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Brian Payamps Jan 2015
Is time to pay homage to those who paved a path for me. Had a "Dream with in a dream" like Edgar did. No kiss upon the brow, we shook hands and drank tea. Spoke about love and death and all its synonyms like I am to he. Did you kissed her because she died? Were the grain of golden sand that creeped through your fingers  from her broken hour glass? Is this life a reality or yet a dream? For the poor it must be a nightmare to sleep and not see reality. As he vanished right in front of me and left behind a black feather with ink as it came from a Raven's wing.

Pinched my self to wake up from this dream or nightmare. Scared of what might come next. I see snow flakes start to fall from the sky as if heaven is coming down towards me. I look up with my mouth open catching snow on my tounge. I hear a horse gallop and is getting close. He stops right before and asked if the woods are mine? He says, "I know he know he still has miles to go for promises he must keep before he sleeps." As the horse harness bell shakes he ask "before I depart how far I'll go before I sleep in the woods that are lovely, dark and deep. Remember my name Robert Frost, for when I sleep and arrive at your door but For now I must go I have promises to keep, I have promises to keep before I sleep." As he vanishes right before my eyes horse and all I hear the gallops far far away and a solid snow flake falls right between my eyes.

and I blink and I see 21st century man ask a stranger where am i? He smiles and sarcastically said "the land of the free" "we were named New Amsterdam but now is called Manhattan, this hear is Harlem. I'm Langston Hughes let's sit by the river. Asked him how's life? "Life is fine" "I was born for living as are you." "You'll be dogged if you let them see you die for love, so live. You'll make your mark I'll all come one night." Took the elevator to the 16 floor asked him if I was dreaming? He said "of course I died in 1967" as he jumped this time for the first time he yelled "don't let it dry up like a raisin in the sun, dream don't defer". Just like that he was gone.

As time moves back and forth between centuries. I hear murmurs, see things I can't understand stop please the voices are to much for me. Troy, Troy is it burned yet? Homer and William Butler Yeats discuss Odeysseu's journey, Helen and Menelaus king of Sparta.
Stop! Stop! Stop! As I fall from space in fear of my death. I wake up and see the sun beaming through the blinds. The smell of pancakes enters the room and in to my nose, glad is on my face. She said "How you sleep last night, bad dream again" As I eat with my left and write with my right. Time to pay homage i said. Time to pay homage.
Time to pay homage to those Poets I love the most.
Prideful father of two men
Even to his eldest day
Remained stiff and unbroken
While Hector was taken away
His inner strength rivaled steel
Enough to make his enemies kneel
This is an epithet we were assigned to create during English class. Also, this is to celebrate 1.1k reads on here.

I view King Priam as one of the most interesting characters of the Iliad. He has to play the part of king and father, and we can really see how much he loves and honors his children especially when he swallows his kingly pride and begs on his knees to Achilles to ransom Hector's dead body.
Siddharth Ray Jun 2014
if I could rise up
as a Homer's character
and call for ruler
to ebb the inevitable
if I could call you
before its too late
and move my pawns upon you
casting alchemy
if I were to ever know
to define needs and desires
to be hysterically deviant
before it mattered
if I could have seen
what it would been
walking pavements with you
and having an alfresco meal
if I could have keyed
my grandfather’s watch
to exist again in the moment
and dwell on the thought
if I were to ever understand
the sound of clock and
fading pulse of our hearts
to be nigh analogues
if I could have
seen the world’s ends
and ranged my life
between the extremes
if I could have
borrowed your wings
for a span dolled over time
till the lapse of angst
could this be gnarling fate?
or just our folly?
leaving bated breaths and sighs
for there is no time
for there is no tomorrow
to accord with or may be confute
all the static beliefs and floating IFs
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
A bird in an aurulent billed mud-face,Living as a four foot two inch dragon in a San Franciscan cave,
Lifts off from a hot breathed murmur of Gideon.
Even in night the whole grandeur of movement
Soaking in red beeping heart-pangs
Fasten to the thrusts of his arms.
This post of vainglory was the opening of the year.
In July's open pores,
On a spatial plateau of Dodonian oak.
The Penguin
Unveils his weakened voice.
Flattening into a wide arrow
Draped from Carina he
Sails Westward. Barefooted through the Anavros
Molting under deep helplessness and melancholia.
With his inlaid eyes faced askance
The penguin broods
Among the day's songs
Cast into the poetry of the lyre,
Stretched upwards from Paradise Bay to Colchis,
Where his ebony wings
Soak into the palms of Peleus
Suffering only where the arrows have flung.
Downside up, with children in a pocket of blood,
Among supergigantic siren songs and muse poems
Sewing teeth into a spot of Earth
Races towards a column of toppling strakes.
An Interpretation of the Search For the Golden Fleece

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