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Your blanket of hair
Beneath a sunflower sky
We’re dancing away
From dangers unseen
Huddled in a shadow
And stolen in a silence
These someday birds
Will wait for us
To rebuild our wax made wings
And try to kiss the sun
Somewhere beyond the veil, far from the claws of civility,
Past the grey building that echos hostility,
Lies a humble hearth that would save my sanity,
touched by the goddess Hestia’s divinity.

Oh! Look-emerging from the lemon orchards is my lover,
Who runs to bring me a four leaf clover.
His golden touch makes me shiver;
I swear you could see his eyes shimmer.

You could taste the saline breeze,
That sprints from the languid sea;
the waves thrash in a symphony-
My brush drips with aquamarine.

You can smell the warm honeyed sky,
Curling from the fresh baked pies,
Or from the midnight hyacinths that cry ,
That my golden one helped reach the sky.

Those delicate fingers pluck the stings of  the lyre,
Resonating a rhapsody the gods admire,
That fills my heart with desire,
As I look dumbstruck ,this heartthrob I’ve acquired.

You say,“when you know you know”,
And I think I will finally  grow’
With my arms linked with my beau’
As we cocoon under the weeping willow.

But  my ears rings with screams,
As I realise it was all a dream;
My sheets wet from the streams-
Was it all just  my mind’s scheme?

My world now is once again grey.
I don’t know how will I go about my day;
My hands have no-one  left to sway,
For I am as lonely as they say.

You tell me, that memory I should not save,
But my heart is not that brave.
For after all, I am my grief’s slave-
You know each day I wish I were in my grave.
this is a lyrical tour of love, loss, and yearning, interwoven with imagery informed by Greek myth. The poem is a journey through a dream world in which the warmth of divine affection and the intensity of the world come crashing up against the cold realities of the everyday. Rich with symbolism and hue, the speaker moves through the ecstasy of an ideal world and the despair of finding oneself awake in a world of solitude. The poem combines the otherworldly loveliness of nature, the emotional power of music, and the uncooked force of myth to forge a haunting meditation on the difference between dream and waking life. ( if you read closely the lover is Apollo). it is modern twist to The Song of Achilles
Carlo C Gomez Jan 16
Looking back at life brings on a shiver:
landmarks and stygian fragments,
radiant corrosion.

Will my feet still carry me home?

The morning breaks,
turn the blue skies on!
we're committed now,
guided by a God few know.

On Earth the math is made up,
8 billion people
and 1,000 questions,
out here the days
are numbered differently.

But in the ether aura
there are silent obligations:
we're trading passengers midflight
--the jester and the acrobat inside the LEM,
Marco Polo on the rocketship,
we're eating the survival kit,
making postcards of the trip.

All spoils for survivors.
Post signs for a near perfect disaster.

You are on my mind.
You are in my heart.
Are you in my blood?
I would die for you.

If this is goodbye, remember,
these things happen...
Inspired by the "Earthrise" photograph taken from lunar orbit during the Apollo 8 mission.
Jack Groundhog Nov 2024
Athena turned ’round her head
like a night owl on the sly
and looked up behind her
as gold Apollo crossed the sky,

riding with his four coursers’
flying gilded manes and hooves.
Their silver flanks and quarters
thunder across the earth’s blue roof.

The rhythm of their beat
stamps a lyric all their own,
blood coursing with the heat
of the sun-disk they all towed.

The she-god of the wise
observes this cloud-streaked scene,
the man-god shining out,
casting shadows ’round Athene.

Apollo’s path is sinking low
as the winter months advance.
The frost now blurs his glow
and bare forests fall into trance.

It’s in this creeping night
that Athena finds her time.
She draws her wisdom in twilight,
no need for blinding light up high.

For she shines not with a sun.
Instead she lights her own pathway.
By her craft and wits she’ll run
her own trail she blazed today.
Inspired by a statue of Athena in Park Sanssouci in Potsdam. She is posed looking over her shoulder, and at the moment I saw the statue, she seemed to be looking at the setting sun.
My hands that reeked of death.
I was stained before I knew.
What it meant,
What loss entailed.

I was different once,
Now I'm different too.
The loving gaze,
Reached me from the stars.

One faithless day.
I watched me die.
What I could've been if I never knew.
You stared at me like the gravel.

I laid to rest,
All my innocence.
The light inside me,
Snuffed before it could form.

The cold metallic taste now stuck,
Clinging onto me.
Like nothing ever will.
Because I will always reek of death.

And I will mourn for you.
For what I could have been.
Your life that had only just begun,
Pretending that it was enough.

You will never know what it is, to stop.
-Persephone
You stole me.
Pyrrha May 2023
For the first time in months,
I prayed
Before my statue of Apollo,
I kneeled
With my candle lit
I held my open palms to the sky
I cried
Before Apollo,
I begged
For the first time in months,
I had to believe
There was something beyond me
That could bring you what you need
You have ruined me.. all I can think of is the sun glinting off your spun-chocolate hair, the infinite depths of your sea-blue eyes. All I dream of is your honeyed voice telling me that I am different; I am loved.

You have ruined me. All I hear is static when you aren’t here, that flat, buzzing, grating sound of nothing and everything coming all at once. All I see is uncertainty and anxiety and empty eyes when you aren’t beside me.

You have ruined me, but so did Apollo to Icarus, and Orpheus to Eurydice. To love is to ruin, and dear god, I am irreparable.
Something I wrote awhile ago and never got around to posting.
Omarcito Jun 2022
Karim disintegrates
To the madness of the Brightest Star
In the fog-thickened day.

That star,
Empowered with the strength of a
Thousand soldiers
And their passion,

And the cunning wit
Of the Great Apollo,

Stretched the fabric of linear veil to pause
The illusion of society

For a moment

Outside of dementia
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