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#achilles
I've never been one to rhyme, An Achilles tendon persistent over time. Chains that bind my hands, Leaving my poems devistatingly bland. It may ail me for life, I may give up, after years of strife. Someone told me free verse was harder, I loved them too much to barter. You see, rhyming is a skill I lack, I take every syllable as a personal attack. Failure is hard, unbearable, But not trying is a shackle, unwearable.
0
4d ago
May 31, 2026 at 2:55 AM UTC
Not A Rhymer
I used to hate the grey And everything it stood for. The cold The waves The friendships I outgrew. I used to hide in my closet, So I wouldn’t have to see it. Six years later I do not know love But I imagine the wind around me Sounds something similar to what Achilles heard When Patroclus said they were gods. Now I live for the grey Like I live as the grey; The cold settled in my bones, The waves leak from my eyes, The friends I learned to love, And now I find comfort in the grey.
0
Feb 15
Feb 15, 2026 at 9:26 PM UTC
The Grey (I Do Not Know Love)
You are on a very long list of those who can’t though they persist. Learn the lesson of Achilles heel: there's something that doesn't want you here. You hold tightly the images of misguided faith, role models and illusory joy. But graven images topple as slow as dry rot and Pandora quietly fills your box of toys. Your house is projected and frozen in time. Twenty layers of wallpaper are peeling your mind. Rooms untouched like 100-year-old Mason jar preserves. You can't eat fruit kept for so many years. Your choice of worlds kept the patterns; no new beginnings mean the same old ends. You may not break all the rules, but you sure make them bend. Grace seemed to touch you as you walked a mile or two seemingly content. But no matter how amazing the grace was, you can't be where you never went. As long as scapegoats hang on crosses all along this highway like rows of pigs hanging bloodless at the slaughterhouse, and as long as Western religious pop culture icons and other social images replace what is real, the roadblocks and washouts will continue to keep you there. Achilles protected everything but his heel.
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Jun 26, 2025
Jun 26, 2025 at 8:57 PM UTC
Seeking Without for What Can Only Be Found Within (Achilles Heel)
I could stare at the sun if I was promised I'd see your face. I'd go blind searching for the bridge of your nose, the crease of your eyelids, the curve of your lips. In the visual silence I'd forever see you. A promise held true. Even in blindness, I'd still see you.
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Mar 6, 2025
Mar 6, 2025 at 12:22 PM UTC
You are My Sight
My beloved partner; The hero of them all. My beloved partner; The greatest warrior of our time. My beloved partner; The prettiest of them all. My beloved partner; The devoted lover of mine. My beloved partner; A selfish man in disguise. My beloved partner; who doesn’t care who lives or dies. My beloved partner; A man with dignity. My beloved partner; Who let my blood soak in his hands. My beloved partner; A man with nothing left but himself. My beloved partner; Who can’t conquer his destiny.
0
Feb 28, 2025
Feb 28, 2025 at 11:20 AM UTC
Dignity
just like the ocean kiss the shore. I want you. all of you all the time in my dreams in my breaths in my skin and bones in my blood I desire for us to be the great Patroclus and Achilles. just like how the Achilles calls Patroclus "PHILTATOS" and how the Patroclus knows Achilles in "DEATH." I shall know you at the end of the world.     What I desire between us is their love to one another.   cause I am not ready to let you go yet. but just like Patroclus I shall long for you in the after world.
