Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Tommy Randell Oct 2020
I knew when I met you I had been hacked
Infected with Love in that first contact

Or maybe a coding of you had been there always
A twist in my sequence just waiting on the day

Anyway, you were in - all the doors were open
You are totally indelible like some perpetual notion

Do I still have free will in my daily choices?
Which Logic is yours among my inner voices?

If I go to the right, is that me or you doing it?
Am I Lover, or the Loved, or just misconstruing it?

Somewhere in me in some primitive way
Are you the Presence in my inner domain?

Are you the Shaker and Mover of Mind..
Or the dream-like echo of Thought ill-defined?

Does a Poet know, can any logic compel for sure,
The Truth he tells is for certain 'de jure'?

Am I still True to the person I was
When, with every word, Loving you is the cost?
Hammad Oct 2020
No matter
how well
we confine
our hearts
in a fortress,
surround it
with formidable walls,
and have no remorse
- The Love will breach all
like a Trojan Horse...
Sharon Talbot Mar 2020
Lost on the plains of ancient  Ílion,
Treading the windswept soil and stone,
I sense the ghosts of warriors and horsemen,
Of dark-eyed women and jealous kings.
Their history scattered, burned and ruined,
Pressed by time and scavenging hordes,
Yet restored to life in song and verse.
When poets and imagining hearts were stirred
To find heroes among brutal soldiers
And reasons for violence masked as greed.

Shades of blue lost to time reappear.
In their winding brains goddesses walked,
Holding an aegis made that bore a Gorgon’s face
Or gods who guided arrows and chose the dead.
Bards ever kept alive the rival gods
Before whom King Priam bowed and Achilles defiled.

Across the grape-blood waters of the Hellespont,
Aphrodite savored her own victory and watched
As Paris still kept the women she had given him.
Love was not among her calculations
Nor those of Zeus when he forbade hindrance
By the gods, who yet battled among themselves.

As mortal enemies fought the coming of allies.
For ten years, ships and horses swarmed to aid
The unbowed city, even Memnon and Penthesilia,
Both slain by the sword for reasons then forgot,
So their sacrifices failed to dent a lust for blood.

Yet armies tired and war ended, as all wars do,
Through fatigue or fire or the scattering of slaves.
Now time has whitened the ruins and sands
And Boreas sweeps away the shards of stain
That dyed the cities’ walls and columns.

The scarlet buried below Herculaneum is gone,
And saffron gowns on dancing virgins,
All the horses’ indigo manes and hyakinthos
Sandals of Achilles, whose mother dyed them
Before he sailed, forgetting his Stygian bath.

He was clad in red to hide his blood,
So when wounded, his men would not cower.
Yet one arrow alone took his life; how telling
That more valiant men lost theirs closer to the soul!

Gone are the sheep, red-fleeced with madder
And argamon robes of brides and Cybele’s priests.
No sacrificial lambs or holy men walk here now,
On the bone white land and relics of a kingdom,
Yet the north wind, the lone god, continues to wail.

March 5, 2020
A salute to the Trojans, who fought such violent foes, the Achaeans (known to the West as Greeks), and the importance of their various colors, especially blue, purple and red, between what we see there now and what once was. I wanted to give what I viewed as a possible perspective from the Trojans.
Megan Parson Feb 2019
Once there was a file,
The file was used in a program.
Unfortunately, could never smile,
Digitally stuck in rolling RAM.

Wanting a life beyond the lab,
To be called more than just a tab.
Instead AMAZING, cool & fab,
Being able to dance & dab.

Tired of being cut, copied and pasted,
Duplicated, locked and wasted.
So s/he married a trojan,
And eloped, far from that dungeon.

To party with android & PUBG,
Feasting on apples & candy.

