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Never on this side of the grave again,
  On this side of the river,
On this side of the garner of the grain,
            Never,--

Ever while time flows on and on and on,
  That narrow noiseless river,
Ever while corn bows heavy-headed, wan,
            Ever,--

Never despairing, often fainting, ruing,
  But looking back, ah never!
Faint yet pursuing, faint yet still pursuing
            Ever.
Now when Dawn in robe of saffron was hasting from the streams of
Oceanus, to bring light to mortals and immortals, Thetis reached the
ships with the armour that the god had given her. She found her son
fallen about the body of Patroclus and weeping bitterly. Many also
of his followers were weeping round him, but when the goddess came
among them she clasped his hand in her own, saying, “My son, grieve as
we may we must let this man lie, for it is by heaven’s will that he
has fallen; now, therefore, accept from Vulcan this rich and goodly
armour, which no man has ever yet borne upon his shoulders.”
  As she spoke she set the armour before Achilles, and it rang out
bravely as she did so. The Myrmidons were struck with awe, and none
dared look full at it, for they were afraid; but Achilles was roused
to still greater fury, and his eyes gleamed with a fierce light, for
he was glad when he handled the splendid present which the god had
made him. Then, as soon as he had satisfied himself with looking at
it, he said to his mother, “Mother, the god has given me armour,
meet handiwork for an immortal and such as no living could have
fashioned; I will now arm, but I much fear that flies will settle upon
the son of Menoetius and breed worms about his wounds, so that his
body, now he is dead, will be disfigured and the flesh will rot.”
  Silver-footed Thetis answered, “My son, be not disquieted about this
matter. I will find means to protect him from the swarms of noisome
flies that prey on the bodies of men who have been killed in battle.
He may lie for a whole year, and his flesh shall still be as sound
as ever, or even sounder. Call, therefore, the Achaean heroes in
assembly; unsay your anger against Agamemnon; arm at once, and fight
with might and main.”
  As she spoke she put strength and courage into his heart, and she
then dropped ambrosia and red nectar into the wounds of Patroclus,
that his body might suffer no change.
  Then Achilles went out upon the seashore, and with a loud cry called
on the Achaean heroes. On this even those who as yet had stayed always
at the ships, the pilots and helmsmen, and even the stewards who
were about the ships and served out rations, all came to the place
of assembly because Achilles had shown himself after having held aloof
so long from fighting. Two sons of Mars, Ulysses and the son of
Tydeus, came limping, for their wounds still pained them; nevertheless
they came, and took their seats in the front row of the assembly. Last
of all came Agamemnon, king of men, he too wounded, for **** son of
Antenor had struck him with a spear in battle.
  When the Achaeans were got together Achilles rose and said, “Son
of Atreus, surely it would have been better alike for both you and me,
when we two were in such high anger about Briseis, surely it would
have been better, had Diana’s arrow slain her at the ships on the
day when I took her after having sacked Lyrnessus. For so, many an
Achaean the less would have bitten dust before the foe in the days
of my anger. It has been well for Hector and the Trojans, but the
Achaeans will long indeed remember our quarrel. Now, however, let it
be, for it is over. If we have been angry, necessity has schooled
our anger. I put it from me: I dare not nurse it for ever;
therefore, bid the Achaeans arm forthwith that I may go out against
the Trojans, and learn whether they will be in a mind to sleep by
the ships or no. Glad, I ween, will he be to rest his knees who may
fly my spear when I wield it.”
  Thus did he speak, and the Achaeans rejoiced in that he had put away
his anger.
  Then Agamemnon spoke, rising in his place, and not going into the
middle of the assembly. “Danaan heroes,” said he, “servants of Mars,
it is well to listen when a man stands up to speak, and it is not
seemly to interrupt him, or it will go hard even with a practised
speaker. Who can either hear or speak in an uproar? Even the finest
orator will be disconcerted by it. I will expound to the son of
Peleus, and do you other Achaeans heed me and mark me well. Often have
the Achaeans spoken to me of this matter and upbraided me, but it
was not I that did it: Jove, and Fate, and Erinys that walks in
darkness struck me mad when we were assembled on the day that I took
from Achilles the meed that had been awarded to him. What could I
do? All things are in the hand of heaven, and Folly, eldest of
Jove’s daughters, shuts men’s eyes to their destruction. She walks
delicately, not on the solid earth, but hovers over the heads of men
to make them stumble or to ensnare them.
  “Time was when she fooled Jove himself, who they say is greatest
whether of gods or men; for Juno, woman though she was, beguiled him
on the day when Alcmena was to bring forth mighty Hercules in the fair
city of Thebes. He told it out among the gods saying, ‘Hear me all
gods and goddesses, that I may speak even as I am minded; this day
shall an Ilithuia, helper of women who are in labour, bring a man
child into the world who shall be lord over all that dwell about him
who are of my blood and lineage.’ Then said Juno all crafty and full
of guile, ‘You will play false, and will not hold to your word.
Swear me, O Olympian, swear me a great oath, that he who shall this
day fall between the feet of a woman, shall be lord over all that
dwell about him who are of your blood and lineage.’
  “Thus she spoke, and Jove suspected her not, but swore the great
oath, to his much ruing thereafter. For Juno darted down from the high
summit of Olympus, and went in haste to Achaean Argos where she knew
that the noble wife of Sthenelus son of Perseus then was. She being
with child and in her seventh month, Juno brought the child to birth
though there was a month still wanting, but she stayed the offspring
of Alcmena, and kept back the Ilithuiae. Then she went to tell Jove
the son of Saturn, and said, ‘Father Jove, lord of the lightning—I
have a word for your ear. There is a fine child born this day,
Eurystheus, son to Sthenelus the son of Perseus; he is of your
lineage; it is well, therefore, that he should reign over the
Argives.’
  “On this Jove was stung to the very quick, and in his rage he caught
Folly by the hair, and swore a great oath that never should she
again invade starry heaven and Olympus, for she was the bane of all.
Then he whirled her round with a twist of his hand, and flung her down
from heaven so that she fell on to the fields of mortal men; and he
was ever angry with her when he saw his son groaning under the cruel
labours that Eurystheus laid upon him. Even so did I grieve when
mighty Hector was killing the Argives at their ships, and all the time
I kept thinking of Folly who had so baned me. I was blind, and Jove
robbed me of my reason; I will now make atonement, and will add much
treasure by way of amends. Go, therefore, into battle, you and your
people with you. I will give you all that Ulysses offered you
yesterday in your tents: or if it so please you, wait, though you
would fain fight at once, and my squires shall bring the gifts from my
ship, that you may see whether what I give you is enough.”
  And Achilles answered, “Son of Atreus, king of men Agamemnon, you
can give such gifts as you think proper, or you can withhold them:
it is in your own hands. Let us now set battle in array; it is not
well to tarry talking about trifles, for there is a deed which is as
yet to do. Achilles shall again be seen fighting among the foremost,
and laying low the ranks of the Trojans: bear this in mind each one of
you when he is fighting.”
  Then Ulysses said, “Achilles, godlike and brave, send not the
Achaeans thus against Ilius to fight the Trojans fasting, for the
battle will be no brief one, when it is once begun, and heaven has
filled both sides with fury; bid them first take food both bread and
wine by the ships, for in this there is strength and stay. No man
can do battle the livelong day to the going down of the sun if he is
without food; however much he may want to fight his strength will fail
him before he knows it; hunger and thirst will find him out, and his
limbs will grow weary under him. But a man can fight all day if he
is full fed with meat and wine; his heart beats high, and his strength
will stay till he has routed all his foes; therefore, send the
people away and bid them prepare their meal; King Agamemnon will bring
out the gifts in presence of the assembly, that all may see them and
you may be satisfied. Moreover let him swear an oath before the
Argives that he has never gone up into the couch of Briseis, nor
been with her after the manner of men and women; and do you, too, show
yourself of a gracious mind; let Agamemnon entertain you in his
tents with a feast of reconciliation, that so you may have had your
dues in full. As for you, son of Atreus, treat people more righteously
in future; it is no disgrace even to a king that he should make amends
if he was wrong in the first instance.”
  And King Agamemnon answered, “Son of Laertes, your words please me
well, for throughout you have spoken wisely. I will swear as you would
have me do; I do so of my own free will, neither shall I take the name
of heaven in vain. Let, then, Achilles wait, though he would fain
fight at once, and do you others wait also, till the gifts come from
my tent and we ratify the oath with sacrifice. Thus, then, do I charge
you: take some noble young Achaeans with you, and bring from my
tents the gifts that I promised yesterday to Achilles, and bring the
women also; furthermore let Talthybius find me a boar from those
that are with the host, and make it ready for sacrifice to Jove and to
the sun.”
  Then said Achilles, “Son of Atreus, king of men Agamemnon, see to
these matters at some other season, when there is breathing time and
when I am calmer. Would you have men eat while the bodies of those
whom Hector son of Priam slew are still lying mangled upon the
plain? Let the sons of the Achaeans, say I, fight fasting and
without food, till we have avenged them; afterwards at the going
down of the sun let them eat their fill. As for me, Patroclus is lying
dead in my tent, all hacked and hewn, with his feet to the door, and
his comrades are mourning round him. Therefore I can take thought of
nothing save only slaughter and blood and the rattle in the throat
of the dying.”
  Ulysses answered, “Achilles, son of Peleus, mightiest of all the
Achaeans, in battle you are better than I, and that more than a
little, but in counsel I am much before you, for I am older and of
