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Psychosa Aug 2022
You are the seeds of Hades.
When I look at you,
My soul bleeds with desire.

Without you,
I starve.
Tempted by you,
my mouth parched,
I close my eyes and devour you.

Each bite I take bounds me to your underworld.
Here I suffer.
Here I am alone.
… but here I have you.
So devour me.

For I would rather suffer with you
in an endless netherworld
Than to be quenched by another.
Where the stars turn to rust,
I hit it right
and it made me wild with thought
that before we know where we are
It will be Spring
and She will enter

I did not enjoy seeing you the other day
and I wear your necklace as a reminder
of sweet things and of your seduction
my heart regards me, steadfastly
with tiny, bright eyes, and
ultimately retreats rejoicing
in the strength of ten thousand archers
golden arrows fly
so numerous they blot out the sun

Stange shadows come alive and
when shall I play for you the music of the
April rain?
Jay M Oct 2021
Goddess of spring
Queen of the underworld
Bringer of death
And life anew
Bringer of light
Powerful and knowing

Darling maiden to ancient Queen
Truest display of duality
All that one can be
Magnificent in all she is
Of divine wonder
Mortals, how they marvel
At her strength and might
And her astounding grace
Upon the mortal world

Goddess of delicate care
Blessed is the fertility she bring
To a world when birds sing
Flowers to bloom, blossom
Into the beauty of spring
Bringer of plenty
Venerable one
Whom many hold high
The Great Goddess
Divine maiden

Hand in the land of the mortal
And the other far below
Decisions made, legends abound
Over sky, seas, and eager ground
Carrier of fertile seeds
To grow and for the world to know
Of her power and wonder
Thousands know her name
The Goddess Persephone

- Jay M
October 5th, 2021
Decided to write a poem about the ancient Greek Goddess, Persephone. She is the Greek goddess of spring, fertility, and the Queen of the underworld, wife of Hades.
RyanMJenkins Aug 2021
This is me now, coming forth from the clouds.  Recharging in silence, fully-powered I follow sounds.  Taking on a new form - had to once I outgrew the space allowed.  I've truly bloomed since my heart was locked in the dark and hostile underground.
Hades once hated me but never tried to vanquish me.  He tried to force nightmares on his subjects that I would replace with sweet dreams.  His ears would steam from not understanding.  I found the key, and my heart was released. I broke free and floated away with Persephone, happily.  Be wary of intentions behind the pomegranate seeds.  Listen to your heart, that beat lead me to where I needed to be.  True story.
Happy Eleven11
dorian green Jul 2021
full moon, nervous edge, sweat beads,
my lungs are bruised and beaten,
and my heart is made of bone.
why, pomegranates bleed,
sigh and remain uneaten,
calcify or rot alone.

i saw persephone cry
and all the angels alight,
stark and sad in burning flame.
a soft weeping right nearby,
holy fires of the night,
and i swear i heard my name.

possession requires a host,
but i couldn't catch my breath
stumbling through the graveyard.
i don't believe in ghosts,
but the awesome fear of death
caught me lonely and off guard.

i will try to describe it:
in the face of this feeling,
your guts are on the table,
your insides exposed, moonlit,
mine were cold and revealing,
dead, skeletal, and mangled.
rk Mar 2021
as surely as winter
loosens it's icy grip
with one last kiss
upon my throat,
i know spring
will soon return
to gently hold me
in her warm embrace
as the earth
calls me back home.
- after the darkness you will find hope again.
Simran Modhera Mar 2021
Our love was crafted from heavenly bodies.
Tow trucks, skyscrapers, and chicken farms separated us.
But destiny, fate, and god came together
And gave these three damsels a gift.
Wrapped in blonde bows,
And dry throaty laughs.
We are one of the greatest platonic affairs.

All of us were given to Hades from our mothers;
Their tears fell on the maps they gave us.

As the gods weep, we laugh
At how we found each other in the mess that surrounds us.
All has aligned.
Nothing is perfect.
But nothing truly beautiful
Was born from perfection.
We are our sweaty foreheads,
Large appetites,
Thirst for a knowing,
And a hunger for a longing.
We are a connection
Conceived from something holy and numinous.
This poem was heavily influenced by the poem ‘Platonic Affair” by Orion Carloto, one of my favorite modern poets. Throughout these past few months I was very concerned with the idea of love and how other people showed their love to me. This poem was written to me, from me about the love that lives within my own home. This poem is about my absolute best friends, and how they show me consistent love and friendship regardless of the circumstances that pull us apart (pandemic, family matters, college ending, etc). I’ve looked so far and wide to find a fulfilling love, but one of the greatest love stories was right in front of me.
The cracks form on the surface
as I stomp my weight in anger.

You push back screaming
for the silence to engulf you.

And I knew I did not deserve you
I always knew.

Your skin now lined
with obsidian fissures.

I try to seal you in gold
but even I know.

The best thing I can give you
all I can do is leave.

fray narte Dec 2020
I remember the days when
a broken glass was just a broken glass,
a poem was just a poem,
a wrist was just a wrist  —
and not a headstone for
sunlights, melting;
flowers, wilting;
mirrors, breaking.

Now, it shows half summer smiles,
half dead and sunken cheeks —
an oddity that is Persephone, unhinged
and descending into darkness
and maybe one day,
I'll feel the haunted murmurs beneath my feet
and not in my head —
not in the poems
I cannot write again,
Now, the mirror shows
my aching — it shows my waiting
for death to show up at the doorstep
as though it was an estranged husband
finally coming home.

Slip your grief into Demeter's hands —
lithe. Graceful, and drenched in sunlight.

I remember back when this was an abduction
and not a quiet, slow dance with death.

Slip your sighs, carefully now,
into Demeter's forsaken hands —

I remember how breaths
ended in mine.

// "Maybe Persephone chased her death."
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