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Dec 3, 2023
Dec 3, 2023 at 2:34 AM UTC
Bound in Devotion
There, she lies on the altar Almost held the sun she— almost in her hands Opened up, a rose-bud chaste petal by petal by blood, with a sting, so sweet and sweet, as sunset reborn a bee; she was gold and silver and black at once. Almost held the sun she— and no wax wings used Oh, Icarus, love you did a wild sky, — yourself a light-licked doom   as your father cried, Your father cried for you. A veil as simple sour starlight she wore as wings of wasps as beetles she giggled Icarus, flew that you —and with tongue-tied elation too Icarus, she rambled on for hours long. A letter she held in spring kissed hands —I will wed you to the sun, her father had sworn. The sun—and a sun he was, child of the sea, some sword in honey dipped; now her awaiting. And blushed she did herself a dawn The altar, on the altar. Almost held the sun she— Swallowed a mayhem for the father's sin. Icarus, tell me of the plummet. Tell me of the greens you saw, of blues, of whites, of the whirling world— Men go around around her their soles all ready to crush lost skulls an empty moor. Twirling, the dust, like may have her hair before the wedding day Strands and strands, gently styled— Spears, swords, rubbed to mirrors, to lakes lifeless Armors and ships laden with life, with sails, the fluttering doves; As the winds dance once more— as harbors vacated, as waves torn apart for the horde, as move they on— on too the sun— as She still lies. Icarus, Icarus, was it the ocean that cupped its palms, or did the soil cave in as down into dark's slick throat you slid? Surely, was soft, the sea's well-loved mouth, Surely soft or true She lies on the altar a trinket glossy on a hoof, a ****** in the bell, how does one say— the valley of lilies, she grew it inside. Spilled out on the stones, they are fed to the flies. Almost held the sun she— Icarus, must you know You did not sleep a wretched silence within the womb of war. No crescent blades you drank down a leaking throat— She lies on the altar, vanquished for moon — for metal upon bone for blood, for blood, for blood. A father’s green promise— Seasoned to rust before the king Icarus, on the altar she lies— a ripened land far, far away lures her king to another rosy worship. Icarus, Icarus, on the altar
0
Aug 3, 2021
Aug 3, 2021 at 7:45 AM UTC
Iphigenia
There, she lies on the altar Almost held the sun she— almost in her hands Opened up, a rose-bud chaste petal by petal by blood, with a sting, so sweet and sweet, as sunset reborn a bee; she was gold and silver and black at once. Almost held the sun she— and no wax wings used Oh, Icarus, love you did a wild sky, — yourself a light-licked doom   as your father cried, Your father cried for you. A veil as simple sour starlight she wore as wings of wasps as beetles she giggled Icarus, flew that you —and with tongue-tied elation too Icarus, she rambled on for hours long. A letter she held in spring kissed hands —I will wed you to the sun, her father had sworn. The sun—and a sun he was, child of the sea, some sword in honey dipped; now her awaiting. And blushed she did herself a dawn The altar, on the altar. Almost held the sun she— Swallowed a mayhem for the father's sin. Icarus, tell me of the plummet. Tell me of the greens you saw, of blues, of whites, of the whirling world— Men go around around her their soles all ready to crush lost skulls an empty moor. Twirling, the dust, like may have her hair before the wedding day Strands and strands, gently styled— Spears, swords, rubbed to mirrors, to lakes lifeless Armors and ships laden with life, with sails, the fluttering doves; As the winds dance once more— as harbors vacated, as waves torn apart for the horde, as move they on— on too the sun— as She still lies. Icarus, Icarus, was it the ocean that cupped its palms, or did the soil cave in as down into dark's slick throat you slid? Surely, was soft, the sea's well-loved mouth, Surely soft or true She lies on the altar a trinket glossy on a hoof, a ****** in the bell, how does one say— the valley of lilies, she grew it inside. Spilled out on the stones, they are fed to the flies. Almost held the sun she— Icarus, must you know You did not sleep a wretched silence within the womb of war. No crescent blades you drank down a leaking throat— She lies on the altar, vanquished for moon — for metal upon bone for blood, for blood, for blood. A father’s green promise— Seasoned to rust before the king Icarus, on the altar she lies— a ripened land far, far away lures her king to another rosy worship. Icarus, Icarus, on the altar
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72
I never learn, I never learn Keep mourning your ashes in the golden urn You were the dawning sun opened wide A purity I slaughtered for the god inside I never fade, vague as fog, I never fade Into the scarlet waters, I wade Dusk weeps and deserted I wait Wait, I wait, O timeless Patroclus, I wait A thousand ships, all united, set sail To free their heavenly queen and her veil A thousand ships I could’ve let burn Into the wretched battle had you not run Rambles, rambles on this silent sea Your extinguished heart will hear not a plea You took all the humans in me along This bleak divinity, worth not a single song Never not do I hope, never not I hope, I hope, in this despaired hope I rot You lurk a painful past in my unseeing gaze As rows upon rows of men I raze In the halls of living, I search for your name Your love-licked body I surrendered to my flame I hear your starlit lips yell at me to stay Achilles, Achilles, live, you ****** sun, they say All my charismatic promises I forget This wish, sweet moon, you shall not get I tear then my heart in search of you A river red as doom, and a stillness blue I am here, Patroclus, now spare me this lone My frenzied ghost screams soundless on Our ashes kiss and kiss in the golden urn I never learn, alas, I never learn
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Jul 9, 2021
Jul 9, 2021 at 3:39 PM UTC
Sweet moon
"dying is easy" they said looking over at achilles standing over patrolcus' burning shroud, tears in his rage filled eyes. "to live in this world- now that is harder." they said turning their eyes away as achilles piercing scream rang out.