greater knowledge. Therefore be patient under my words. Fighting is
a thing of which men soon surfeit, and when Jove, who is wars steward,
weighs the upshot, it may well prove that the straw which our
sickles have reaped is far heavier than the grain. It may not be
that the Achaeans should mourn the dead with their bellies; day by day
men fall thick and threefold continually; when should we have
respite from our sorrow? Let us mourn our dead for a day and bury them
out of sight and mind, but let those of us who are left eat and
drink that we may arm and fight our foes more fiercely. In that hour
let no man hold back, waiting for a second summons; such summons shall
bode ill for him who is found lagging behind at our ships; let us
rather sally as one man and loose the fury of war upon the Trojans.”
  When he had thus spoken he took with him the sons of Nestor, with
Meges son of Phyleus, Thoas, Meriones, Lycomedes son of Creontes,
and Melanippus, and went to the tent of Agamemnon son of Atreus. The
word was not sooner said than the deed was done: they brought out
the seven tripods which Agamemnon had promised, with the twenty
metal cauldrons and the twelve horses; they also brought the women
skilled in useful arts, seven in number, with Briseis, which made
eight. Ulysses weighed out the ten talents of gold and then led the
way back, while the young Achaeans brought the rest of the gifts,
and laid them in the middle of the assembly.
  Agamemnon then rose, and Talthybius whose voice was like that of a
god came to him with the boar. The son of Atreus drew the knife
which he wore by the scabbard of his mighty sword, and began by
cutting off some bristles from the boar, lifting up his hands in
prayer as he did so. The other Achaeans sat where they were all silent
and orderly to hear the king, and Agamemnon looked into the vault of
heaven and prayed saying, “I call Jove the first and mightiest of
all gods to witness, I call also Earth and Sun and the Erinyes who
dwell below and take vengeance on him who shall swear falsely, that
I have laid no hand upon the girl Briseis, neither to take her to my
bed nor otherwise, but that she has remained in my tents inviolate. If
I swear falsely may heaven visit me with all the penalties which it
metes out to those who perjure themselves.”
  He cut the boar’s throat as he spoke, whereon Talthybius whirled
it round his head, and flung it into the wide sea to feed the
fishes. Then Achilles also rose and said to the Argives, “Father Jove,
of a truth you blind men’s eyes and bane them. The son of Atreus had
not else stirred me to so fierce an anger, nor so stubbornly taken
Briseis from me against my will. Surely Jove must have counselled
the destruction of many an Argive. Go, now, and take your food that we
may begin fighting.”
  On this he broke up the assembly, and every man went back to his own
ship. The Myrmidons attended to the presents and took them away to the
ship of Achilles. They placed them in his tents, while the
stable-men drove the horses in among the others.
  Briseis, fair as Venus, when she saw the mangled body of
Patroclus, flung herself upon it and cried aloud, tearing her
breast, her neck, and her lovely face with both her hands. Beautiful
as a goddess she wept and said, “Patroclus, dearest friend, when I
went hence I left you living; I return, O prince, to find you dead;
thus do fresh sorrows multiply upon me one after the other. I saw
him to whom my father and mother married me, cut down before our city,
and my three own dear brothers perished with him on the self-same day;
but you, Patroclus, even when Achilles slew my husband and sacked
the city of noble Mynes, told me that I was not to weep, for you
said you would make Achilles marry me, and take me back with him to
Phthia, we should have a wedding feast among the Myrmidons. You were
always kind to me and I shall never cease to grieve for you.”
  She wept as she spoke, and the women joined in her lament-making
as though their tears were for Patroclus, but in truth each was
weeping for her own sorrows. The elders of the Achaeans gathered round
Achilles and prayed him to take food, but he groaned and would not
do so. “I pray you,” said he, “if any comrade will hear me, bid me
neither eat nor drink, for I am in great heaviness, and will stay
fasting even to the going down of the sun.”
  On this he sent the other princes away, save only the two sons of
Atreus and Ulysses, Nestor, Idomeneus, and the knight Phoenix, who
stayed behind and tried to comfort him in the bitterness of his
sorrow: but he would not be comforted till he should have flung
himself into the jaws of battle, and he fetched sigh on sigh, thinking
ever of Patroclus. Then he said-
  “Hapless and dearest comrade, you it was who would get a good dinner
ready for me at once and without delay when the Achaeans were
hasting to fight the Trojans; now, therefore, though I have meat and
drink in my tents, yet will I fast for sorrow. Grief greater than this
I could not know, not even though I were to hear of the death of my
father, who is now in Phthia weeping for the loss of me his son, who
am here fighting the Trojans in a strange land for the accursed sake
of Helen, nor yet though I should hear that my son is no more—he
who is being brought up in Scyros—if indeed Neoptolemus is still
living. Till now I made sure that I alone was to fall here at Troy
away from Argos, while you were to return to Phthia, bring back my son
with you in your own ship, and show him all my property, my
bondsmen, and the greatness of my house—for Peleus must surely be
either dead, or
Then, when we had got down to the sea shore we drew our ship into
the water and got her mast and sails into her; we also put the sheep
on board and took our places, weeping and in great distress of mind.
Circe, that great and cunning goddess, sent us a fair wind that blew
dead aft and stayed steadily with us keeping our sails all the time
well filled; so we did whatever wanted doing to the ship’s gear and
let her go as the wind and helmsman headed her. All day long her sails
were full as she held her course over the sea, but when the sun went
down and darkness was over all the earth, we got into the deep
waters of the river Oceanus, where lie the land and city of the
Cimmerians who live enshrouded in mist and darkness which the rays
of the sun never pierce neither at his rising nor as he goes down
again out of the heavens, but the poor wretches live in one long
melancholy night. When we got there we beached the ship, took the
sheep out of her, and went along by the waters of Oceanus till we came
to the place of which Circe had told us.
  “Here Perimedes and Eurylochus held the victims, while I drew my
sword and dug the trench a cubit each way. I made a drink-offering
to all the dead, first with honey and milk, then with wine, and
thirdly with water, and I sprinkled white barley meal over the
whole, praying earnestly to the poor feckless ghosts, and promising
them that when I got back to Ithaca I would sacrifice a barren
heifer for them, the best I had, and would load the pyre with good
things. I also particularly promised that Teiresias should have a
black sheep to himself, the best in all my flocks. When I had prayed
sufficiently to the dead, I cut the throats of the two sheep and let
the blood run into the trench, whereon the ghosts came trooping up
from Erebus—brides, young bachelors, old men worn out with toil,
maids who had been crossed in love, and brave men who had been
killed in battle, with their armour still smirched with blood; they
came from every quarter and flitted round the trench with a strange
kind of screaming sound that made me turn pale with fear. When I saw
them coming I told the men to be quick and flay the carcasses of the
two dead sheep and make burnt offerings of them, and at the same
time to repeat prayers to Hades and to Proserpine; but I sat where I
was with my sword drawn and would not let the poor feckless ghosts
come near the blood till Teiresias should have answered my questions.
  “The first ghost ‘that came was that of my comrade Elpenor, for he
had not yet been laid beneath the earth. We had left his body
unwaked and unburied in Circe’s house, for we had had too much else to
do. I was very sorry for him, and cried when I saw him: ‘Elpenor,’
said I, ‘how did you come down here into this gloom and darkness?
You have here on foot quicker than I have with my ship.’
  “‘Sir,’ he answered with a groan, ‘it was all bad luck, and my own
unspeakable drunkenness. I was lying asleep on the top of Circe’s
house, and never thought of coming down again by the great staircase
but fell right off the roof and broke my neck, so my soul down to
the house of Hades. And now I beseech you by all those whom you have
left behind you, though they are not here, by your wife, by the father
who brought you up when you were a child, and by Telemachus who is the
one hope of your house, do what I shall now ask you. I know that
when you leave this limbo you will again hold your ship for the Aeaean
island. Do not go thence leaving me unwaked and unburied behind you,
or I may bring heaven’s anger upon you; but burn me with whatever
armour I have, build a barrow for me on the sea shore, that may tell
people in days to come what a poor unlucky fellow I was, and plant
over my grave the oar I used to row with when I was yet alive and with
my messmates.’ And I said, ‘My poor fellow, I will do all that you
have asked of me.’
  “Thus, then, did we sit and hold sad talk with one another, I on the
one side of the trench with my sword held over the blood, and the
ghost of my comrade saying all this to me from the other side. Then
came the ghost of my dead mother Anticlea, daughter to Autolycus. I
had left her alive when I set out for Troy and was moved to tears when
I saw her, but even so, for all my sorrow I would not let her come
near the blood till I had asked my questions of Teiresias.
  “Then came also the ghost of Theban Teiresias, with his golden
sceptre in his hand. He knew me and said, ‘Ulysses, noble son of
Laertes, why, poor man, have you left the light of day and come down
to visit the dead in this sad place? Stand back from the trench and
withdraw your sword that I may drink of the blood and answer your
questions truly.’
  “So I drew back, and sheathed my sword, whereon when he had drank of
the blood he began with his prophecy.
  “You want to know,’ said he, ‘about your return home, but heaven
will make this hard for you. I do not think that you will escape the
eye of Neptune, who still nurses his bitter grudge against you for
having blinded his son. Still, after much suffering you may get home
if you can restrain yourself and your companions when your ship
reaches the Thrinacian island, where you will find the sheep and
cattle belonging to the sun, who sees and gives ear to everything.
