jace 10h

Odysseus, we greatly praise you
From your strength and wisdom
The greeks are lucky to have you
And so is your kingdom

Such great adventures, king Odysseus
Its a shock you could survive
The journey was very dangerous
But at least you're still alive

I was actually pressured into making this as I was tested by my english teacher to write a poem about Odysseus in 15 minutes. I just made it comedy so that I could at least get her attention

Poem inspired by floor mosaic in National Gallery in London

I'm happy to be a bird
fed by my Mistress, Polyhymnia,
Muse of sacred poetry and songs.
She makes my life worthwhile,
and I make her days silentless.
I don't need anything else,
I don't desire any other fate,
but being in her presence, every day.
She will never forget about me,
she will never leave me hungry,
she will always be sitting there
with an open, stretched out hand
on which sweet seeds are placed,
waiting for me to hear my chime -
a song about perfect sense.

The Harbour quakes as we break your Boom,
The Nemesis Sails-Harbinger of doom,
A New Chapter - the Sly Celt Raptor,
Bain Shi proceed us-Scream in rapture
As The Bodhran shakes your eardrums shatter,
Lightning rakes- your defences Scatter,

It's raiding season!-Take your Oars!,
Boats filled to the brim with Ores and Whores
our targets-fat Merchants waddle,
Crimson seas as the Forces Battle

The Morrigan Swaddles our mind with the caul (call)
no Mercy asked(None Given!) SLAY ALL
Widows scream as they're dragged to the Ship
Towns burn to ash in our wake as we rip,  
A Blood red Swathe Through the Dawn in the east,
As the Nemesis Sails,The Harbinger Feasts...

This is the second of "The Nemesis Tales" (Number one is just called The Nemesis and is up here)
a Serial tale based around a Demon Ship called somewhat obviously The Nemesis,
there will be blood!

You see,
-what I do is tell you the truth first,
then, over time; I stretch it.
when you trust me most.

That way,
-if we fall apart, one day.
You will assume that, I,
was -always lying to you.

The Land,
-stays Irish, moistened but not wet.
A solace becalms you, -thinking...
...about your' Nature these days?

"Brothers will fight one another
and kill one another.
Cousins will break peace
with one another.
The world will be a hard place to live in.

"…an age of the axe, an age of the sword,
an age of storms, an age of wolves.
Shields will be cloven."

Brothers fought one another
and killed one another.
Cousins broke peace
with one another.
The world was a hard place to live in.

But this is no battlefield of
gods and men
Nor triumph over fell beast
and the splitting of shields.

This is the exploding shell
down cobbled streets of old;
of thatched roofs ablaze,  
the ashen ruin of hearth and abode;
The weeping eye of Theotokos
in Ragnarǫk’s gaze.

Two decades before;
football on Christmas morn’.
'Stille Nacht' from the trench,
that soothing tune.

Giving of gifts and handshakes
And smiles in between,
When it first dawned upon you:
You were brothers.

Vǫluspá in the Poetic Edda details the mythological Norse end of the world; Verse 44 constitutes the introduction of my poem.


She sits sequestered horizontally
Against currents of mindless winds-

Her apathy uncontested
By neither man nor wicked thing.


She flutters hopelessly
On glass wings,



Are the fragile little things
That hold her head up
Above the towering sea chains-

Her lungs' heavy breaths
Dull her spirit's grin

And all her numbered days
Tick away without a sound-

Engulfed by the ocean's deep breath-

Beneath insanity's serenity-

She drowns.

gentle demeanor and caring soul,
you watched me from afar.
you came from a troubled home.
little did you know that I did, too.

misunderstood, my night princess.
you held the keys in your
hands the whole time,
you just never had your timing right.

four garnet pomegranate seeds
you offered me.
believing me to be of
grace and elegance.

I came swiftly.
and though you rule the
grounds of the underworld,
we were the two queens.

I was already broken
by the time you captivated me.

addicted from the start.

I taught you tricks of my own,
and being the princess of darkness,
you already knew them.

but the stories have it wrong.
the history books documented our inevitable arrival incorrectly.

it was not hades that corrupted persephone, but the path of destruction we paved together.
I was always leaning toward
your side from the start.

in love with danger and the promise
that you would never hurt me.

I am your queen, and you are mine.

june 1st, 2014

dedicated to my lady hades.

I loathe my inability to hate you.
I still love you, but I will never be your queen again.

you threw me from the underworld, out of the depths of eternal winter.
Pagan Paul Jan 10

And so; Zeus condemned Sisyphus
'to Tartarus thou shalt henceforth go.
Thou hast cheated death now twice,
not thrice shalt thou escape below.

And so; Sisyphus again descended
passed Hades and on further down,
eternally pushing a boulder up a hill
from the base up to the crown.

And so; for eternity did Sisyphus
employ muscle, sweat and pain,
to gain the summit with heavy stone
which rolled slowly back down again.

© Pagan Paul (2018)

Iris Proctor Jan 10

For half a revolution she spends her days
in caliginous caverns
where worms like silver thread
weave through moistened walls.
Water, endless dripping,
howling, whining, stalagmite fangs.

It began with a stranger,
shrouded with shadows.
Petrichor breath,
and beetle black eyes,
twisted root fingers,
and scattered seeds.

It was lonely at first,
death and loss and
weary wayfarers with tired souls.
An estranged husband,
a trio of rumbling growls,
and the lonesome echo of her own footsteps.

Waiting for a someday,
that will never come,
her titles, a mantra
repeat in her head;
daughter, lover, mother and wife,
stealer of souls and giver of life.

And so when the daffodils bud,
and the world awakens,
when she blinks through sunshine
and steps into the light,
she holds her head high.
She is Queen of the Underworld,
bolder than before,
she will evade their pity,
and transcend them all.

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