath the bleeding night,
The ambrosiac Moon.
Wane and Raid and Roast those fields.
All we have is the night,
Demeter she dines! She dines upon us
Tonight

This  was so had to decide. All of you did so good!

Congratulations Mourningcloak! I enjoyed your poem very much...and completely agree...an absolute winner!!

It was so much fun reading them all !!