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Euphie Jan 27
With poets' sinew, the dream I have will be
played like a harp until I wake.

Until the time comes
I hope one day...
the elixir that remains
in my mouth will last
until death comes.
Arianna Nov 2018
Lyre keening,
Alas Fate has spoken:
Insatiable, prevailing over all.
Two hours long, but so worthwhile: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dBsXbn0clbU
Temporal Fugue Oct 2018
I'll take my Lyre to the gates
and beat them down, you'll see
nothing in this world can stop
what, is meant to be

Put your hand upon my shoulder
I'll lead you past the seven hells
we'll exit past the demons, imps
noses plugged sulfuric smells

Dire be the consequence
as Hades did explain
never looking back again
for there she will remain

When we close the iron behind
and relish each other's touch and eyes
laughing in our escape
this kind of love
can and will
survive
Wandering and pondering myth ;D
Arianna Oct 2018
Beloved, receive thy Crimson Bride:

“Χαίρε, O Nymph, loved by the gods and the Terrible Fates!”

May this sacrifice of roses
Strewn smoking as She approaches
Propitiate sovereign Love and Time,
That our gods will accept this fiery bouquet,
Bestowing their blessings upon ye Lovers:

For the flowers of innocence have passed away, and now
Upon the nuptial altar
Lover and Beloved stand
Fellows
In limbo.
"Prayers and Musings in the Temple of Fire, No. VI"
Dogslinwriter Aug 2018
Dear Orpheus,
You have been very patient.
The silence of a loved one is difficult to keep up with.
You still talk like nothing has changed.
I know this is scary.
I know you love me.
I know to love and not hear "I love you" back is horrifying.
I know that once your eyes used to light up looking at me.
I still see that light, but it's distant now,
Like the light is at the horizon ready to disappear.
I know I am asking for too much.
Loving someone who is dead isn't easy
Bringing back someone who is dead isn't easy.
Fighting for the dead isn't easy.
I know you believe in me because you've seen me alive.
But sometimes you can't beat death.
Your patience is everything to me.
I never knew how much hurt a dead person can give,
until I saw you hurting.
I want to come back. I want to return.
To our world.
To the enchanting music of your lyre.
I know there will always be uncertainties.
I know there will always be an Aristaeus walking behind me.
I know this time wouldn't last forever.
I hope you do too.
I know you have fought the gods and monsters for me.
So just wait, dear Orpheus.
For I am fighting too.

I am walking behind you.
I know you don't hear me.
Do not turn for I am trying to keep up.
Do not rush for it wouldn't make it any better.
I am a shadow, haunted by Hades, dear Orpheus.
Wait a little more, I don't want to lose you forever.
Your Eurydice.
Nick Stiltner Feb 2018
A plane of faces turned upside down,
Somewhere along the trail to the Underworld.
The long corridor stretches indefinitely,
Torches spread sparsely along the walls.
The spiraling stairs push deeper on.

“Do not look back, he said
Do not looked back!” He thought.
Terror struck, for he remembered clearly
the lessons the hushed voice had taught.

A grief struck chord plucked from within,
As his sobs began to form.
“Oh, the fool I am!” He cried,
“Why could I have not held my gaze,
Held my vision steadfast
To the closing morning rays?”

As he reached the bottom,
He readied his lyre
And stuck strings in frenzy dire.
Rounding the corner to the banks of flowing Styx,
He saw the same creatures he once tricked.

Determined eyes and sure hands,
He struck the chords at the essence of man.
But this time the creatures lining the Styx,
Were not so surely bewitched.

They closed nearer, vicious growls upon their lips.
Back met stone, an exit long gone.
“The song had always worked,” cried the desperate man, words falling on unhearing ears.

Yes, his tune had always worked,
But not twice tonight.
To mortal love you have given your life,
For you cannot fool Pluto twice.
Katherine Smith Feb 2018
darling—

i almost made it out
the house
down the slanted
           concrete
                      steps
i nearly passed the garden gate
with tired
        ivy
            crawlers
for a moment i thought i was free
no ghosts
       no ashen memories—
But bags in hand i couldn't help
and took
     a glance
            behind.
I used to hate the myth of Orpheus, I think it's because I was scared of making the same mistake.
Johnny Noiπ Feb 2018
Jason, leader of the Argonauts
writes in his log, ‘We have come far
& yet have only found
discarded pieces of her garment
floating on the current as if leading
us on to her lavender abyss;
Asclepius, much like Hart Crane
gaily diving off the side of the ship
fishes her sandal from the waters;