If you leave these flocks unharmed and think of nothing but of getting
home, you may yet after much hardship reach Ithaca; but if you harm
them, then I forewarn you of the destruction both of your ship and
of your men. Even though you may yourself escape, you will return in
bad plight after losing all your men, [in another man’s ship, and
you will find trouble in your house, which will be overrun by
high-handed people, who are devouring your substance under the pretext
of paying court and making presents to your wife.
  “‘When you get home you will take your revenge on these suitors; and
after you have killed them by force or fraud in your own house, you
must take a well-made oar and carry it on and on, till you come to a
country where the people have never heard of the sea and do not even
mix salt with their food, nor do they know anything about ships, and
oars that are as the wings of a ship. I will give you this certain
token which cannot escape your notice. A wayfarer will meet you and
will say it must be a winnowing shovel that you have got upon your
shoulder; on this you must fix the oar in the ground and sacrifice a
ram, a bull, and a boar to Neptune. Then go home and offer hecatombs
to an the gods in heaven one after the other. As for yourself, death
shall come to you from the sea, and your life shall ebb away very
gently when you are full of years and peace of mind, and your people
shall bless you. All that I have said will come true].’
  “‘This,’ I answered, ‘must be as it may please heaven, but tell me
and tell me and tell me true, I see my poor mother’s ghost close by
us; she is sitting by the blood without saying a word, and though I am
her own son she does not remember me and speak to me; tell me, Sir,
how I can make her know me.’
  “‘That,’ said he, ‘I can soon do Any ghost that you let taste of the
blood will talk with you like a reasonable being, but if you do not
let them have any blood they will go away again.’
  “On this the ghost of Teiresias went back to the house of Hades, for
his prophecyings had now been spoken, but I sat still where I was
until my mother came up and tasted the blood. Then she knew me at once
and spoke fondly to me, saying, ‘My son, how did you come down to this
abode of darkness while you are still alive? It is a hard thing for
the living to see these places, for between us and them there are
great and terrible waters, and there is Oceanus, which no man can
cross on foot, but he must have a good ship to take him. Are you all
this time trying to find your way home from Troy, and have you never
yet got back to Ithaca nor seen your wife in your own house?’
  “‘Mother,’ said I, ‘I was forced to come here to consult the ghost
of the Theban prophet Teiresias. I have never yet been near the
Achaean land nor set foot on my native country, and I have had nothing
but one long series of misfortunes from the very first day that I
set out with Agamemnon for Ilius, the land of noble steeds, to fight
the Trojans. But tell me, and tell me true, in what way did you die?
Did you have a long illness, or did heaven vouchsafe you a gentle easy
passage to eternity? Tell me also about my father, and the son whom
I left behind me; is my property still in their hands, or has some one
else got hold of it, who thinks that I shall not return to claim it?
Tell me again what my wife intends doing, and in what mind she is;
does she live with my son and guard my estate securely, or has she
made the best match she could and married again?’
  “My mother answered, ‘Your wife still remains in your house, but she
is in great distress of mind and spends her whole time in tears both
night and day. No one as yet has got possession of your fine property,
and Telemachus still holds your lands undisturbed. He has to entertain
largely, as of course he must, considering his position as a
magistrate, and how every one invites him; your father remains at
his old place in the country and never goes near the town. He has no
comfortable bed nor bedding; in the winter he sleeps on the floor in
front of the fire with the men and goes about all in rags, but in
summer, when the warm weather comes on again, he lies out in the
vineyard on a bed of vine leaves thrown anyhow upon the ground. He
grieves continually about your never having come home, and suffers
more and more as he grows older. As for my own end it was in this
wise: heaven did not take me swiftly and painlessly in my own house,
nor was I attacked by any illness such as those that generally wear
people out and **** them, but my longing to know what you were doing
and the force of my affection for you—this it was that was the
death of me.’
  “Then I tried to find some way of embracing my mother’s ghost.
Thrice I sprang towards her and tried to clasp her in my arms, but
each time she flitted from my embrace as it were a dream or phantom,
and being touched to the quick I said to her, ‘Mother, why do you
not stay still when I would embrace you? If we could throw our arms
around one another we might find sad comfort in the sharing of our
sorrows even in the house of Hades; does Proserpine want to lay a
still further load of grief upon me by mocking me with a phantom
only?’
  “‘My son,’ she answered, ‘most ill-fated of all mankind, it is not
Proserpine that is beguiling you, but all people are like this when
they are dead. The sinews no longer hold the flesh and bones together;
these perish in the fierceness of consuming fire as soon as life has
left the body, and the soul flits away as though it were a dream. Now,
however, go back to the light of day as soon as you can, and note
all these things that you may tell them to your wife hereafter.’
  “Thus did we converse, and anon Proserpine sent up the ghosts of the
wives and daughters of all the most famous men. They gathered in
crowds about the blood, and I considered how I might question them
severally. In the end I deemed that it would be best to draw the
keen blade that hung by my sturdy thigh, and keep them from all
drinking the blood at once. So they came up one after the other, and
each one as I questioned her told me her race and lineage.
  “The first I saw was Tyro. She was daughter of Salmoneus and wife of
Cretheus the son of ******. She fell in love with the river Enipeus
who is much the most beautiful river in the whole world. Once when she
was taking a walk by his side as usual, Neptune, disguised as her
lover, lay with her at the mouth of the river, and a huge blue wave
arched itself like a mountain over them to hide both woman and god,
whereon he loosed her ****** girdle and laid her in a deep slumber.
When the god had accomplished the deed of love, he took her hand in
his own and said, ‘Tyro, rejoice in all good will; the embraces of the
gods are not fruitless, and you will have fine twins about this time
twelve months. Take great care of them. I am Neptune, so now go
home, but hold your tongue and do not tell any one.’
  “Then he dived under the sea, and she in due course bore Pelias
and Neleus, who both of them served Jove with all their might.
Pelias was a great ******* of sheep and lived in Iolcus, but the other
lived in Pylos. The rest of her children were by Cretheus, namely,
Aeson, Pheres, and Amythaon, who was a mighty warrior and charioteer.
  “Next to her I saw Antiope, daughter to Asopus, who could boast of
having slept in the arms of even Jove himself, and who bore him two
sons Amphion and Zethus. These founded Thebes with its seven gates,
and built a wall all round it; for strong though they were they
could not hold Thebes till they had walled it.
  “Then I saw Alcmena, the wife of Amphitryon, who also bore to Jove
indomitable Hercules; and Megara who was daughter to great King Creon,
and married the redoubtable son of Amphitryon.
  “I also saw fair Epicaste mother of king OEdipodes whose awful lot
it was to marry her own son without suspecting it. He married her
after having killed his father, but the gods proclaimed the whole
story to the world; whereon he remained king of Thebes, in great grief
for the spite the gods had borne him; but Epicaste went to the house
of the mighty jailor Hades, having hanged herself for grief, and the
avenging spirits haunted him as for an outraged mother—to his ruing
bitterly thereafter.
  “Then I saw Chloris, whom Neleus married for her beauty, having
given priceless presents for her. She was youngest daughter to Amphion
son of Iasus and king of Minyan Orchomenus, and was Queen in Pylos.
She bore Nestor, Chromius, and Periclymenus, and she also bore that
marvellously lovely woman Pero, who was wooed by all the country
round; but Neleus would only give her to him who should raid the
cattle of Iphicles from the grazing grounds of Phylace, and this was a
hard task. The only man who would undertake to raid them was a certain
excellent seer, but the will of heaven was against him, for the
rangers of the cattle caught him and put him in prison; nevertheless
when a full year had passed and the same season came round again,
Iphicles set him at liberty, after he had expounded all the oracles of
heaven. Thus, then, was the will of Jove accomplished.
  “And I saw Leda the wife of Tyndarus, who bore him two famous
sons, Castor breaker of horses, and Pollux the mighty boxer. Both
these heroes are lying under the earth, though they are still alive,
for by a special dispensation of Jove, they die and come to life
again, each one of them every other day throughout all time, and
they have the rank of gods.
  “After her I saw Iphimedeia wife of Aloeus who boasted the embrace
of Neptune. She bore two sons Otus and Ephialtes, but both were
short lived. They were the finest children that were ever born in this
world, and the best looking, Orion only excepted; for at nine years
old they were nine fathoms high, and measured nine cubits round the
chest. They threatened to make war with the gods in Olympus, and tried
to set Mount Ossa on the top of Mount Olympus, and Mount Pelion on the
top of Ossa, that they might scale heaven itself, and they would
have done it too if they had been grown up, but Apollo, son of Leto,
killed both of them, before they had got so much as a sign of hair
upon their cheeks or chin.
  “Then I saw Phaedra, and Procris, and fair Ariadne daughter of the
magician Minos, whom Theseus was carrying off from Crete to Athens,
but he did not enjoy her, for before he could do so Diana killed her
in the island of Dia on account of what Bacchus had said against her.
  “I also saw Maera and Clymene and hateful Eriphyle, who sold her own
husband for gold. But it would take me all night if I were to name
every single one of the wives and daughters of heroes whom I saw,
and it is time for me to go to bed, either on board ship with my crew,
or here. As for my escort, heaven and yourselves
Havran Jun 2015
Breathe.
Breathe deep,
and in between
those breaths
bring back
banished beliefs
buried beneath
beyond
broken bonds
and
burnt bliss.

