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Apollo, Apollo
The God of poetry
I'd also like to learn archery
And a song or two
On the lyre from you
XD lawl...
The Falls of Gods
Have no need for the ephemeral
Tide pools and eddy trails
Of man
And of his fickle creations

Man sees ant
Laboring tirelessly
And thinks how
Ultimately futile these rote
Machinations of nature are

When man can see his own
Futility
Then perhaps his world
Might be expanded
But not before

As the waterfall crashes
Like a primeval storm upon
The rocks
So too
Do I and all of humanity
Crash upon the ant

So what is to keep some god
From being the
Waterfall
To our smooth and
Supposedly wise stones
No more than haughty pebbles
Are we
Cara May 2015
The anger of a forgotten god
Wreaking havoc upon the land
For your bad intentions and misguided ways
Don't know if I can stand

This

Sin soaked world or it's endangered innocence or
Lurking shadows, in the dead of the night
I just can't fathom your immoral ignorance I
Can't accept your soulless demands

You know you can't say that
With your sinful lips in a slow dance
You're just my temptation
Can't stop this fixation

Hidden grace without noble purpose
Left to roam, more than blood and more than bone

Maybe we should just give in to the devil and
Maybe we should just let go for a while and
Maybe we should forget about a heaven and
Maybe we should and Maybe we could but there's

Anger in our forgotten gods but then
Maybe we don't really have a choice at all.
rogue May 2015
the mortals have found a new god.
our strength is wavering,
flickering,
soon to be extinguished.
like a forgotten match,
left to burn.
our souls ignite into an uncontrollable fire.
ruined temples and desecrated graves.
destruction follows them,
like flames licking at the remnants of an old age
as the ash settles around us.
burn them all.
Sa May 2015
Close your eyes and
be alone with the forgotten Gods
buried in your soul.
Let your ribs be the iron cage
That winged hearts of men fear
Let your eyes hold such depth
All who gaze be lost there, always
Let your arms be lovely yet strong
May you contest with Atlas
As you both hold up the world
Let tears be not weakness
But rivers that cut their path
Through the stone mountains of your cheeks
Let lips hold words of faith and courage
May you speak truthfully
May you be harsh when called for
Let your voice shake the earth
You are nature herself
You bleed the Golden Ichor of Gods
And where it falls, flowers grow
Let your heart be the strong Oak
And your capillaries, roots
The sky will bend for you
The birds will sing for you
The world will love you
But love yourself, first.
Mikaila Apr 2015
Perhaps it was this feeling that originally drove humanity to create gods.
Perhaps we have always burned with a desire to love
So terrifying and so powerful that to bestow it onĀ another living creature became...
The first sin.
Perhaps we needed a safe, indestructible being to worship,
To croon to in the night,
Whose face we could never touch but could yearn to unabashedly,
Whose hands we could never kiss but perhaps pretend they cradled us,
Whose love we could never lose because it was in fact our own reflected back.
It is a lonely love. It is a love that...
Maybe I can understand how wars were fought,
Maybe I can understand the FEAR,
The longing all wrapped up in belief, that could create such loyalty, such blindness, and such cruelty.
There is a need in us that can only be satisfied by gods,
Because on earth, in truth, it cannot be satisfied at all, and we are too maddened and too terrified by that knowledge to face it.
Better to love somebody who cannot be touched,
Who cannot be heard,
Who cannot die, or leave, or change, or fail.
(Who cannot live, or arrive, or stay, or succeed)
Somebody who cannot love back.
Whose proof we will never demand because it cannot be given, and we know it.
We choose to love something that we will never see,
Not because it fills us up
Not because it makes us complete
But because you can't lose something you don't have.
(Yes the title is a Tolkein quote)
i don't have a way with words
less poet
more the howling fool that chases them apart
my sweaty struggles always leave me blinded and alone
owed nothing
clinging to
empty

empty
spaces
i call these spaces stories
and like the siren that grants
a shipwreck and death against razor sharp rocks
i lure them in
found their deepest darkest secret

every word wants nothing more
than to die like a story
see,
i have a way with stories
and i'd like to imagine
that stories take up a place as the echo
of love when it grows from that first enticing smile
or the infant cry when it purges childhood pain
deep down in the hidden treasuries of
your most heartfelt of hearts
me tracing this with pitch black ink on paper
you committing this to your beating crimson heart
we're connected with an ancient thread that
even the gods dare not tear apart

see they too
in all their might and glory
want nothing more
than the epic bliss
of a truly good
and heartfelt
story.
A story dedicated to the struggles of poets.
For my fellow HP poets especially :)
Prayers and whispered wishes
To Greek gods, false gods,
Rulers of fictional realms
And still prayers echo
For strength, love, compassion;
You hold Hera in your soul,
She never bowed before mortals.
Nor averted her eyes from Zeus,
Not when storms thundered
Not when the skies shook
Lift your head, child of time,
Look them all in the eyes
And know that you have a goddess
Coursing through your veins
You are infinite, golden, ageless.
They will write songs about you
And men will weep as you leave

You've no need for prayers
Charlie Apr 2015
Does Eros smile down on us when he see's our interaction?
Does Cupid notch an arrow when he see's we're in pain?
And Venus, does she boast when a couple marry?
Are there Gods looking down on us controlling our love?
I have to wonder...
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