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Lyn-Purcell Oct 27

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:
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/132853/the-women-of-myth/
Be back tomorrow with another one!
Please take care of yourselves and stay safe!
Much love,
Lyn 💜
Luiz Sep 23
she thinks she's like us...

a mortal
M R White Sep 19
Mortality is a strange thing. I don't think of her often.
But when I do, she knocks me to my knees. Taking all the air out of my lungs. She's powerful and stoic. Who thinks of her when they are the top of the world?
Not one. But she's always there, to catch you when you're sinking into the floor. Painfully reminding you she's the only one who you speak to when the night is dark and cold.
She's tricky and sly.
Taking the old, but also the young,
a baby, hardly a week old.
a kid, barely a quarter of a century young.
How do I justify her actions? Why not me? I didn't ask for these growing pains. But again, nobody does. Nobody asks to be plucked from the Earth.
Why does she chose to ****** every beautiful being from this Earth?
Why is she so strange?
Perhaps, she must remind us that we are just mortals.
We are of this Earth, she is not.
She must remind us, because we often forget.
struggling with mortality, more than usual.
annh Aug 27
I closed my eyes against the mortal limitations of this world and settled back to watch reruns of my youth. Discouragement and dissatisfaction gave way to golden hours and glory days, depicted in vivid technicolour and accompanied by a flugelhorn fandango.
‘No story is the same to us after a lapse of time; or rather we who read it are no longer the same interpreters.’
- George Eliot
Sabika H Jul 27
The tap drips onto
still waters.
Ripples echo and remind me
of my mortality,
then I am reminded of
my morality
and suddenly
I don't have much time.
Ripples echo
and remind me of
my loneliness and
suddenly
nothing I own is truly
mine.

These waters are deep
and dark and stare
into the abyss inside.
A hollow shell governed by
reckless winds,
what happens when
water and wind
collide?
Ordeezy Jul 21
What if God was a man, like mortal beings
He would be a man feared by kings
He would awe the world by doing unspeakable things,
The world will know of his name
Atheist would try but science can’t explain.

If God was a man,
He would seat on the throne of dilemma
Trying to answer the prayers of every man
The common man who prays for good health
For business sake, the coffin maker prays for death,
The common man who prays for peace in his place
The lawyer who prays for his case.

If God was a man,
One that I can touch this close
If man propose, how dare he dispose!
Isn’t he human like us?
Why does he find joy in our loss?

If God was a man,
Would he also fall in love?
Would that explain the birth of his son?
When he dies where will he go?
Would he tell us world secrets no one knows?

If God was a man,
Would we see him as God?
Would you believe if he performed miracles as God?
Or if he spoke in a heavenly voice?
Would you rather think
he is just a man seeking fame by force
I think that I have forgotten
How to pray
Until faced with dreadful fear,
When all the sacred words,
Learned when I was young,
Come sudden flooding back
To my tongue.
Unlike the devout,
Prayer is not something
I do without certain doubt
That catastrophe cannot be prevented
Without divine help
On bended knee entreated.
Jay M May 14
Do any of my words make sense?
Living a life in constant defense
Scared to let the walls break
Scared that all people want is to take
I put pages of my mind on display
See who comes out to play
To tear or to read
This warning I hope they heed;

I’m fragile, despite my walls
I’ve recovered from my falls
All I want is to be myself
Not let that rot, sit on a shelf
Indeed, I can be a little dark
But at least I’ve got a spark
Breaking way to a raging fire
Of care and desire
To live my life
And hope that it be not alone
‘Tis dim on my own

Can’t you see it in my eyes?
The truth, there it lies
Awaiting for a gentle soul
To dive into the rabbit hole
And aid me in climbing out of its depths

Yes, all is well
A well puppeted shell
Internally, all is numb
Emotions down to but a crumb
For reasons unsure
Some thought ‘twas a cure
But all is rather obscure
When all is teetering on the edge
Longing for some kind of knowledge

Then, on occasion
It returns
In an immeasurable quantity
A crack in the stone dam
Then come the surging waters;
Is this who I am?

Feeling nothing for hours
Then suddenly it devours
My very being
As though from blind to seeing
All once more returning
Then greatly yearning
Reminded of patience
Finally, content
For one must be patient
Best not to come riding in
Like a knight upon a horse
Claiming a grand win
Oh, but of course

Is something not missing?
A faint ring,
Ring ringing in the ear
Faintly one does hear;
A calling
Memory of one falling
Caught by none other than the one hearing

A tease
Putting at ease
Hope burning bright as a November fire
Keeping one warm
Fueling a wishful desire
To embrace what chance may provide
Still, one must hide
Behind the bark of a mighty pine
Before approaching that wonder of thine

True, a mortal heart does sing
Key placed in the palms
Of one singing sweet psalms
O, what a sacred thing
The key to a mortal heart
Coveted at the hands of a work of art

Forests visible in those gateways
Where a dazzling soul doth roam
Seemingly floating in its gentle essence
A blessed, pure home
When one is in its presence

Planes the hue of Florida sands
The edges of a vast ocean
Such tender hands
Crafting, weaving words upon parchment
Placed to lure out emotion
A symphony of words
Yet all are lost
When hands meet

A tree has roots, in a mortal’s case ‘tis feet
That travel distances near and far
Look up, make a wish upon a star
As they carry said mortal across the material plane
To greet one so meek
Trembling ever so slight, scarcely able to utter a squeak

Is this truly a mortal
Standing before one so small
Or an angel in disguise?