Embers.
Embers everywhere
of emotions
expecting
Elysium’s
elusive embrace.

Roses.
Roses scattering
restlessly;
rarely receiving
reprieve;
reminiscing;
ruing
reproachful ravens
resting
rigidly;
rabidly reaping,
rending
rotten remains,
resenting rainfall
refusing remorse.

Nostalgia.
Nostalgia underneath
neon nightlights;
noticing
nubs,
noises,
nuances;
neither neglecting
nameless
nonbelievers,
nor nurturing
narrow-sighted
naiveté.

Asleep.
Asleep amidst
fleeting azaleas
acknowledging
an abandon
amplifying
already
almighty
affection;
almost
altering
an­cient,
ardent,
adamant
air
as an
ageless art.

Loss.
Loss overpowering;
lost love,
lingering longing,
lasting laments.
Lachrymose lovers
left layers
of a
limited life
within
long-forgotten lore;
lest labeled
Loveless;
left
little
longer
living.

Yearning.
Yearning for
the warmth
of home.
Yesterday,
You
were
yelling
‘YES’
at the top
of your lungs,
and
it
was
enough.
Yet
Yggdrasil
yielded
yew
for years
and years;
young,
yellow yeggs
yanked asunder
Yin
from Yang
into the
ever yonder.

Night-time.
Night-time symphonies
nullify
nothingness;
nourishing
Nyx Nightmother’s
need
of newfound
night-thinkers;
napping
nonchalantly
now,
near,
and nevermore.

~
**D.C.
Ackerrman Aug 2019
Red
Red. Blue. Green balloons skip from hand to air.
Their buoyance pulling taught on string without a care
For cutting of birthday cake or pink frosty icing melting
In the sun, party plates pass from Nanna to Papa.
The sleek magic man pulls another trick, waves his hands and ‘ta-da’.

The birthday boy sits unblinking,
Whilst those around make merry clinking,
Stupor with drinking.
Unmoved in his party of one.

Pink candy, fluffy pillows, sugar spun round like may pole in June
Sun, gliding through shrouds of baby blue glue on the day when somebody loved you,
The faded scent of burning popcorn scars memory.
Faint, old, warm voices rise in chorus of lukewarm water, embrace the scene
As children in play, chase white rabbits through hedges all summer day.

The birthday boy sits with guard folded,
and his mind is moulded,
his memory of play is shrouded,
thoughts making merry grounded,
unmoved in his party of one.

Sweet, suckling, pig aroma, dancing through the air and making merry
all the guests, with hustle and bustle, meeting and greeting with every
burst of laughter, rising and drowning in the air like Ariel,
Enchantress of Garden chairs, thin napkins caped in Tomato,
Children bounce around on castles, kings clinging to memories of tomorrow

The birthday boy sits far away,
Where his thoughts are free to flay,
All memory of that savage day,
Where innocence and virtue lay,
Unmoved in his party of one,

Ice cream Sundaes glitter as diamonds, yawning and smiling
As cream floats down the exquisite vase in timing
To lecherous looks promising requiem to appetite,
A chorus of laughter fills the air with, pop- another bottle,
Warm embrace of familiar friends, we smile soft as a bubble…

The birthday boy,
with stern and solemn stare,
Dares not cut the air,
Or insist on what is fair,
But sits to fester in the sun’s cold glare,
Looking like he does not care,
Unmoved in his party of one.

Sun flakes leaping over my neighbour’s
Stubbly white palace, beams trickle round its walls in party favours,
Death lightning blinding, level-climbing, stupor rising, smiling clowns,
Gracefully rummage through pockets for silver-shining keys,
Embraces kind faces with kinder eyes and another cherished memory leaves.

The birthday boy sat silent as the grave,
His parents want him to behave,
No boy like fancies left to save,
Stooped low in his plastic cave,
Ruing the knife that thought him brave.
Unmoved in his party of one.
One day a character from a book i am writing decided she wanted write a poem about her little brother.
Dieorfree Dec 2012
Read my lips
feel my word's
know that I care and life will never be fair
my massage is so simple
loving you was dream
was like chilled playing in the rain
like blood ruing in vain
but not all we dream we can gain so again
read my lips
feel my word's
when I say goodbye , when I love to cry
don't you wonder why
maybe that my Sacrificere
read my lip's
and feel my word's
This morn lazing in the winter sun
He said for us living is no fun
On the weather beaten roof
His voice was ominously aloof!

Here I’m your unwelcome guest
A nuisance to you your garden’s pest
But one if not for the irony of fate
Would be today your equal primate!


He spoke uneasy on the rough concrete
My home is gone I have no retreat
God there played out to a devilish plan
Lifting one up from the other of his clan!


He paused mournful in contemplative lull
If only I could have been your equal
Would not have come begging on your door
Held captive in cage suffer agonies galore!


He curled his lips showing yellowed tooth
If I’m frank and tell you a bare truth
Right now I feel like slapping your face
To remind it’s for you I made no progress!


Past his bushy brows I saw mirrored in his eyes
A reflection of me clothed in human guise
The one looking at other both ruing their fate
For being down the rung being the superior primate!
Robert C Howard Jul 2013
The bittersweet harmonies of
Barber’s song of ruing
carry me back two score years
to that day I sat intent on the bench -
Barber’s accompaniment on the stand.

Ben Walker exploded into the room
“Have you heard about the president? ”
My blankness answered,
“Kennedy's been shot! ”
My stiffened fingers lifted from the keys.
Dread-filled I stammered,
“Will he be all right? ”
Unable to utter the words,
Ben shook his head.

Scenes flicker on our mindscreens
like scratched newsreels -
tears staining Bernstein’s face,
Eroica and Resurrection
weeping our televised agony,
Oswald doubled over Ruby’s bullets,
a toddler's unbearable salute.

Watching motorcade frames
repeat in slow motion,
we careen on rubber legs:
a nation’s heart shattered in Dallas.

The somber song plays on:
Housemans’s words
Joined with Barber’s melodies:

'With Rue my Heart is Laden.'

*April, 2007
I was practicing the piano part of a song by Samuel Barber set to a poem by A.E Houseman (With Rue my Heart is Laden). I was preparing to accompany Ben Walker, a baritone friend who was to sing it an upcoming recital when he burst in and gave me the horrific news.
Without ruing all the lost chance
should I tell her once
or now it's really too late
to say what's unsaid from the first date.

Stopping long at the tongue's tip
they're gone into me hiding deep
breathing in heart as one quiet peace
speaking their voice in the bud of a kiss.

But hasn't died their wish to be told
love's alphabets carved in gold
uttered in silence at the sight of her
till today unsaid till now deferred.

Do they need to be told anymore
what's embedded within fondly secured
or is it so from her first date
she's dying to hear those alphabets!
Birch Swinger Aug 2016
So difficult to enjoy the pleasures of night
To truly indulge in my midnight vices
When perpetually ruing the rise of the sun
Actively rooting against its arrival
Secretly wishing science betrays me
And the sun never awakens
Oh, if only it could be dark forever
And the governing laws of the universe
Made this one exception for me
So that my emotions could openly flourish
Without ever being judged by harsh stares
If I had one wish, it would be for darkness
Total and utter darkness
So that I could be lost forever
What a beautiful thought indeed
Big Virge Sep 2021
Now This Is A Question...
That’s One Worth Addressing...

When It Comes To Their Movements...
How Many Can Say That They...
Know What They’re Doing... ?!?

Cos’ These Days Its Quite Clear...
That Movements Need Improving... !!!

From Things Some Are Choosing...
That Deal In... Delusions...

And Things Quite Confusing...
When They Deal In Looseness... ?1?

Or Choices That Lead...
To DEFYING What NATURE...
Has Set As The Flavour...
Defining Their Being... ?!?

You Know What I’m Meaning...
Some Mind States Need Cleaning...
Because of Their Leanings...
And Modern Day Teachings... ?!?

It's Clear Some Are Seeking...
To... DEFINE THEMSELVES... !!!

As If Natures Dealings...
Have Not Served Them Well... ?!?

But Will They Be RUING...
The Things That They’re Doing... ?!?

When Wisdom Prevails...
And Starts To Derail...

Their Thinking And Actions...
Like Keeping Folks Captive...
For Slave Masters Lashings...
And Linking With Factions...
Whose Movements Bred Sadness...
And All Sorts of BADNESS...
Like Separatist Clashes... !!!

That Now Lead To Bleeding...
In Protests We’re Seeing... !!!

It Seems That Confusion’s...
Now Causing Contusions...
As Well As Pollution...
of Things Some Are Doing...

It’s CRAZY To See...
The Things People Feel...
That They Currently Need... !?!

That’s Right Like VACCINES...
To Fight Off Disease...
Like This... COVID-19... !?!

Twenty AND......
Twenty One....... !!!!!

Cos It’s Clearly NOT DONE... !!!

So Have New Policies...
Really Proven To Be...
What Will Now Bring Defeat...
To This Viral Infection... ???