Asclepius sniffing the well worn footwear;
his healing eyes ignite,
‘These surely were worn by the Goddess;
Her foot-odor is all over them’,
the divine doctor says
Stroking the abandoned enchanted instep

Heracles wonders if this is a sign
Or if the doctor simply has a shoe fetish;
Tiresias telling the strongman that
Every fetish has its purpose &
this will reveal the direction her steps have
taken & that it was Prometheus himself
Who gave sheer lingerie to women
To catch the scent & hold men spellbound

After some basic Homeric
conversational one-upmanship
& Socratic back-and-forth,
Tiresias succeeds in convincing Heracles
of the rightness of drooling
Dr. Asclepius’s perverted actions;

The Argonauts are destined for success
By decree of Zeus, father of the gods;  
Calliope, a giant who blows the clouds
into shapes & makes the four winds
sing like a boy band; can become
human size whenever she desires
& ****** mortal men w/ her song

I would think right there on the temple floor
on mats softer than any fur,
We are destined to spend 40 nights
as captives of her furious wrestling tiger-women
whose roar is so loud the sound roils
through the vined jungle and across the tops
of the darkest trees and every living
creature goes into a heat and goes to ground
To mate driven lustily insane by
the unearthly screams,
and just then growls rang out


Her blood boiling hot,
No one had ever come so near,
it was as if a fight to the death was on,
but no death seemed clear


Of all the heroes on the Argos
Only one truly worried; Calliope's
own son would have to endure
witnessing yet again his mother
****** his shipmates; the muse
of epic poetry inspiring love visions
in their heads, meaning Orpheus,
greatest poet & musician
of the ancient world would have to yet
again wield the eternally
perfectly tuned lyre given him
by his muse-mother's master,
sun god Apollo for just this cause;

Another painful reminder that his mother
was a **** who molested him
when he was but a singing child;
she had taught him the ways
of poetry & music but
at the price of his sympathy & as if
embracing the death of love, it would
be Orpheus' task to yet
again bewitch his own mother

Intrigued, Calliope bursting mortal
chains asunder grows into who knows how tall
Only to dissolve from sight
into a swarm of sea creatures;
Calliope, beloved mother of Orpheus
casting bones as the ship goes over the edge of the world;

As if from two separate points of view
the hero embarks on his Quest for the majestic crone,
Only to find his ship navigating through
Amazon territory (so Freudian, so Jungian)
where he searches for the temple of the mythic mystic female;

Every legendary goddess has heard of him
From still-more ancient legends
known only to them; the hero whose name
is as yet unknown goes to the prow of his ship,
at long last seeing her white mountains
& following her thunder

By Medusa & Johnny Noir
Igorgoldkind Oct 2017
An aesthetic is a polished stone of truth.
Where beauty shines its insight
Onto a multitude of reflective curves and planes.

Small wonder the world smiles upon the couple.
Who have shifted the surfaces they slipped from.
Orpheus and Eurydice reunited:

Having finally tripped out of the cave and into the sun.
Their outward smiles shining with the inner joy of a sight regained:
Love is the greatest beauty of them all.
Michael Briefs Jul 2017
Journeys rendered dateless,
Unending,
Wayward and extending out,
Round the compass points --
Dizzying aspiration to cease this race,
To slow my sprinting soul,
This run splintering, in exhaustion.

Expiring breath of hope or of home
Evaporated in a distance
Vanishing and
Disconnected.
Drifting
On trackless tides, across
Labyrinthine depths,
Within the vast heart
Of the world
I cannot run from.

Yet, I moved to and between
The center or its peripherals, in
Singular or collectives,
Seeking pattern and
Drawing connectives –-
Brushing by and
Bustling among
People
Entranced In their own
Objectives.

I watched their movements
And their exchanges,
I heard their rituals and
Invocations.
In all these transitions,
They have no inkling
That their seemingly trite
Lives merely manifest
The epic motifs of the heavens!

Our imaginations mirror
The vitality of the gods!
We are as immortal as they!
Our simple, sensual stories
Are also enduring legends
Unfolding,
As our pages turn,
Our flags are unfurling!

Just as our fellow
Olympians of old
Engaged in a marathon of
Endeavor to heights
Unimagined!
From those mystic days
Since Orpheus’ ardent lyre
Sang notes
Of Nature’s divinity, Her
Eternal sweetness.

We need only sense that
It is in Nature’s essence
We are sharing.
With her, we are joined in
An undying marriage,
A unified pairing –
Our human heritage,
Our dignified bearing.

We share in that song,  
We share in that sweetness,
We share in that race,
We share in Her immanence.

This journey is our own.

It goes on, unending!
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