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Anya Mar 2020
You saw it as I did, clear as day:
Orpheus, with his heart on display
Raising his golden voice as if to pray
That Hades would not make his lover stay.

I saw it as you did, on that stage,
Eurydice opposing Hades' rage,
Rallying the dead-eyed workers to engage,
A songbird trying to break free from her cage.

We watched it unfold before our eyes:
Hades penned that fateful compromise,
Persephone, her arms raised to the skies,
Hermes already fearing their demise.

And in those final moments, I was sure
As lovers faced each other on death's door
And went their separate ways to love no more
That I'd never loved you so much before.
Vic Oct 2019
Orpheus has Eurydice.
And I ask you,
Will you be that for me?

Together, we can feel.
We don't have to be a myth,
It can be real.
I'd walk to Hadestown and back for you, mon amour.
Mon hippocampe,
Donne-moi juste deux minutes
Le temps que je te vaccine
Religieusement
De ma machette
Le temps que je chante ma diane :
La la la la la la la la la lo lé lo la !
La la la la la la la la la lo lé lo la !
Je psalmodie
Un, deux,
Un, deux, trois...
Un, deux,
Un, deux, trois...
J'offre cette rumba à la santé de nos petites morts
De ces petites morts
Qui nous précèdent, nous suivent et nous hantent.
Au son des trois tambours de la rumba
Tu chantes faite bouteille de rhum
Et je te réponds en choeur cuillère et verre vide.
A la première reprise, chassée croisée,
Tu chantes le thème
A la deuxième reprise, mollets cambrés,
Je chante aussi couteau et toi assiette.
A la troisième reprise,
Moi, rayon de lune de lune,
Toi, croissant de soleil,
Frappons des mains à l'unisson
Communions avec nos morts sur l'aire de danse
Qu'ont foulée leurs chevaux de possession
Qui nous tiennent encore en bride
Et contiennent nos ombres.

Je me présente : Orphée
Je bombe le torse et je te dévisage
Tu te présentes : Eurydice
Tu te déhanches avec malice et tu me toises.
Un, deux,
Un, deux, trois...
Un, deux, trois,
Un, deux...
Mélangeons les syncopes,
Pervertissons la parade,
Convoquons un nouveau rituel,
Désarticulons la chorégraphie,
Nos corps interchangeables fusionnent
En une seule ombre :
Tu m'aguiches,
Je trémousse des épaules,
Tu m'habilles et déshabilles de tes passes,
Et je te chevauche de mon foulard écarlate en miroir inversé.
Viens en marchant
Dansons, marchons,
Suivons la clave
Vêtus de blanc
Gratifions nos petites morts d'une rumba
Plions, élevons, sautons, cabriolons
Retombons, tortillons, détortillons
Cambre le dos que je me déhanche !

Entre postures et figures
Improvisons, rusons, sautons-matons
Caracolons
Dans le chaud tempo
Des trois tambours de la rumba.
Et si je te vaccine
A l'improviste
Dérobe-toi, esquive-toi, nargue-moi
Pour que nos petites morts applaudissent à tout rompre
Leurs virtuoses
Et tortillent elles aussi du croupion .
Je suis Orphie, fils d'Orphée et d'Eurydice
Petits fils d'Oeagre et de Calliope,
Bercé par les Muses et les Naïades
J'ai hérité de la lyre à sept cordes
D'Apollon et j'en ai rajouté deux
Rien que pour caresser ma Muse
Ma voix est miel
Ma voix est feu
Ma voix est pierre

Elle joue, elle chante, elle danse

Elle s'insinue comme un fleuve secret sous la roche et la fissure
L'attendrit et elle s'élève tel un ballon et flotte dans le vent

Elle dévie le cours des laves en fusion
Et pénètre au coeur du Stromboli intime
De la colère des Muses
Quand elles se font Furies.

Elle dompte les bêtes féroces et charnelles
A distance elle fait fondre
Les résistances et les fantômes

On m'appelle aussi Amore

Les Furies pourront me déchiqueter

Me mettre en lambeaux

Me jeter comme mon père du haut du mont Rhodope

Je chanterai encore du fond des mers

L 'amour de mon éternelle Muse

Ma naïade bien aimée

Nue.
Igorgoldkind Oct 2017
An aesthetic is a polished stone of truth.
Where beauty shines its insight
Onto a multitude of reflective curves and planes.

Small wonder the world smiles upon the couple.
Who have shifted the surfaces they slipped from.
Orpheus and Eurydice reunited:

Having finally tripped out of the cave and into the sun.
Their outward smiles shining with the inner joy of a sight regained:
Love is the greatest beauty of them all.
Ason May 2017
I was not born of god and muse.
Pictures of virtuosic health  
captured in epic poetry
that I don’t want to write.

The music I make charms my world.
Trees and rocks
obey not the wind and current,
but the meter of my songs.

You too fell for tricks of snake,
though my tune called your name
long before they evaded my coil.

Forgive me, I won’t question your sleep below.
For even the rules of your warden dictate
you can’t look forward
while you’re looking back.

I could be your Orpheus.
Which is to say that even after death
you won’t get rid of me.

I could be your Orpheus,
but with the way his story goes
wouldn’t you say I’m probably
more like his lyre.
Meteo Nov 2015
Next to your pyre
Nest to your flame
I am ashamed by my mortality

these days have made ash accumulating of me
the grown-up ghost I'm taken to be
a soundless sonder

Through another man's lens
through another boy's poem
you are still beautiful to me

Some other man's Eurydice
Some boy who didn't turn around
when faced with the world only a few steps away

Now I am buried under this city
practicing sleepless nights
I talk to you backwards and pray for the world to begin again

a double exposure in third person
the picture makes sense, the pieces don't fit together
My schizophrenia in monochrome

Limerance,
though spurious
pending supplication
dorian green Apr 2016
my love,
are you still there?
i looked back (just to check)
and you were gone...
tamia Mar 2016
I hear your lyre cries
I hear your grief and sorrow
I hear your love for me.

You refuse to listen as they tell you
That I am too far beneath the surface
Trapped in the clutches of death's flames.

My beautiful minstrel, no longer incandescent
Do you think Apollo would be proud of what you've come to?
You roam around with your lyre of gold,
Yet you have killed your flame for love lost.

I miss the way you enchanted all of Greece with your melodies
You now make the gods and goddesses weep in pity;
You make the flowers wilt and die of sadness,
You make even the sirens wail of broken heartedness as
they drive away the sailors who were once enchanted by them.

Do you see the beautiful might of the songs you sing?

O Orpheus, listen to me when I tell you to stop searching for me:
Do not enter the caves and traverse the darkness once more
A darkness you are not meant to be in,
Darkness you are too precious for.

I hear your lyre cries
I hear your grief and sorrow
I hear your love for me
And I am sorry I could not come back with you...

But listen now, my love
Although you long for me still
I am now the only thing in your world
That your music cannot bring back to life.
from eurydice to orpheus
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