That’s Made Us Start Testing...
And Taking Injections...

Because...
What Heads Are Stressing...
Has Created TENSIONS... !!!

And Fuelled MANY Questions...
From All Kinds of Sectors... !!!

Except For Those Still Making...
... LOTS of MONEY... !!!

Like... Vaccine Companies...
And These Big Pharma Teams... !!!

Which Seems Funny To Me... ?!?

So What Are They Doing...
Inside of Their Labs... ?!?

Are They Showing Prudence...
Or Is This A... PLAN... ???

To Now Trace And Track...
Almost EVERY Human... !?!

Or To DEPOPULATE...
The Earth To Make Space...
For A Depleted Race... ?!?

Cos’ Whatever Their Doing...
Has Fuelled Protest Movements
... ALL OVER THE WORLD... !!!
That Have Caused QUITE A STIR...

But What About THEM... ?!?
Are They Really What’s Best...
To Suppress Governments...
And Agendas They Set... ?!?

What They’re Doing On HILLS...
Seems To Feed BITTER Pills... !!!!

But Have They EFFECTED...
A Change That’s CORRECTED...
What Has Been Selected...

To Be The BEST Way...
To Escape Viral Strains...
That World Governments Claim...
Have Been Quick To Mutate...
And Infect Us Again... !!!

AGAIN And AGAIN... !!!

So What Are People Doing...
When They VACCINATE... ???

Oh Of Course They’re Protecting...
Themselves From A Heading...

Where They End Up Bedded...
And Hospitalised...
Like People Who’ve Died...
Because They Rejected...
World Leaders Guidelines... !!!

That Just Don’t Seem Right... ?!?

I Guess Modern Life...
Has Caused Some To Find...
A NEW Way of Thinking...

That’s Changed How They’re Living...

But Will They Be RUING...
The Things They’re Now Choosing... ?!?

From What We INJECT...
To RELIANCE On Tech...
And The Changing of ***...
To Attempt To Ease Stress...

What On Earth’s Coming Next... ?!?

Will We Keep On POLLUTING...
Our Minds With Confusion... ?!?

That Leads To Delusions...

And Questions Like This...

Do Folks Know...

... “ What They’re Doing ? “...
A very interesting subject, and question, for these days and times.....
I find myself speaking with God
In the company of my solitude;
As though he is present in the long walks
along paths lined with trees
Where the only noises are those of leaves of trees
rustled by the wind
And the only voices are those of birds
Who lend their beaks to the wind
As though I was another Adam
Searching for God’s footstep
As I walk over the garden
Muttering the litanies of my sins and imperfections
Ruing all that I have done which I should not have
And all I didn’t do which I should have done
Wondering what became of the little boy I once was
And how I seem like a sea
Where fragments of a sank ship floats
And the remnant of his innocence is scattered about
Like  flotsam, impossible to reassemble

I let God listen to the pains in my voice
Of being a failed sailor
Drowning the sojourners who gave me trust
Yet my second journey remains uncertain
And not-in-tandem with the wind

There is no healing for me in the world
I already added iodine to her wounds
In her pains, she screams at my conscience
And I recoil into my solitude on this solitary path
And I find myself speaking to God in my heart,
Where I find him
Sam Miller Jan 2018
Frequencies frequently screeching in my ear
Causing me to miss things i should obviously hear
Ill never learn my leason if the worlds blocked about by this noise
But i can't stop it from playing it just over poise

Frequencies frequently create to
much sound
Causing me to freak out and fall to the ground
Panic out all the adreniline
Or you can take this pill and make it all calm down

Freequency frequentky ruing my life stab in the heart like a knife
anilkumar parat Feb 2023
Friends! Remember my camel,
that loafer with a permanent grin?
he's been a-chewing a-ruing, ruminating,
upon the yonder and beyond a-pondering

His reins hang loose, his saddle's dusty
his bit is chewn his blanket's musty
his coat's crusted with the scars of Time
he's forlorn for no real reason or rhyme
he's footloose as ever, he just has to wander
in search of all the oases of the yonder

You should see his gait as he kicks up the clods
when he plods, he plods and plods and plods
and when he saunters, it's quite a canter
he and I, we argue, disagree and banter
I think I'm his master but he thinks otherwise
I wish i could rein him in but i know it's unwise
and so i let him have his wayward ways,
together we tread this crazy maze.


(Just last week I tightened his saddle
and he took me to a land
all-green-and-no-sand
where it rained and sploshed
and we both got sloshed...
when the clouds parted and clear was the sky
he was much younger and so was I
he sprang in the air like a kid newborn
there was spring in the air, I too was airborne
the grass was washed, so was the moss
gone from his hair was all the dross
he stopped grunting, he sang instead,
full of Malayalam thoughts in his head
we went to gaze at elephants
(loved their finery but not their chained legs)
we heard drums in their elements
well into the nights we pranced
in ******* raptures we tranced
and woke up  lazy by mid-afternoons
with heads so hazy and postpartum blues)

He and I, we've had many a fight
o'er who's the one wrong and who's right
he's been calling every oasis a mirage
I say none of them's a camouflage
he's adamant that it's all an illusion
that I'm tripping and under a delusion
I say I hear him bleat like a goat,
I touch his rain-washed mangy coat
I see him, like a ship, heave and sway
I smell him from quite a mile away
yet I ask myself if all this is not Maya,
if even mirages weren't of realms higher.
Arduous agonizing affliction
doth unrelentingly assail...
aghast to exhale lest...lose
desperate clinging clutch
held by bloodied cracked fingernail
phantasmagoric tendrils constrict

stoppering me to whisper or wail
yawning abyss menacingly beseeches
hmm...release could immediately curtail
cumulative (lifetime's worth) travail
freefalling, pirouetting unnervingly,
unstoppably, unwaveringly... zipping

into infinite black hell hole ail
mince vanish as doth guilt - a hail
storm peppering psyche... jail
time for eternity excluded option
asper garden variety baby boomer male,
albeit the father of deux darling daughters,

the eldest (broke vow of silent communication),
she reached out after months long hiatus telltale
indications to accept genuine apology
her papa (me) rages against hurtfulness, he
affixed indelible psychological scars each travail
boomeranged backed to yours truly duress

during her impressionable years, she did rail
and rant previous conversation, the scale
innocent intelligent progeny, we begat
(myself and misses) financially ill prepared
to provide respectable accommodations

"dirt poor" status detrimental
with affluent MainLine
incomes luxe Lower Merion
living costs fateful design
neighbors cursed, ostracized, vilified...
unsightly unkempt property (i.e. unmanicured)

intolerant snobs didst malign
child welfare services called NOT to dine
but emphatic for papa and mama to align
dwelling safe and secure for minors
yes, I attest despicable living conditions
crowded house with Zison heirlooms

owners - malignant hoarders did confine
considerably reducing cubic feet,
they relations of spouse evicted us
ready to point carbine
at temple...quicker than noose
dead of winter 2010 near homelessness

relocated within "roach motel" decline
among our dynamics with offspring
livid with rage, asper an inferno no divine
comedy compounded by lascivious
behaviour - mine to hasten dateline
enduring helplessness, hardship

being alive plus brandishing knife
against self witnessed...I assign
poor marks as paternal parent,
who bemoans loathsome
impact...this papa gropes toward hotline!
WA West Nov 2019
His marriage imploded; smoke and insinuations. It was a shock that he always knew was coming. His conscience sent him North; a man and his bags. He was 38 and had gained weight. A once handsome face melting away into middle-aged near-obesity. Ruing over what he was not proud of, every human interaction was endlessly scrutinised. He felt that he had a true essence that he had not yet uncovered. If he could discover it then he would build a new story around it, one that would get his life back on track. His meals were no hopers; microwaved, industrial and sodium filled. His meals and his days did not nourish him. Feeling lonely, he had started to go to the pub. Although he stuck out, he found the locals rough but friendly enough. They, the 3 lads, were going to come around for a smoke. A little bit of companionship might stop the walls from eating him up. They were all in their mid-twenties, he'd guess, so younger than him but not oddly so. He flipped between politics today and sky sports news; chain smoking like it was a vital function. He drank a can of san pelligrino blood orange, slowly, his mouth overwhelmed by the sugary taste. He sighed from the tip of his toes to the crown of his head. Within an hour, like his marriage he would no longer exist.
The following poetic account
written more'n a dozen ***** dancing decades ago,
while I (a socially withdrawn **** Sapiens)
groveled along (on a secret Msn)
along boulevard of broken dreams,
whereby yours truly forced to eat crow
quite challenging cuz
wonky twittering angry birds
alive and well darting hither and yon to and fro
able, eager, ready, and willing
to gouge out the eyes of one common Joe.

