Jun 2017
Nomad of Hades,
I have seen her emerald carriage...
And the treacherous path she walks on lingers with hyacinths and crocuses.
With every step of her yellowish limbs
She casts another hero to her vestigial garden
And she inhales the golden dust
That grows from the carob trees of lust.
She wears her lies in subterfuge
Even Mercury is struck by that ghastly perfume:
And let Uranus scatter more fertility into the seas- so that more maidens will fall under her trees.
Her weeping, her weeping!
We ask what is wrong, but her soul lies sleeping. Dormant, indifferent,
In lucid fantasies she cries,
'Have you any dreams for sale, warrior of Troy?'
These women, these women! Are they not content with the gifts and ways we please them?
'I seek to hold the wind,' she envelopes me with her long hands and pleading eyes.
And this is why I flee today.
I gave her what I could: intimacy and a place to stay.
Yet a pool of water lays before me and brass-stained roses all dark and gay!
Hélas, she has transpired and leaves with no delay!
I have seen her emerald carriage...
And the treacherous path she walks on lingers with hyacinths and crocuses.
With every step of her yellowish limbs
She casts another hero to her vestigial garden
And she inhales the golden dust
That grows from the carob trees of lust.
She wears her lies in subterfuge
Even Mercury is struck by that ghastly perfume:
And let Uranus scatter more fertility into the seas- so that more maidens will fall under her trees.
Her weeping, her weeping!
We ask what is wrong, but her soul lies sleeping. Dormant, indifferent,
In lucid fantasies she cries,
'Have you any dreams for sale, warrior of Troy?'
These women, these women! Are they not content with the gifts and ways we please them?
'I seek to hold the wind,' she envelopes me with her long hands and pleading eyes.
And this is why I flee today.
I gave her what I could: intimacy and a place to stay.
Yet a pool of water lays before me and brass-stained roses all dark and gay!
Hélas, she has transpired and leaves with no delay!
Another poem about the Greek mythological goddess, Chloris, who was spotted by Odysseus, a champion of the Trojan War, in the underworld. Chloris is used as a metaphor for loss, addiction and melancholy. She has been said to turn Greek divines into flowers such as Hyancinthus and Narcissus.
She asks Odysseus if he has 'any dreams for sale' because she has no dreams of her own that she can achieve. She feels lost and nomadic.
The imagery of water in the last few stanzas is referring to the fact Chloris was like a plant and when plants transpire they release water and often leaves the plant empty and flaccid if too much water loss occurs. This is a symbol for her death and self-destructive nature.
She asks Odysseus if he has 'any dreams for sale' because she has no dreams of her own that she can achieve. She feels lost and nomadic.
The imagery of water in the last few stanzas is referring to the fact Chloris was like a plant and when plants transpire they release water and often leaves the plant empty and flaccid if too much water loss occurs. This is a symbol for her death and self-destructive nature.