Voices brought out
Then such is in momentary drought
Like the push and pull of an ocean wave
Words come out in a strangely familiar flux
Until there is a slight disturbance

A time limit is presented
Such a short time remained
A comment made regarding such;
“O, how those that raise us
Shan’t rule us forever.”
Says one

In a surprising and subtle reply,
From the - angel? - ;
“Indeed, I am sure they can’t,”
“And surely shan’t rule me forever.”
Delivering such words with the sweetest expressions
A reassuring smile and the most gentle of eyes
Igniting a brilliantly burning flame of hope

O, how one needed not linger
But linger one had;
Turning between the calling authority and the angel,
Finally turning to the angel
For a sweet moments embrace
Lasting for several heartbeats
Wrapped in the tranquilizing wings of an angel

Slowly slipping away
Uttering a farewell
Yearning to stay
Indeed, bidding adieu was a taste of hell
For the one who fell
For an angel

As the distance grew ever greater between one and the angel
‘Twas as though there was the tugging of a string
One of scarlet red
Bound is the heart and head
Of one so small
And an angel so fair

As one rests a scattered mind
What interesting things dream-walkers would find
The meek one, in a flowing gown of blue
Gently tamed mane of darkest brown hue
Skin of dampened sand
Gateways of rich soil with but a touch of emerald partially buried
Barely noticeable by any whom dare gaze
Into the eyes of one so pitiful

Dancing alone upon the stern of a grand ship
Under the roof of a painted white gazebo
Overlooking the vast sea below
With the sway of a hip
One slowly dancing doth call;

“Angel, o angel of mine,”
“Hear me now, and allow,”
“For my voice to reach those divine ears of thine.”

From the heavens doth enter the angel,
In a suite of raven black and deep ocean blue
Silken hair of earth with ends of gold
Wings unfurled, of purest white snow
In pale moonlight, a heavenly glow

Approaching one so small, one so unworthy of such wonder
In that moment, doubt is cast asunder
The angel taking the hands of one so small,
Whispering into an ear;

“‘Twas for me you did fall,”
“Just as ‘tis you I fell for,”
“Down from the heavens,”
“For not heaven,”
“Nor the Earth, nor hell,”
“Could ever keep us apart.”

Spun about like a ribbon in the hands of a dancer
A question with the perfect answer
Then taken back, mane just brushing the wood below
Gazing up into the gateways of the most heavenly fellow
Before being given heaven’s kiss
Delicate lips of an angel
Meet those of a human
Truly, could this
Not be a moment most blessed?

Arising to meet once more with entrancing eyes
To dance in the nights bliss
Fading gently into darkness
Then returning into the waking world
What a vision ‘twas..

Rising in the pale light morning brings
Wearing tokens of an angels affection
A warmth fills the heart
As ‘tis time to start
Such a peaceful day
To explore all it could be
Wishing to spend it with thee

Venturing through a valley of words
Searching for those best to utter
To whisper to an angel
As ones words are none compared
To those smooth as butter
Parting from the lips of the angel
In the start having repaired
A once damaged heart
Now pulsing, beating for the healer

Hoping, yearning to see the angel once more
Attempting to craft a plan
A day, not near yet not too far
This wonder is of lore

Perhaps 5 weeks after the last
The day remaining the same as the one past
If such is possible, of which one pleas it be
Let one catch a moment with thee
One day, as the angel did once say
Maybe things shall be okay
Open the curtains, shine a little light
Then, hopefully together, take flight
Into a world of their design.

- Jay M
May 13th, 2020
For the angel I fell in love with, who never ceases to surprise me.

I started writing this as a poem about how my emotional state has been as of late, then it just...well, it got better and blossomed into a poem about the love of my life.
Sabika H Apr 7
Your tear
Trickles and drips
Into a sea
Of blood.
Chains left
Red and blue stains
Around your wrist,
Around your neck.
Mirrors show a reality
You cannot accept.

You scream
Watching the growth of
A rotten seed.
What else do you do
In the wake of
The ugliest deed?
What else do you do
In the wake of
A limitless greed?

Your tear
Trickles and drips
Into a sea of blood.
Ripples grow
And reach out
Far and wide
Tainting streams.

The blood boils.
The blood hears the chains
Rattle in this
Mortal coil.
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