Arduous agonizing affliction
didst unrelentingly assault and assail...
aghast to exhale... lest I would lose
desperate clinging clutch
held by more'n one
but less than eleven  
bloodied cracked fingernail
phantasmagoric phalange like tendrils constricted
stoppering me to whisper or wail
against being swallowed into hello poetry tumblr

(think Alice in wonderland
falling into rabbit hole)
yawning abyss menacingly beseeched
hmm...release could immediately curtail
cumulative (lifetime's worth) travail
freefalling, pirouetting unnervingly,
unstoppably, unwaveringly... zipping
into infinite black hole sun hell
buzzfeeding me where linkedin
earthlinked suffering lovely bones would ail

making minced meat out of me
“****” vanish as guilt – courtesy didst hail
analogous storm trooper peppering
Pennsylvanian's psyche... with eternal jail
time for eternity excluded option
asper garden variety baby boomer male,
albeit the father of deux darling daughters,
the eldest (broke vow of silent communication),
she reached out after months long hiatus telltale
sign indications to accept genuine apology

her biological father (me) culpability
regarding destitution raged against hurtfulness,
he affixed indelible psychological scars each travail
boomeranged back to yours truly duress
during her impressionable years, she did rail
and rant similar to countless
previous conversations, the scale
innocent intelligent progeny, we begat
(myself and misses) financially ill prepared
to provide respectable accommodations.

Our "dirt poor" status detrimental
livingsocial among affluent MainLine
incomes luxe Lower Merion
living costs fateful design
neighbors cursed, ostracized, vilified...
unsightly unkempt property (i.e. unmanicured)
intolerant snobs didst malign
child welfare services called NOT to dine,
but emphatic for papa and mama to align
dwelling safe and secure for minors

yes, I attest despicable living conditions
crowded house with Zison heirlooms
owners - malignant hoarders did confine
considerably reducing cubic feet,
they relations of spouse evicted us
ready to point carbine
at temple...quicker than noose
dead of winter 2010 near homelessness
relocated within "roach motel" decline
'twixt omnipotent bond

among our dynamics with offspring
livid with rage, asper an inferno no divine
comedy compounded by lascivious
behaviour - mine to hasten dateline
enduring helplessness, hardship
being alive plus brandished carving knife
against self witnessed...I assign
poor marks as paternal parent,
who bemoans loathsome
impact...this papa gropes toward hotline!
Ronald Jones Nov 2016
she left and never said goodbye
it made me want to cry
as i rode my horse into the sunsets
ruing the day she and i ever met
once she had pledged true love
cooed just like a turtle dove
oh i fell real hard
penned more lines than that shakespeare bard
even slipped her a ring
to prove this was no fling
watched it dazzle her eyes
heard all those lovey-dovey sighs
what a farce! she never said goodbye
it made me want to cry
until that day i saw her struttin  with another guy
and thought there but for the grace of God go i!
Big Virge Aug 2020
I Believe In... " Karma "...
And Wear NO ARMOUR... !!!

So REALLY Don't Want...
To... SEE NO DRAMA... !!!!!

I'm NO... " Osama "...
BUSH Whacker Or Blair... !!!!!

Karma's Bound To TOUCH Men...
Who DEAL In BLOODSHED... !!!
By... Sending Humans...
To AVENGE Terror Trends... !?!

Through... Acts of WAR...
That ACCELERATE DEATHS... !!!!!

What Goes AROUND...
Comes Back To HOUND... !!!

ESPECIALLY When...
THE TRUTH Is Found... !!!
And That... BASICALLY...
Is How Karma Gets Down... !!!

LIES You Tell...
MAY... "Cover Up Well"... ?!?

But CLEARLY Can't Save...
Your Soul From HELL... !!!!!!

"Do unto others,
as you'd LIKE done to you !"

Otherwise You'll DISCOVER...
That Starting WAR Feuds...
Is... NOT So Good... !!!
When Manoeuvres You USE...
PROVE You're Being UNTRUE... !!!

So **** On That George... !!!
And YES... TONY Too... !!!!!

You've Both Made Your Choices...
So... DON'T Now Make NOISES...
If Karma... ENJOYS...
Leaving You Both ANNOYED... !!!!!

I'm NOT Wishing You BAD...
But You've Both HAD Your Chance...
And Have Left FAR TOO MANY...
BOTH... ANGRY And MAD... !!!!!!!!!!

Because of... " Agendas "...
And SEPARATIST Plans... !!!!!!

Try Dealing In TRUTH...
Before Karma Moves...
And Gives You A KICK...
Like My Poetic Scripts... !!!

See Karma Can Sway...
In... SO MANY Ways... !!!

And Sometimes Can Bring...
A SMILE To Your Face... !!!

When Moves You Have Made...
Bring Returns That Are GREAT... !!!!!

SO GREAT That This Poem...
Can... BARELY Explain... !!!

Karma Can Bring...
A Great MANY Things... !!!

That Sometimes Make Life...
FEEL... EVER SO Nice... !!!!!

WITHOUT Diamond Rings...
Or The Life of... A KING... !!!

Karma Can Give HIGHS...
That DON'T Have A Price... !!!!!

I'm Thinking of Times...
When You're of A Mind...
To... Perpetrate CRIMES...
Against HUMAN Kind...
Because You've Been HURT...
By Someone... Inclined...
To Leave You PERTURBED... !!!

But You Manage To FIND...
A Way To Just... SMILE...
And Let Karma Design...
How They'll Be CONFINED...
By This Trial We Call LIFE... !!!

It May Take A While...................................
But They'll GET THEIRS...
When The Time Is RIGHT... !!!!!

I'd Rather... PROFILE...
A MORE LOVING Style... !!!

But People These Days...
Are Getting Quite WILD... !!!

Their BELIEF In Karma Has Been Replaced...
By ANGRY Ways And IGNORANT Displays... !!!

Life's Getting MUCH HARDER...
... What More Can I Say... ?

ABUSE of Young Child... !!!
Through Actions SO VILE...
That Karma Appears...
To Have Just........... Disappeared..........

But Folks NEVER Fear... !!!

These SICKO's DO KNOW...
Where They're Going To GO... !!!
So... Hold Your Faith NEAR...
They're Going... BELOW... !!!!!

And That's Where Their PAIN...
Will... NEVER Refrain...
From HITTING Their Brains...
And Their EVERY LAST VEIN...
Over And OVER...
And... Time And AGAIN... !!!!!

It's ALL About... FAITH...
And Actions You Take...
That Will Allow Karma...
To YES... SEAL Your Fate... !!!

And I MEAN ALL OF YOU...
As Well As... ME TOO... !!!!!

So...

"Do unto others,
as you'd LIKE, done to you !"

I've Put That In TWICE...
To Let Your Brain... " Stew "...

Because Nowadays...
Most People Are RUDE...
And Ready To BRUISE... !!!!!!!

So THINK About THAT...
Before You Get... "TRAPPED"...
And Find Yourself RUING...
Something You've Been Doing... !!!

By... " KEEPING Your Cool "...
You're BEATING The FOOLS... !!!

Who NEED To Go BACK...
To Good Old... " Karma School "... !!!

But DON'T Get It Confused... !!!

Sometimes You MUST LOSE...
For... Karma To Move...
And That's Just The TRUTH... !!!

You May NEVER SEE...
The Cards Karma Deals... ?!?

But Should NEVER Doubt...
That Karma's About...
And Deals DUD Cards...
To Those Who DEPART...
From Life's Simple Rules...

of... NOT Being Cruel... !!!
Deceitful Or RUDE... !!!
Or Doing The Things...
That Lead To KILLINGS... !!!

It's ALL About LIVING...
WITHOUT Ever Willing...
EVIL On Those...
Now STUCK IN The Throes...
of... Serving Up LIES...
To FUEL Their Own Lives...

Or Those Now In Zones...
That Lead Them To CRIMES...
AGAINST... Human Kind... !?!?!

That's NOT The Right Road... !!!!!

The Number Selecting...
A Life of Detention's...
BEYOND Comprehension... ?!?!?

NOT In... " Prison Cells "...
But Where... " Devils Dwell "... !!!

Faith LOST In HELL...
They're Just... Human Shells...

Spirits... REMOVED... !!!
And Souls OUT Of Tune... !!!
WITHOUT A... " Sad Song "...
Like... " What's Going On ? "...

We NEED A NEW Marvin... !!!

Because Snakes Are CHARMING...
Their Own Brand of KARMA...
Which Is NOW ALARMING... !!!

TOO Many Are HARMING... !!!
From Civvies To Sergeants... !!!

While Words I'm Now Writing...
Are SOOTHING And CALMING...

CALMING... For ME... !!!
Whether Through Spoken Words...
Or Through My Poetry...

The Karma I'm STEEPED IN...
Is Simply of... " PEACE "... !!!

LESS Violent Sprees... !!!!!
And Killing On Streets... !!!!!

MORE Love For Each OTHER...
And... MORE HARMONY... !!!
Which Will Hopefully Lead...
To... MORE UNITY... ?!?

As I Said BEFORE...
I Am NO Osama'... !!!!!!

But One Thing's For SURE...
I DO Have... " A Cause "...
To Live Out My Life...

Whilst EMBRACING GOOD...

