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One of Fate's traids
Threads spun long with great twine sides
From birth to the hearse

New day, new haiku!
I'm covering the the Moirai aka the Fates now! They were known to be the daughters of Zeus and Themis predominantly, but I have heard their parentage vary: from Chaos to Nyx to even Gaia. One of the best parts about myths is that it's so malleable. They were in charge of the fates of mortals, from who were born to who died and each have their own unique tasks as well. Clotho was the spinner - she spun the threads of life and death to which this haiku talks about. Imagine how that sort of power of life and death in your very hands. It's truly something that is quite amazing to think about as well as terrifying.

Anyway, thank you all for growing followers, I'm forever humbled and grateful for the support 🙏🌹💜
Here's the link for the growing collection:
Be back tomorrow with another one!
Please take care of yourselves and stay safe!
Much love,
Lyn 💜

Fine queen of Carthage
Kingdom grew from a bull's hide
Vow burns within her heart

New day, new haiku!
Yes, the Women of Myth series is ready to be continued! ^.^
Hard to believe that this is my 980th poem! I've extended the list so a lot to come now.
This haiku is about Queen Dido [aka Elissa], the legendary founding queen of Carthage, known as Tunisia today which is located in Africa, on the north-western coast.  I believe her name means 'wanderer' which suits her perfectly, to be honest.

Dido's story is one that is inspirational as well as tragic. Before she became the Queen of Carthage, she was a Princess of Tyre, a city in today's Lebanon.
After her father, King Mattan passed away [In Virgil's Aeneid, the King is named Belus], he wanted his children, Dido and Pygmalion to co-rule the Kingdom. At the time, Dido was married to Sychaeus / Acerbas, High Priest [ as well as and her paternal uncle] who amassed great wealth. The moment Mattan died, Pygmalion seized power and killed the high priest to gain his wealth and riches but it was not to be as Acerbas hid his wealth which Dido found and with it, as well as a handful of supporters, she fled Tyre, sailing the Mediterranean until they ended up in the north-western coast of Africa.

Safe from her brother's wrath, she came to meet the ruler of the land, Iarbas, and sold her land that can be covered by a bull's skin. Dido was as shrewd as she was beautiful. She cleverly cut the bull's skin into strips and used to enclose land for herself and her people, to Iarbas' shock and chagrin but clearly, he was impressed and intrigued. He honoured his word and the kingdom of Carthage was founded. The king watched her from afar, noting that under her rule, the kingdom thrived and he wanted her for himself.

But Dido made a vow to herself that she will take no other man as her husband. Iarbas was not swayed. He wanted her so much that reportedly, he threatened war. Feeling trapped and wanting to keep her word, Dido took her own life. Some say by sheathing a blade into herself on the funeral pyre another, by throwing herself into the pyre itself.

In Virgil's legendary poem, Aeneid, Dido fell head over heels for the Trojan Hero, Aeneas but still, her husband had a firm place in her heart. She took her own life when he was called away, following his duty to the gods.
But to be honest, I rather prefer the original story over Virgil's. For it gives this beautifully clever and tragic queen a more well-rounded view. Though Virgil's narrative is similar and further exaggerates her tragic end through Aeneas rejecting her which majorly contributed to her end.

Dido is a fascinating character to me. She deserves every respect, this wonderful mortal queen. 🌹
Anyway, thank you all for growing followers, I'm forever humbled and grateful for the support 🙏🌹💜
Here's the link for the growing collection:
Be back tomorrow with another one!
Please take care of yourselves and stay safe!
Much love,
Lyn 💜
body like a Hoplite,
raised from the dust to lay the land-
sent armed
ashen spear and heart,
trunks of armour clad legs
growing into the clay coloured Earth

these lyre-heartstrings taut with longing.
to see
a browbeaten Myrmidon,
in daylight.

watch, as the breath of Zeus escapes
Grecian chests,
concave with muscle
Olympus itself exists within those crevices.

