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Moon on the water
Mirror to the goddess light
Sweet pearl of the night
@LadyRavenhill 2019
Haiku #85
first glance
beast out of the darkness
frozen in time
majestic seahorse
carrying Aphrodite
grace rising effortlessly
abysses grip released with ease
wielding her magic over moon goddess
while she imagines the first eclipse
illuminated ring circling
shades of darkness
dominating the sky
goddess Selene rests her motion
etching love in eyes
through lasting heartbeats
reflecting the rings
true brilliance
setting the sky on fire
one in the sameness
A Jan 7
Lifeblood (Poem 1)

They called me the sun. I used to rain my light down upon them like it was my lifeblood, torn from my veins and arteries for them, for them, for them. They took it and hid it away, my blood, using it for their own gain. Some might have screamed Praise the sun! but for naught, as their brethren took and took and took and I was left a withering husk of my former glory, no longer golden, clouds on my once-fair brow. There was no glory in dying alone, without a battlefield or comrades. And for what? They complained, complained, pushing their hate towards me, for it was too dry, too hot, too much, too much, too much. How would I know? They wished for me on rainy days, hated me on the sunny. I was never balanced, I was always giving and taking too much.

To A Moonlit Dream I Can't Recall (Poem 2)

I dreamt in slow waves, shining so bright that the dark was chased away from the fair sheep I tended. My brother was off with his own, dusty with his own exhaustion when the day broke over and bled into the night. He was never much for talking, but when I spied on him, hidden in dark groves, he was alight, fiery with his own happiness and pride, until the sheep began to complain and the clouds crept in to watch. Wolves, were they, but I paid them no mind, for my sheep ran where they could not follow, to gossamer hills filled with hopes they could never express elsewhere. When my fingers ran in ribbons through their wool, the fair strands separating and splitting, dewdrops on a window pane, I sheared them, weaving tapestries of what they created within the confines of themselves.  

When my brother came wandering in one day, his arms ****** with his own life, splashing golden on the tiles, I could do nothing. We were our own shepherds, we could not take each other's flock. The day could not replace the night, as I could not replace my brother. I could do nothing to assist him, could not ease his pain. He would have to continue bloodletting, to give his sheep his blood until he was drained. My teardrops were on the fire until the night spread in thick tendrils on the floor.
These are a pair of prose poems I wrote for a prompt on Write the World. As I like darker takes on mythological characters, the two here are Helios and Selene, the Sun and Moon in Greek mythology.
Diego Morales Jun 2017
To Selene:
Rare a night, her gentle grace is not seen;
Live long torches, shamed, by her beauty’s gleam!
The Queen of night, my heart, she reigns supreme.
Floating high in deep, black lakes of my dreams,
Softly she gazes down past thick and thin;
Distant is her love as we skin to skin;
Fooled, my fervent stretch is never within,
Her affection for me, I’ll never win.
My heart, her misfortune can only reap
This last choice—wound us both more than my weep!
For her sympathy, my eternal sleep!
Now like me, may her woe forever keep.
By day miss her and dream of her by noon
Forever, rest in heart, my dear honey, moon
The sad love between Endymion and Selene
Sets the stage for this sonnet like poem's scene
Established landmarks removed test the fates
Burning wind in a vacant sky
Rearranged cosmic hemispheres of mind
Oracle of day not seen with ***** eye

The need for warmth a thing of the past
Frigid waters the basis of newfangled cell
Tortured derelicts kept from spiritual vision
Oracle of night hangs in days empty shell

Dubious means to generate a sun of artificial light
But a fling cannot replace a love that is shunned
Yet warm rays of sunlight still flow above the temporal
Still hanging in defiance of the 60 cycle hum

Regain your bearings oh heart of Pure Light
Everything in its place: oracle of day and oracle of night.

                             --Daniel Irwin Tucker
Galatea Georgiou Dec 2016
The light came in from the window
Forming stripes on the sheets
The night is long
No, that wasn't the Sun rising up
It was the beautiful Selene setting
July's full moon above the city
A city foreign to me
A city i love and hate
A city i am going to leave soon
It was like she was saying goodbye
To a weary soul
I am going home after a long time
Or am i?
I'm not quite sure yet
These days i feel lost
I guess it's my summertime sadness
As i lay there motionless
Selene slowly disappears
And soon the Sun will take her place
I will still be there laying
While planets move
While time moves
While life moves
peaseblossoms Mar 2016
i. leimakid

i am bound by love
to the glistening ghosts
of the trembling leaves. beneath
my skin, a fragile bud
of hope

makes a
weak nest
for itself
of broken branches,
of dappled moss,
of fear

feebly beating
its downy wings: and only once
per hour now
does envy
make my heart
sk    ip a b eat

ii. pasiphaë

i study how the hourglass
stretches out across her back;
i watch her switch of slendered calves
illuminate her brindled halves.

i know her storming scorn still
scorches me -
she's cold and haughty,
sun-dripped, tau(gh)t and free.

the sheen of ichor glosses
dimly the flicker of her
holy marrow -
i see the throb of her
achilles aching to
snap from her skin -
she's a delicate
doe, so sleek, so
thin -

iii. selene**

felt my world shift
with the swift grip
of your square jaw,
locked and rounded
in the broad paw
of your palm. and
now i know

there are breaths
better kept

we watch
a death,
a shocker
of a dream,
and spin it
several shades
of subtle green. and
now i know

that your paths
are duly

i left the scent
of your hierarchy
tucked neatly
in the forest
of my hair,
and now when the wind
roars through it
i feel
at home again. and
now i know

that the thick of
the fright i've been feeling
is hollowed.

there is such beauty
in the way soft words
leap from your tongue
like birds,
in the colored click
of bright spring glass
in your fingers
as serenity wreathes
through the veins
of the perseas,

in the sunshine
of your voice,
in the splash of light
that floods
through the open

in the knowing shapes
of our half-smiles
as the golden lights
crunch to dust
below your hands.
The archaic Mythologies
Were well depicted ventures of Human
Spirit to verily present acts of the absolute Nutness
An astute of a compelling question Still
Much relevant in today's lmplicit
Deconstruction of  Committing
A moral Excession.

Old Greeks came to a betwixt paradox when compairing
the two ulterior motives:  
~ a completely mad passionate love
~ a sharp cold blooded oportunistic love

— The End —