……… " Karma " ………
I believe that it does balance the books... EVENTUALLY !
No sense of accomplishment prevails to date
analogous to kudzu... inadequacy runs rampant
recurring theme extant within poetic endeavors,
and often discussed with assigned therapist (one
among many girls named Stephanie Dodds) do
GOOGLE search and see for yourself – similar

curiosity got the better of me, whose christened
name (Matthew Scott Harris), not unique to yours
truly, a poem, which theme pertaining to aforesaid
first, middle, and last namesake already written by
none other other than this scrivener) impacted self
esteem less so than inchoate nascently, pervasively

rampantly,... thrashing unleashed upon impression
hubble early (perhaps even in utero) formative days
of milne eeyore whinnying pooh wrenching, ruing
jackknifing...unsmiling, lamenting childhood's end
upon cusp debilitating psychological tragedy, where
whatsapp pining within me present mindset lodged

nexus, sans linkedin destructive buzzfeeding apathy
mired potential vitality (crying evinced powerful
lungs) quickly succumbing against brutish, nasty,
yet not short reign of innate oppression, fixation
abnegation with dereliction, asper self preservation
engendering feeble gesticulation harkening incipient

personhood crowdsourcing courtesy condemnation
damning existential insignificance motif possibly
adopted comparing not fancy free and footloose
demeanor toward none other than Boyce Brandon
Harris, thee papa, jack of all trades, (many taught
thru his own quick learning penchant), numberless

abilities + storied vocation - mechanical engineer
equalled one smart polymath strengths constantly
reiterated by mother (dearest long since deceased)
agog how papa excelled at most every endeavor,
i.e. vocational career at General Electric (aerospace
engineer) in conjunction with bajillion avocations,

hence finding his sole son (second of three progeny)
when only yeah high (a scrawny, skinny, spunky...
little boy) internalizing heaping accolades bestowed
strong, not so dark, modestly handsome biological
paternal parent with (rocking) round the clock timely
adulation, which praise papa similarly received soon
after blessed birth April ninth ninety twenty nine.
Big Virge Jul 2021
Some People Have Said...  
That My Poetry Is On The EDGE... !!!

Well I Have To Say...  
That I DON'T Concur... !!!!

My Usage of Words...  
Is... " On The Virge "... !!!  
  
So Here's A Few...  
To Give You Proof...  
That My Words Share Views...  
That Give You Clues...  
  
About Issues...  
In The Daily News...  
  
So Some Are TRUE...  
And Some Are NOT... !!!  
  
It's Down To You...  
To Connect The Dots...  
  
I Connect My Prose...  
And Make It Flow...  
And That's The Way My Poems Go...  
  
Highs And Lows...  
WITHOUT Pound Notes...  
Or ******* Used...  
To FILL My Nose... !!!!!  
  
So Am I... On The Edge... ?
Or On The... Brink... !?!
  
Because My Words...  
Make People... THINK... ?  
  
I'm... ON THE VIRGE... !!!
Do You Get The Link... ???  
  
I Question Things... ?  
That Take... Leanings...  
To Devising NEEDLESS Killings...  
  
Or... "Hiding Truth"...  
From Tomorrows' Youth...  
  
Those Who Choose...  
To Act UNCOUTH... !!!  
BEFORE They LOSE...  
Their Cool And Use...  
  
... " Shady Moves "...  
With ABUSIVE Crews... !!!  
  
MANY of Them...  
Are ON The Edge...
And CLEARLY STRESSED... !!!!!
  
I Write For Those...  
Whose Minds Are Closed...  
  
And Have PROBLEMS...
That... STRESS Their Heads... !!!
  
Those Now STUCK In DUD Systems... !!!
  
That's My Word...  
And It's... On The Virge... !!!
  
But NOT THE WAY...  
Some People Say... !!!
  
My Pen And Page...  
EXPEND My RAGE............ !!!!!  
  
So... On The EDGE...
… I Think NOT Folks... !!!  
  
DON'T Be Misled...
My Words Display...  
A LEVEL Head Until UPSET... !!!!  
  
And Then My Prose...  
Can Be... MOROSE...  
  
But LISTEN CLOSE... !!!  
And Then You'll KNOW...  
I Never Try To Incite Fights... !!!!!  
  
I'm Merely Asking...  
Why Man WHY Do We Comply...  
With Those Perpetrating...  
........ EVIL Crimes....... !?!
  
People SUFFER, Starve And DIE... !!!  
While Money's Spent On SATELLITES... !!?!!  
  
Don't These Doings Upset You...  
And Leave You RUING Things You Do... ?!?  
  
My Questions YES...  
... UNSETTLE A Few... !!!!!
  
In Fact I Think That MANY Conclude...  
  
"That Big Virge dude, should see a shrink !  
He can't be well ! His words won't sell !  
Maybe one day, he'll **** himself !"  
  
Well NOT JUST YET My EDGY Friend...  
I'm CLOSE To The Edge...  
But WATCH My Step... !!!!!  
  
Try Watching YOURS... !!!!!  
And HELP The Cause...  
Before Your Jaws...  
EXPOSE Your Flaws... !!!!!  
  
My Wordplay SOARS...  
And Sometimes ROARS... !!!  
  
I'm Looking For ZION...  
And WON'T STOP Trying...  
While MANY Seem FRIGHTENED... !!!!!!  
  
of Words That I'm Writing...  
And Now.... Reciting....  
  
So Why Is That... ???  
Do Words I Write...  
Make You Feel Trapped... ?!?  
  
Well LISTEN UP Man...  
STAY OFF The Crack... !!!!!  
  
The Deck IS STACKED...  
And I'm The Leader of THIS Pack... !!!!!  
  
I'm Black Like Jack...  
And Use My *****...  
To DIG UP FACTS And Artefacts....  
  
Then Use My Pen...  
To Express Via Page...  
Which Helps Me VENT...  
My Days of Pain... !!!
  
Especially When I Then Display...  
My Rage On Stage In Poetic Ways... !!!  
  
I Never Really Like To Shout...  
Because My Voice...  
Makes QUITE A NOISE... !!!  
  
I'd Rather Show POISE...  
And Use The Ploy...  
of... Dulcet Tones...  
To Get Things Home...  
  
Sometimes That Style...  
STILL RATTLES Bones... ?!?  
  
But Only Those...  
Whose Minds Are VILE... !!!!!  
And Choose To Hide...  
Behind Their LIES...  
  
Don't I Have THE RIGHT...  
To..... CRITICISE..... ?!?  
  
Sometimes I'm WRONG...  
Sometimes I'm RIGHT...  
And Sometimes YES...  
... Am JUSTIFIED... !!!  
  
I Guess I'm Blessed... ?  
To... Speak My Mind...  
  
While Some Suggest...  
I'm On THE EDGE... !!!
  
DON'T Be ABSURD...  
My Use of WORDS...  
Is.... On The Virge...
  
So DON'T Be Scared...  
If You Get... "Snared"...  
By Wordplay YES...  
EARLIER Prepared.... !!!!!  
  
It's Really NOT WAR That I Declare....  
But Simply THIS A... " Savoir Faire "...  
  
That Proves That I'm...  
NOT ON The Edge... !!!  
  
But ON POINT Son...  
My Wordplay Runs Like...  
  
" Dum Diddy' Dum Dum,  
Huh.... Dum Dum..... "  
  
See Sometimes YES...  
I Can Have FUN... !!!  
  
Let Me Take A Guess....  
Right Now You're STUNNED... !?!  
  
Well Now You KNOW...  
Having Read This Prose...  
That BIG VIRGE... IS...  
  
The CHOSEN ONE... !!!
  
Like Anakin' I Am Destined...  
To Walk Within This World of SINS....  
  
Through Use of Scripts...  
And EDGY Words That I Confirm....  
  
Are.....  
  
..... " On The Virge "......
As my name is Virge, I had to have some fun with the term ........
good morning emerald eyes
I know it's been a while
since I've been undone by your soft smile and bewitching ways
all those things I thought I loved
but love is a word I've only just begun to know the meaning of
so what was it then that I felt in the meadows
what is it now that I must reckon that your smile and your form produced in me
maybe only flesh fueled high
a veil I took for love to cover my deception
reflection of own desire
or the burn of blue green lustful fire
  in that dream I sipped some medicine
but I was no more entranced
only sad and somewhat touched at the sight of outstretched hand
yet ached to make you understand
I woke up and repented
ruing ruined purity and wept
for wasted days and silly games
and the piece of me you've kept
Squarely conscientious, I unwittingly
sanction selfhood acutely triangulate
courtesy webbed geometry jeopardize,
galvanize pluck nudging contrived arc,
virtually courting temptation aware,

sans impetuousness compromises an
anonymous commingling, nonetheless
electronic fraternization enthralls mine
plucky chutzpah possibility intrigues
yours truly sporting impish grinning

smile across world wide web unsure
quasi cryptic communication decrypted
maybe imperfectly interpreting message
this enamored disembodied spirit doth
chance circling foursquare kibitizing

downplaying grand illusion spontaneity
gist ripples thru this human entity while
comfortably cushioned buffered against
disappointment accepting outcome - par
for the course amidst cyber spatial gulf

nothing ventured brings disappointment
more often than not, this solitary fellow,
a beetle browed fool on the hill smarting
over...he ne'er gathered rosebuds fruitless
ruing foregone opportunities, hence tho'

cocooned against adverse outcome revel
at fleeting giddiness affixing envisioned
smile upon unknown reader, or perchance
another veritable stranger, cuz amiability
need not be sole providence aimed at one
select web surfer, but extended warm free

greeting permissible allow one imperfect
troubadour to sprinkle pleasantries to any
person, whose scrolling intersects with my
genuine not "FAKE" aery mission to offer
abiding friendship e'en if limited to realm
of harmonized synthesized online reality.
TS Ray Jan 2020
Time forgives no mortal soul,
yet immortality is unattainable goal.