i lay offerings,
ambrosia soaked spoken word
at the under-flesh of your calf
laying beside myself
in hope the whispers bestowed to you from the Fates
on the eve of Troy
mean less with your lips, pressed to wine, against mine.
Asara 6d
did You dream of the war when We were young?

when the war was a far away nightmare
days were peaceful and no song was unsung
and doom was coming, with Us unaware

You were doomed to fight and be a Hero
and I, was a mere follower of You
yet You love me like there's no tomorrow
our love were something no one could undo

the Fates said no Hero could be happy
Gods and Goddesses were also unjust
so You defied them, tried so hard to be
as lovers and soldiers, We would attest

home was somewhere in our warmth and our eyes
alas war was cruel, it's gone as I died
A sonnet about Achilles and Patroclus
Zeus bothered the sleeping summer

And left the moon bewildered-

Dancing around earth clockwise,

Stars fell in complete mayhem.

And there came Poseidon in rage!

Waves reached the mighty sky

And never returned to its abode,

Abruptly, it stopped kissing the lonely shore.

Hades crawled out from the underworld

With the three-headed Cerberus

Wiggling its tail, mouth wide-open-

Summer was doomed.

Screaming to the deserted forest,

Echoed voice answered the call

Autumn turned silver from gold

Spring battled with Fall.

Turmoil awakened the sun

Stretching out its rays to the skyline

Coating the universe with warmth

Hope sprouted as the birds sang.

The gods went back to Olympus-

Left the earth in yellow embrace

Filled the clouds with pink and orange hues

Behind this milieu, I found you.
kylie Oct 16
pink plush lips against my clavicle
breathe into me a life that i never knew
before you
— galatea
Calamity is coloured yellow - quince deep, pear shallow - intervining yellow of narcissi palms and morning rise, connecting crusty sunbeams of past, present -----------------------------------------------------------------­-----------------
yellow is this line connecting what one may choose, as Latin connects meaning of smart words, and Greek of relevant.
Calamity - yellow - meaning. Yellow holds fullness between, as it is cut off from the glorious star. When we pass through calamity, our meanings will merge and we will dream yellow, for there will cease to be difference among us. Shakespeare - Goethe - Poe: who shall set apart?
Such is nature in yellow that real and unreal may collide in its shape, and make all sense. For I have bled yellow when she weaved her last and sunk beneath Canal Grande - like a candle in autumnal sunrise - hundred and twenty years ago. For I have cried yellow when the fire - ignited lighthouse rose from seas of amber, twenty seven years after. For I have laughed when fungal trees closed on million - lighted city (jewelled and lonely island), today.

And so yellow is sewn to make an etching.
To M. Q.
Alex Scaife Sep 30
Icarus cradled himself as the
Surface roared closer and closer,
Screaming like a siren in his ear

For a brief moment he looked and saw
That tower which had kept him and all
That surrounded it. It used to be ugly
But now with death approaching, all that was
ordinary became too beautiful to bare.
First poem in ages
Rachel Sep 26
horse-drawn, shrouded in a ring of fire
blazing heart on chariot
a vestal hyacinth
dipped in liquid sunset
lips dripping ambrosia
with a kiss of paparouna
Apollo and Hyacinth
I did not choose for it to happen
I did not have a choice
But the gods
They do not care.

And so my hair is naught but snakes.

I came to this cave-
I had to eventually-
My only choice was when.

Still,  I chose the time of my own volition-
the people do not care.
They  blame me.
They say it was my choice to be struck
And drowned
And violated
In the temple I lived in.
They say i deserved the poison,
And they call me a monster.
The snakes may bite me,
But I choose who else they attack.

It is not my fault it happened.
The curse is not my fault.
The people, constantly attacking me and being killed for it-
It is their fault.
And it is the gods’ fault too.

The gods-
They do not care.
They send a boy to attack me,instead of doing it themselves.
Perhaps they feel guilty.

They do not care.

I cannot choose to die-
But I can choose when.
And so i open my eyes-

Used as an object, even in death.
inspired by
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