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Pyrrha Jan 5
Yes, I am a woman
We're forced to say it like a curse
Because the moment we are discovered
Evil eyes of all sorts gaze upon us, questioning and curious

Is she beautiful?
Is her skin like porcelain?
Her hair, is it soft like silk?
Do her eyes shine like the stars?
And her virtue above all else, is she pure?

Men compare us to treasure as if it's a compliment
Saying our eyes are like sapphires and emeralds
To them we are silk and gold
Nothing more than measurements of their wealth
It's as if they think we won't find out it's just another way to measure our worth,
As if they think we can't understand that it isn't a compliment, it's a currency

They don't see my warrior gaze
My impenetrable skin, thick with valor
They look at my hands and see a delicate doll
They don't see the way these delicate hands wrap around my bow
How my eyes are sharp and steady
No, they only see the innocent sparkle

They aren't looking for my capabilities
They seek value in my appearance alone
They are putting prices on me,
Comparing me to the latest trends
For what is my courage worth when I have such a beautiful face?

Yes, I am a woman
But I am a warrior first
See my battle scars, see my victories
See my strength and bravery
My honor, see it an recognize me

I am the protector of women
Not because they can't defend themselves
But because they shouldn't have to
I am the one who shows the truth
Who guides the moonlight into their veins
The one who takes away those sparkling lies
For before my eyes, no woman will bend to the whims of man
Isabel Aghahowa Jul 2020
i’m not the evil front you’ve come to know
there’s aches in my centre i can’t show
this heart beats, so silently
and it cries, it never sees the light

if i could
i would set the underworld on fire
set the powers aside, drag the cold
from my mouth
let the souls rest
let my good bless the foul
let my hands feel warm

i don’t want to be left shaking
when i let my fresh skin hit the soil
should i stand from this dark, desert throne
from where i watch world wilt
wither and fall
down to me
King Arthur Apr 2020
Most of the time, I don’t think of you
Maybe it’s because of your age
Maybe it’s because we’re safer now
Or maybe it’s because I live in always-sunny California
But when that sky does darken
And the rain comes down
I’ll hear you
Like some primordial call, dug up from the Earth or my bones
Sometimes-I’ll even see you, but just for a moment
By now, I’ve forgotten what your face looks like
But I can’t ever unlearn that power
Its no wonder you used to be the king of gods
King Arthur Apr 2020
There’s no better time than now to celebrate
Even when it feels like the world is ending, rejoice
Rejoice for life, rejoice for living, never forget
That we will always be able to fill our cups
Our sorrows will always be replaced by happiness
We will always be here after the storm
Colleen R May 2018
In this life time he loves me

And Icarus never laid eyes upon Apollo’s grace.

In this life time he loves me 

And Persephone eats from the pomegranate with a steady hand.

In this life time he loves me

And Achilles holds Patroclus without the knowledge of loss.

In this life time he loves me not 

And I ache for gods who do not ache for me.
Mel Harcum Jan 2015
I am twenty-one years old and
I have saved two lives—
a girl whose throat closed despite her
and a boy who thought he had no other choice.
By all accounts, I am
a heroine,
a savior,
some divine-palmed human spread thin
among peers who are the same. The same—
who fear the dark as fully as I
and need the quiet, sometimes,
when the din of all the mouths talking at once
becomes more heavy than loud.
Be gentle, love, approach me slowly—
do not touch my shoulder when
my eyes turn to glass and
know that I hate to be hugged
because your arms will trap my fear somewhere
within me.
I suppose there’s a reason no one writes
what happened to Odysseus
and how the gods felt after their story ended.
JP Goss Aug 2014
Deeply thrown to the maw of the earth
A gaze could own there all it’s worth
Never have extremes before been too depthless
And Transformed.
Light and darkness swallow one
As positivism is garbled and undone
Such a void of the ******, the saved
For neither have such slopes they braved
Or bedlam tamed.
Blesséd teeth of the darker cave
Lend me my voice, though starker, back
And echoed song sung,
Though lost in its ribs
Its to have in that chorus, black:
Harpish wings trickling bells and
Harmonious little sightless things
Loosed from dear Apollo’s light
Darkness scares Phoebus’ chariots
On which the fire-stallions ride.
In their flaming stead and ruthless might,
My frightful heels turned and taken flight.
JP Goss Aug 2014
Gentle winds in the rustling leaves
Remind me of your skirt behind the silent glass
I can’t help but chuckle helplessly
The memory exploits this welcomed fault
Though my mouth would never speak it.
Injurious pasts have ossified the skin
Sentinel stone is what remains, sojourned to Ascalon
Misery in the granite *****, stoic in emotion
I drew this targe so flighty, back turned to the alter
To find my steps at the Temple Aphrodite.
I would protect those who love, those who hate
For I stood, the interstice, n’er affy to one
Neither credence on this sealed tongue.
Priests of joy, your vines they spent
In time they found those cracks so well
Bloom in lush across the hardness
Of generations’ sediment
The heat and stirring from below
Pushed to the sun and carved in my aspect
Nurtured by those sweet waters of your stride
The language imbued from the portrait of your mind
Infused with my coldness found within
And crack and crumble as they light falls low
Such debris may let love in.

— The End —