Living life in blissful entirety!
Bonjour my fellow poets & poetesses, i know its been long but my exams are finally over  *dab*  I wrote this poem in my computer lab, with the first 2 lines left behind by some kind soul. Love, Megan.
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Chryseis, the plague
Agamemnon's lust returned
Slave traded for rage
Just realized I messed this up, originally I had the last line as Briseis traded for rage that would make this 5-7-7 so I had to fix it.
Araoluwa Jacob Apr 2018
Lately, I don't understand.
I don't understand how,
How I can't control the water that rolls down my eyes like a waterfall.
It's meant to flow when I'm sad,
It's meant to assist me when I'm sober.
It does the opposite,
It makes me feel no remorse.
It makes me feel powerful.
Sometimes, I question it,
"Why have thee forsaken me when I need thee?"
it still does not reply.
I feel powerless over it.
it has more control.
One day, I stayed in the darkness.
my eyes were closed.
I was trying to blind myself from reality.
I was trying to create a world full of my own fantasies.
But it didn't work out well.
Tears crept in from behind,
they woke me up.
I was so close to escaping but they brought me back.
I tried to hold them in but they came faster than I ever imagined.
They sneaked in through a Trojan horse.
An unforeseen enemy.
They made me feel vulnerable.
I didn't need them but they came.
I'm sure they laughed because of the victory,
I cried because of my pain.
at a period in time, i could not control my tears. and whenever i felt remorse, they was no tears to express it.
Äŧül Jan 2018
No, I don't understand her...
Who was Helen of Troy...
Who exactly Helen was...
Or what was Troy...
An ancient Greek city...
Was Helen a citizen of that city?
Or maybe she was not...

They also mention Troy to be a Hero...
A Hero from Greece...
Was Helen of Troy a bacteria then!?!
Did she live inside Troy's bowels!?!
So unique!
They fought over a bacteria!
Killed so many for a bacteria then!
My HP Poem #1696
©Atul Kaushal
Shouting for longevity,
Slamming at the counterers…
- upon your dignified respite!
Would-be detractors without brevity,
Before the wine-dark Sea at night…
A pleading to philosophy of commonly renowned,
Beating sand and posturing, uncouth before a crown;

“Priam please!”

Sun and Moon,
two sons shall plead,
nay, -beg in tandem with the man;

“He serves the seas, trust him please, our father; this priest of Trojan-land!”

Laocoon

“Fear the Greeks, of mind I speak, approval by a van-i-ty; it surely is a death you seek!

An asp this horse, gift no more and tragedy in due remorse,

I beg of you my call to heed, wooden-burnt this crispy steed,

…alight in flame, glorified name; Poseidon shall endorse!”

Priests of Apollo

“Ridiculous! Worship we must, now bring it to the City thus!”

Laocoon

“The actions of accursed Kore,

Need I remind you all Paris caused this war?

For he mocked this god, the abyss it knows, with terror comes a deadly tide,

**** that fool and his fiddling pride!

Burn this beast we must with haste for Greeks they have a certain taste,

Their acts meant always to confound, wily, since they were unbound.

What harm may do, to rest at shore? Consult the stars of yester-yore.

Assign no chore, one heaven’s night, plus a day, to sit upon our princely shore?”


Setting
(read/spoken at the fastest pace the reader can go)

A horrid hiss above the wave as two doth slither from out the cave…

  The creatures from the darkest days, ancient spectacle for the knaves, bear witness to the punishment, commanded by a great trident, hearing screams of bannermen, for King and council a shocking twist, serpents ****** from out the mists, encircling priest and his kin, the howling they had done no sin, never be forgot-ten, as Typhon cried out merrily, serpents and the tragic sea; swallowed up all the three.

Priam

“Farewell dear Laocoon and two sons with thee!”
The name. "Laocoon," translates to, "Peoples knowledge," or "Knowledge of the peoples." This is a retelling of a section of the Iliad.
Miss Clofullia Feb 2016
Making all the small mistakes,
we move on, from one gig to another,
with our head up-high,
and our ear glued to the railroad track.
We walk backwards, surrounded by defective traffic signals
and multi-toned car horns – an impersonal Trojan toy horse,
with too much space inside our frameless carcass
to be filled by an empty soul.
kelia Dec 2014
you sat across from me, our eyes drawing blanks
i offered you a beer and you said no thanks
we sang songs about making love
and how *** is fun, if you’re drunk enough
i apologized for kissing like a trojan, three hundred in one night
and you on the third date, when lips felt right
then we drove a hundred miles down to south santa fe
passed the gas station where my last lover lay
his stomach left a stain on the sidewalk
i loved him once and now we don’t even talk
you tried to grab the clutch but instead touched my knee
blushing, you sat like cancer beside me
you grew at an alarming rate
wiped your lip and chewed on lace
fingers drew hearts on your foggy window
you promised if i left that you’d never let me go
i swore i wouldn’t fall, so i laid on the floor
hudson eyes stared at the picture hanging above your door
you asked to catch the bends inside of me
sink and drown, *** is fun if you just promise to leave

— The End —