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Miles Feb 24
i am reluctant
to face this ocean’s mass
i fear the waves of the past will devour me
if i pursue this seaside quarrel

nevertheless i persist
i must endure this passing tide
watching it rise and fall
the current washes over me

i succeed through it’s finale
after shock of Poseidon’s wrath i remain
the aftermath is serene
a sense of calm exists within me

i have survived this weaponless battle
i have attained this sense of victory
Prompt: Include as many of the following words (or variations on these words) as you can: reluctant, ocean’s, quarrel, serene, victory Also; Refer to a classical deity
Ιδού, φωτός
Γαια εναντίον του ἐγώ
Αλλά δεν είδα τίποτα
Ήμουν μαζί σου στα όνειρά μου
Μπορώ να αφήσω τη γη
Για να μην υποφέρουμε πλέον
Ή θα με βρει ο Άδης
Και τιμωρήστε με
Για αυτή τη λίστα
Αυτή η εξαπάτηση
Άφησα να τρέξουν περισσότερα δάκρυα
Τότε ο ωκεανός του Ποσειδώνα
Άφησα περισσότερο ροή αίματος
Τότε η αστραπή του Δία
Γαία, σταματήστε να με αγαπάτε
Και ο Άδης, με πάρτε μακριά
Σώστε μου από αυτή την κόλαση
Ο τάρταρος είναι λιγότερο κακός
Και τιμωρήστε με
Σκότωσέ με
Poetry in greek, because I can.
Athena Feb 16
I drown
and glimpse Poseidon's kingdom
I fall
and I am lifted by the winds of Anemoi
My heart looks into
medusa eyes
And I run freely about the lair of Eris
I clutch the moon
in the wake of Hecate
as the war is waged against
Selene's solar bounty
Lethe guides my hand into ignorance
Ponos holds my head high
in the face of my deepest fear
Theia bares Eos to me
and I offer the reddest rose
for she is the light
that lets Helios reign
Kyra Nov 2018
I think the ocean was the true lurer to death

And sirens were just the women who followed the oceans song

And embraced Poseidon’s crushing love

a precipice
of Werner
whereas pitch
was dire
of his
slot save
primeval isn't
wood and
whether his
blocks haven't
exclaimed that
he's solemn
or the
tundra is
still frozen
crystals and
ice house
A. Gottlob Werner  was a Neptunist
Salsa Sep 2018
Half a decade in
that was all I needed,
all the time it took to see
the world was an insult to me.

Was I cursed at birth
to live on the brink of death?
Trapped in this trance until
Poseidon's realm pulls me to its depths.

My pursuits to meet him have gone astray.
Countless trials that end one way:
under bright lights,
in a hospital gown,
tubes, tests, nurses pinning me down,
and a hundred voices asking me why
Why oh why did I want to die?
Well I was muting the agony,
executing my destiny,
see daylight please, it's meant to be.
You can't stop me.

And Plath said it best
I do it well,
my scars could attest.

Perhaps I'm not as strong
as everyone once thought
The echoes whisper
“You never did belong”
Neither here nor there or anywhere.

I fear I'm nature's mistake.
For the hands of fate, I must partake
in this sacrifice
to begin my demise.
This shouldn't come as a surprise.

I was only five.
I thought I could survive.
It's been a while. Some of my thoughts haven't changed.
Charlie Dog Jul 2018
Billows of wind
frame her outline
like silken drapes

Locks of scarlet
dance and tangle
under the broad brim
of her navy sunhat

Palm extended merily
grasping to the rails
she leans over the salty water
waving her fair-wells

O' this image of delight
i pray the sea be gentle
let her not know of the
fierce bite of bitter waves
or of poseidon's lustful greed
Jade Jun 2018
The eye of the universe

bats its lashes at a

a single sliver of splintered light

blinking boastfully in the opaqueness–

a crescent m☽☽n is birthed,

carved by the Huntswoman’s

      ➳silver tipped arrows➳

on the night I–

a demi-goddess-

am born.

And this Hunstwomen,

my heavenly mother,

my celestial nurturer,


plants antlers atop my

hairless skull in the hopes that I,

her daughter,

will grow wild

as the deer Her Greatness

has vowed to protect;

as the cypress whose limbs

swell with greenery;

as the moon who must wax

as surely as it must wane;

as Artemis herself,

whom they call

“Lady of Wild Things.”

And I too

am a Wild Thing,

for I am a women

of extremity.

How can I not be,

when I come from a long line

of deities,

whose veins palpitate

with the very atoms of chaos?

How else am to explain the fire

the seethes inside of my soul?

A fire kindled by Zeus,

the Lord of the Sky,

the God of all Gods.

Lightning bolts play hopscotch

across my collarbone,

crack against my ribcage

like Poprocks crack against tongue.

Some days,

these flames enable

the crusade of my passions,

accelerating me onwards,

like the wheels of

pegasus drawn chariot.

But there is such as thing

as being too passionate,

for with great passion comes

great emotion,

and with great emotion comes

the capacity for great heartbreak.

I love with the catastrophic magnitude

of a category five hurricane;

it ’s no wonder any other mortal man

is capable of reciprocating my musings,

for there is no emulating this storm,

there is no matching the desires

of Aphrodite’s offspring.

And you should see my heart

when it’s broken–

the way it snaps so eloquently

like the neck of a swan,

how it metamorphosizes,

scorching itself

to a point of  αγνώριστος



In the pit of my

cracked palms,

I hold the charred










of my heart–

kaleidoscopic shards

jagged enough to draw blood.

When the palpitating ache

in my chest proves to be unbearable,

I sprint to the riverside,

well aware that it is the closest

I will be able to get to the ocean

on such short notice.

I take off my socks and

my worn down Doc Martens

and wade into the water.

Entranced by its

refreshingly cruel coldness,

I baptize myself in its

precarious currents and beg

Poisedon to extinguish the fire in me.

He douses me in his spirit

in an attempt to console the embers

that lick at my heels.

But this attempt proves

to be unsuccessful;

for there is no way of curing

the daughter of Olympus.

Fire and water merge,

imposing on to my being

a molten existence.

I    l~i~q~u~e~f~y.

Tendrils of lava crawl

up my oesophagus,

sear the impression

of a laurel atop my head,

burn so violently,

they turn purple.

“Dear Gods,”

I plead

“Take away this body,

this mind,

this soul–”


a lyrical voice

echoes back to me.

“You must not forsake yourself

like this, ”

she declares.

“The mark of the Parthenon,

of I,

your third mother,


dwells among your fingertips–

There is







in your bones,

an emblem of my wisdom,

of Apollo’s bestowal of enlightenment.

And so you,

my demi-goddess,

must carry on the legacy

of your ancestors through

your wildness

your extremity

your chaos–

your poetry.

For you were made

in the image of the Gods.”
Nis Jun 2018
Two seven three,
Molecules set free.
Heat coming,
Sun shining,
More than it ever has before.
And it shall shine more,
And it shall get worse,
And the rise of Poseidon shall **** many.

Oxigen roaming free.
Your sunflower rots,
The world keeps spinning,
But the caps get thinner.
And the shall thin more,
And it shall get worse,
And the rise of Poseidon shall **** many.

Take out your lenses,
**** the ant,
**** the man,
**** the snow,
**** the world.
And you shall **** more,
And it shall get worse,
And the rise of Poseidon shall **** many.

Arange your umbrella,
Cover the sun.
Grow tropical plants
Wherever you want,
**** indiginous plants
Whenever you can.
Save the pandas
Not the bees,
Whatever you say.
All shall rearange into place
All shall die or live more
And the rise of Poseidon shall **** many.
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