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bri 7d
Maybe I give myself too much credit: that I am good, I am doing better, I am great at my craft, that I have something to show everyone when in reality I am just average at best. What else do I show of myself that is worth a praise more than just “you did your best”? How bare do I have to be for people to pay attention to me? Maybe I am just having a bad day that has been going on for 182 days. But at the end of it all, I am just a mere performance worth 59% rotten tomatoes, it’s more than half, but barely fresh. At least I did my best? What other ******* do I have to say to myself so I don’t end up crying with a blade in my hand? It seems that trying is just never going to get me far, and the best I can give everyone is this: the mediocre poet who dreamed too high and fell so deep she died on sea. She had wings too weak and dreams too heavy that the only place she could reach was the clouds of 9, where she could only see from a few feet afar before she landed and died. That is the only thing I can offer.
Kendra Feb 23
The destruction is foreign.
The wailing.
                                                                                                   The growling.
                                                                   The hunger claws at my insides,
Seedlings sprout from the soil
as the world swells with my breath,
                                                                    and my organs begin to deflate.
yet none of my cries
will save the oak.
                                                                                          The last of my fruit
                                                                               tumbled down my throat
                                                                                          before burning up.
Alkaline rivers.
salty rivulets.
Dead water.
                                                                                      This ocean is endless.
                                                            The tides change between my teeth,
It pours from my eyes,
                                                                         and it spills from my mouth.
colourless agony.
Blood on the black earth
                                                                                    The taste of red metal,
                                                                                                 a second flood.
where the void was created,
                                                                               The void cannot be filled.
                                                                                                         Insatiable.
imperceptible.
The grove brutally butchered
                                                                               My hand bitten clean off,
by a greedy axe
and a grand appetite.
My words still create;
                                                                                                         my mouth
                                                                                                          the blade.
life still leaves my lips.
What my tongue provides,
it can withhold,
                                                                                             I give it my flesh,
and so you will
                                                                                     tear tissue from bone.
hunger.
                                                                                                Oh, the hunger.
On the right is Demeter's pov, while the left is Erysichthon's.
Man Jan 31
Birds of a feather,
On an isle of ladders;
Here now, together.
Climb to nowhere,
That just gets ever higher;
One way up, straight and narrow.
Rain pours in,
Maelstrom showers;
Prometheus cowers.
Overhead, stars twinkle;
And at least the view is beautiful
If Medusa took a Xanny,
would the Xanny only sedate Medusa
or would it also sedate the serpents
writhing in her hair?
skaldspiller Jan 4
Cover me beneath the earth.
Hide me in the warm darkness
Counting each little death until spring.

Keep me safe all winter
curled up in you.
Remind me, when the dark brings sadness,

I still like winter best.
the gentle magic
the hearth fires
Playing in the snow
with you.
#GreekMythology
Man Nov 2023
Love given, but not taken, is not love un-received;
You have love to give,
That is something.
Whether their heart is open
To the souls' hymns
Your words sing,
The song is never wasted-
But goes through changes,
As the renewal of spring.
leeaaun Dec 2023
In tales of old, on Mount Olympus high,
Where gods and goddesses roamed the sky,
Aphrodite, fair and beauty's muse,
But whispers tell of a love confused.


In affairs of hearts, her charms renowned,
Yet rumors spread, a deceit profound.
Her love, a tapestry woven with desire,
Yet secrets whispered, fueled the fire.


A cheater in the game of divine affection,
Her heart's allegiance sparked introspection.
For Cupid's arrows, not always true,
In love's labyrinth, confusion grew.


To Ares, god of war, she turned her gaze,
A clandestine affair, a dangerous craze.
In the shadows of Mount Olympus, they conspired,
Love's flame illicit, yet never tired.


The gods above, in their celestial court,
Witnessed Aphrodite's love distort.
For in her quest for passion's sweet embrace,
She left behind a trail of love's disgrace.


But was she a cheater or victim of fate?
In the realm of gods, emotions intricate.
Aphrodite, tangled in love's intricate dance,
A celestial romance, a fateful circumstance.


So, in the pantheon's tales of divine deceit,
Aphrodite's story, in whispers, we repeat.
A goddess of love, entangled in desire,
A cheater or not, the myths conspire.
All about me I remember,
The warrior, the wise teacher,
The prophets gazing at the stars,
The reddish vivid glow of Mars -
And I'm reminded of their muscular form;
Thick-skinned and proud, one born
To the region of Magnesia or Mount Pelion,
An army of spears sharp and long.

From every side they came,
The longbow with steady aim,
The warriors pointed silver swords,
The hoofbeats pounding came towards.
Then, I closed my eyes and awaited death,
Icy-cold and dark, the breath
Of my lungs heavy in my chest,
A befitting end to a perilous quest.
Published by One To a Thousand/Liminis in 'Creatures'
Copyright ©️ Joshua Reece Wylie 2022
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