Yesterday, I thought I had it under control,
today, I sulk at the thought of tomorrow,
tomorrow, I will be ruing about yesterday.

If time forgave,
I will never be in the present.

Keep going,
keep me honest,
Time!
TS. 2020.  It's about time!
Anna Sep 2017
I’m haunted by a circadian rhythm

It’s unlike any other; it’s a tainted trip and it cycles in a year

this time last year I woke and read and devoured your words

or was it the other way around

I opened each one as it was window slamming into category five winds

but

after management

hours weeks and days later

One things still irritates me like a scratch on the arch of my foot, as it follows me and I pound it into the ground day by day



You - to me - I’d be a measuring stick.

The best one had (had), cherished, longing soaked streams of logic pulled from heart corners


justifying my anger, ruing sadness, haunted,
I’ll sip it slow, manage;
I have no where to be, and no one is asking.
I knew nary a whit about
rock n roll history
soon to unfold August fifteen –
eighteen ninety sixty nine
mollycoddled, nestled,
obliviously preoccupied

bajillion miles away
attending Baker Park Day Camp
within Phoenixville, Pennsylvania
innocently naive shy lad
hidebound, yours truly
to prefer tried and true familiar turf

quite limited radius
circumscribed physical world,
yes quite sheltered proximity, where
birth family resided
324 Level Road Collegeville
outward bound sphere

comprised safe circumference
nsync within unhealthy insecurity
arising, whereabouts arbitrarily
drawn circle defined mine safe haven
hence, ignorance prevailed
encompassing world at large,

hence bajillion miles distant
Max Yasgur's 601 acre (2.4 km²)
dairy farm in the town
of Bethel, New York,
asper outside realm consciousness
pertaining to yours truly

absolute zero awareness,
where stripling, (and stripped bare) youths,
some approximately twice my age
immersed themselves into
unforgettable experiences of lifetime,
which Woodstock Music, and Art

rock music festival teases
fanciful overactive imagination
speculating buzzfeeding aural
oral, nasal, tactile, visual... senses
ruing, lamenting, bemoaning...

owning cowardly risk averse
demeanor shielding self
against bazaar panoply
augmenting exposure inviting
bizarre phenomena,
versus being tethered

predictably within familiar bubblicious
range umbilical cord (albeit figurative)
linkedin (courtesy known environment)
allowing, enabling, and providing regret
(benefit of 20/20 hindsight)
to tweezer what if...scenario

transcending comfort zone,
which looming fear of unknown
hogtied opportunity to sample novel
adventures (as opposed to reading
such tales of daring do sequestered
as avid bookworm) expending hours

as quiet natured kid (rarely heard or seen),
and reading still predominant passion
providing passive access, now
finding me remonstrating the detriment
against exhibiting proactive modus operandi.
David Hilburn May 2019
Lips we silence...?
Able bodied and ruing a kiss
Soul's with utmost to prove, completion the win...
In the eaves of solitude, many have to offer, is

Recreation of a time
With paces of prowess and the might of a knowing friend
Simple advance, of a courtesy to the norm, are we to find...
A succor in the stir of adding and inclination, a salt to lend?

See the tale of poor eyes, save the grace of decency...
Wishes and portrayal in few, we excite to tell a different
Story than a riddle in the could, we satisfy the host of tranquility?
Places and mayhem, earning the count of worth in seriousness's lament

See the toil of anger's bell...
Knowing a dry tear, if not terror of instincts quarter
Wink or superior blink's, in the toll of voice, to argue lots well...
Sated form's and the still of the night, to fight a copious pride in sense and order...

In the muss and fuss of an ordinary fame, to conceive of a push
For daylight, we have no turn nor fury, with a caring yet
Of powers that begin and end, with ourselves to remind, a watch
Of appearances, that save a worldly addiction, from winds we met...

Aloof and sour to heel, but with a praise for acknowledge
When is more, that suggests the better of you, like a judge?
Come to succinctness, in the hopes and dreams of where we are, rage?
This home of suffice and chastity's vice, is but a new irony hushed...

Promise the skill's of sunshine, and I will seek thee a curiosity
Intimate a role of simplicity for a guarantee, and spoken will be a needy harmony
Same the truth in a passion's first, and the last of silence, will be virtuosity
Know me, a craving in hours and depend, and we will together see, the morrow have a salt, for now and reasons...
jeffrey conyers Jul 2019
Give me your number?
And by doing this you give me permission to robocall you.
But just imagine?
If this was concerning love?
We just pass by it.

Constant calls.
Every time of the day.
Robocalls ruing your day.

Even if it's the one calling just to say I love you.
Hard knocks Methacton school alum
ofttimes finds ruing his fate
while squarely planted on me ***
disheveled and unshaven,
whereby gray stubble encrusted
with wayward synonymous days old crumb -

after wolfing delectable entitled treat
buttered fingers drubbing upon tabletop
analogous to playing a drum
oy vey, yours truly cannot believe
he ate the whole thing -
argh... my poor tum.

ALDI GIANT supermarkets
(within small radius of miles
from me Schwenksville, Penna abode)
sell delicious delectable treat
goading, inspiring, and spurring me
to craft poem essentially
patronizing manufacturer,
whose skilled food technicians
engineered absolute winning dessert

courtesy their natural born talent
schooled (most likely at culinary institute)
possibly supplemented insync
with advanced degrees
at other institutions of higher learning
after various and sundry
trials and error
concocting mouthwatering secret recipe.

Lemme use hypothetical situation
to accent chew ate,
how alluded dessert tastes great,
especially when rumble in tumbly
clamors for glorious goody
regarding appetite to satiate
unfortunately circumstances
force your truly to wait.

If (the following
constitutes far fetched scenario)
stranded on a desert island,
I after falling to Earth
when parachute fails to open,
weighed down by an excess of
Daiya vegan non dairy cheesecakes,
would finagle an empty pie tin
to signal an SOS.

If left to my own devices,
(where you dear reader
would discover one humbug),
I would be forced to scrounge around
rubbing two sticks together
to create warmth
plus distilling oils -
derived from edible herbaceous plants,
whence I would *******
(not prematurely) - olé
to sauté said greens with wild mushrooms.
Michael Marchese Dec 2020
Suppose it’s not really
Intended
My life
In suspended
Not meant to be
Rife with such plight
And by night
I think only
Of dreading awaking
I feel only painstaking
Time slowly wasting
But quick is the day
Dismal in its dismay
And I only see color
In colorless gray
And replaying the same
Angry songs
On repeat
As I work myself
Famished
To earn what I eat
Keeping on
Sleeping on
What I’d rather be doing
With you
But that ship has sailed
Leaving me ruing
The few, but still ruinous
Tragic mistakes
I have made
But won’t make
Anymore
For your sake
Wherever you might be holed up
within this whirled wide web wassup?

Mein kampf still equals board
hardscrabble existence deplored
analogous to Norwegian bachelor,
whose Lake Wobegon nestled within fjord
forcing me to hoard

memories regarding
our long ago short lived relationship
and mine present married life inured
absolutely zero points
within game of life scored.

Approximately three score
minus seven years ago
this then naïve and innocent
early twenty something,
now a middle aged,
diamond in the rough, jaded

two plus decades slavish
married male did not realize
his fair maiden perfect form,
she a capricorn
(who also shared
same January 13th birthday as myself,
though a half dozen
years Mycenae senior
hovered in mine immediate proximity,

a mere hello kitty whisker away,
which accompanying cat’s eye
soft nose smart pet appetite
saw me weight tool ******* up
to revere mother of pearl
opal mate ideal beau
now ex post facto finds
yours truly ruing
foregone soul mate to crow

in vain, though I cannot help pining
and lamenting where art thou – dow
ting she (MaryAnn Sage,
a young whirled, wide
webbed childless divorcee,
a couple of years shy of thirty)
ponders whereabouts
of this contemplative, furtive

and intuitive paramour, whence
swooning swain first experienced anew
an alien emotional lightness of being
within mine hardened carapace did brew
a propensity to surmise, intuit,
and detect a romantic joyful dew
drop similar to lovers in dustbin
of historical annals

dipped ‘ere farewell flew
common as the air we breathe,
this new found muse
sic cull passion grew
yet handled with kid gloves,
which lacked the means
to nurture and hue

a novel interpersonal ecstasy,
which with fits and starts knew
tony yen physics manifested
into a mutual attraction
despite any self-admission new
to this chap, whose skills
sans intimacy infantile

and as a result inadvertently caused grief
to a gal, (who valiantly
christened her vehicle Ruby)
hoping to stride down the pew
which outcome thwarted,
now tis much more

sands of mine lifetime
funneled down the
hourglass shaped queue
without any rhyme nor reason
find this bard **** to rue
how a golden opportunity indiscriminately

lost a flickr and sentiments
now akin to culinary
Michelin patschke stew
rather futile to ruminate
the long lapsed travails
that tripped a true
lee darling dame,

whose take on the matter,
this poet would cherish a view
yet….nary a clue exists if any possibility
to revisit that denouement recalling
the awkward fits and starts before
embers of warm reciprocity kindled
reciprocal an ambition to court,

jest and indubitably woo
to flip and shutterfly
at greased lightning speed
back to that contra dance
at Summit Presbyterian Church
at the crossroads of Green
and Westview Avenue.

— The End —