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Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Ibykos Fragment 286, circa 564 BCE
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Come spring, the grand
apple trees stand
watered by a gushing river
where the maidens’ uncut flowers shiver
and the blossoming grape vine swells
in the gathering shadows.

Unfortunately
for me
Eros never rests
but like a Thracian tempest
ablaze with lightning
emanates from Aphrodite;
the results are frightening—
black,
bleak,
astonishing,
violently jolting me from my soles
to my soul.

Keywords/Tags: Ibykos, fragment, translation, Eros, Aphrodite, Thracian, tempest, lightning, jolt, soul, spring, apple, trees, river, flowers, grape, vine, shadows



Preposterous Eros
by Michael R. Burch

“Preposterous Eros” – Patricia Falanga

Preposterous Eros shot me in
the buttocks, with a Devilish grin,
spent all my money in a rush
then left my heart effete pink mush.
Ayn Jan 2020
Moonlight drizzles upon my lawn,
Tinting the grass with its
quicksilver luminescence.

The scattered clouds,
Drifting rapidly overhead in the
Almost nonexistent wind
Beckon in a tempest,
Shearing away the calm tension
That once roamed my yard.
Looking at the sky and yard from my deck looked pretty cool.
nick armbrister Mar 2019
Angel Juice
They fueled my warplane with 130 grade octane
It was bright green and full of spells
It was witchcraft just like flight
Making my plane soar like a rocket
So I could shoot down **** jets
Defeat their Me-309 escort fighters
Beating them by pure ******* speed
Then nail the ***** jet with my cannon
Blowing his ******* head off with 20mm
Me the aerial knight in his chariot
An airborne God in a Hawker Tempest
The best fighter plane of the war
Superior to all that was German
Be it Focke Wulf 190 D versions
Or their upgraded Me-109 K series
Or the 309s and anything else
I was equal to their vaunted jets
Like the He-162 Salamander
Or fast Me-262 which was ace
I was God...
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2019
(Sonnet)

Our tryst was sore, more like pain or penance,
What kerfuffles in our unspoken for eyes
And love grew low, by unanswered questions.
How could we laugh, live in such indifference,

Long, unmerciful time, grinding us down
With not even limitless skies for leaven?
Each day was comic-tragedy, no Eden,
Lives flooded about, simple pleasures drowned.

Yet, each day we dreamed with harnessed wings
Bound together in the throngs, restless journey,
A promise was made on some green gentle isle
And we made our golden shifts such shining things,

Running to rays, future dawns never to come,
Shining things falling mute in dry rots of sun.
.
Irina BBota Jan 2019
I left my thoughts on the pillow
and started waltzing on the carpet barefoot
just to see that wicked smile of yours
while the cloud's throwing out its soot,
making alliances with the purple storm,
unwelcoming the beauty of the darkness
the one between the stars,
keeping us in the fortress of unfulfilled dreams,
leaving us all behind stainless steel made bars.

I left my thoughts on the pillow,
the bedroom sins remain in the night,
your kiss has left all my senses in turmoil,
for I was and I am a very old soul inside.
Charmed and crowned by Madame Tempest,
looking for a bone of guilt,
expecting the unexpected at a wedding's breakfast,
a brilliant book of menace she has built.

I left my last thoughts on the pillow,
and then I left the other dark half of mine
that annihilated this restlessness from my soul.
Now I can shout out loud: I'm alive!
Nikos Kyriazis Nov 2018
May Death befall
upon thee
and be slaughtered
by the blade of thy pen

The aftermath
of the poet's resurrection
will be an allusion
to those who never
believed in art

The Tempest
shalt come early
and by wolf's jaws
the artist
shalt rescue the light
A poem to all of us, the artists
AD Letwixt Oct 2018
Ere those despairing months have come to pass
And befall my pensive condition
With tempests that hide a southerly sun in undulating expression

I examine my place here
Mind swaying like blades of grass

With neither voice nor sound of breath
I consider the evanescent present.
TheMystiqueTrail Sep 2018
Darkness dredges deep into the soul,
tempest gouges out my stillness in manic vengeance,
lightning in fiery wrath
rips up the mind’s horizon.
Thunderous sky roars in scaring rage.
Panicked,
stars went hiding
in the pall of gloomy clouds.

My soul too blackens out,
O Shepherd,
where are you this night?
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