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Apr 21, 2021
Apr 21, 2021 at 5:14 PM UTC
Untitled
i long for a love that will break me, eat me whole and spit me out aching. i want to love as achilles loved patroclus, with a burning in my heart and a madness that would tear even the fates apart.
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Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 5:43 PM UTC
golden urns
i think i've realized the ballads of your virtues do not do you justice. details of your murders twisted to be heroic. i pride myself in remembering things no one else knows like how sweetly you sung the softness of your cheek the way your laugh bubbled up inside, infectious. i am glad to have those memories for myself call me selfish but you were always my achilles -love, patroclus
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Mar 9, 2021
Mar 9, 2021 at 11:00 PM UTC
for achilles
Your heart must pump honey throughout your body You are sweet You stick to everyone you meet. It shines throughout the golden locks That fall gently from your head Passed the nape of your neck. You are everything bright And everything beautiful. As if the sun came down To gently touch you at birth. You are the light in everyone’s life.
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Mar 6, 2021
Mar 6, 2021 at 12:26 PM UTC
Gold Rush
i felt this sorrow once before      when your name spelled patroclus and mine achilles
0
Dec 27, 2020
Dec 27, 2020 at 1:34 AM UTC
déjà vu
Oh, Achilles, Achilles, How they sing of your anger. The merciless, unforgiving anger Of which you felt at the loss of your Patroclus. Why is there no melody of your melancholy? The crushing weight, heavy on your chest, The undesirable yearning to continue this life Without your better half. Oh, Achilles, Achilles, Will you sing to me About your agony? Will you sing to me of how you sent The one you adored the most Into battle, baring your armor? Oh, Achilles, Achilles, Will you sing of how it made him Into someone he did not know? And as he went to you in a dream And told you his last desire, Did you know? Oh, Achilles, How he loved you.
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Dec 23, 2020
Dec 23, 2020 at 12:24 AM UTC
Oh, Achilles
The sweat streaming down my eye brow Looking at the arrow in my ankle that was shot by Paris' bow Oh my briseis, please don't cry My shield and spear are always yours as i point it at the sky Zeus, you have blessed me with immortality but oh i am cursed All my life i've been killing men for another's thirst Finally my chains have been broken, i can breathe This cold feels nice, my sword at last in it's sheath
0
Nov 6, 2020
Nov 6, 2020 at 4:00 AM UTC
Argonaut
body like a Hoplite, raised from the dust to lay the land- sent armed ashen spear and heart, trunks of armour clad legs growing into the clay coloured Earth rooted. these lyre-heartstrings taut with longing. to see a browbeaten Myrmidon, in daylight. watch, as the breath of Zeus escapes Grecian chests, concave with muscle Olympus itself exists within those crevices. i lay offerings, ambrosia soaked spoken word at the under-flesh of your calf laying beside myself in hope the whispers bestowed to you from the Fates on the eve of Troy mean less with your lips, pressed to wine, against mine.
0
Oct 25, 2020
Oct 25, 2020 at 4:29 PM UTC
Grecian (Patroclus' lost words: I)
did You dream of the war when We were young?
 when the war was a far away nightmare days were peaceful and no song was unsung and doom was coming, with Us unaware You were doomed to fight and be a Hero and I, was a mere follower of You yet You love me like there's no tomorrow our love were something no one could undo the Fates said no Hero could be happy Gods and Goddesses were also unjust so You defied them, tried so hard to be as lovers and soldiers, We would attest home was somewhere in our warmth and our eyes alas war was cruel, it's gone as I died
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Oct 22, 2020
Oct 22, 2020 at 8:56 AM UTC
Lovers Die Young
I stand just beside you unseen in your frame How much ever I try anew People identify me with your name. We both have the same talent but I'm ranked with the boors. You are a famous gallant As victory is always yours We are still together Smile, laugh and enjoy But Deep inside I wither Like Achilles in the war of troy
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Aug 26, 2020
Aug 26, 2020 at 1:11 PM UTC
SHADE
I want to bottle that feeling warm August air dappled green sunlight pushing into your arms feeling that steady heartbeat of life heavy on my chest I loved it all every second swathed in a drunken haze the way you held me in the dirt let me kiss your brittle bones showed me all the scars whispered every secret I'd drink it if I could that world-bending elixir of anything, everything rapturous murmurings and quiet moments we floated in backs to the water with worlds swimming below I want you, you all of you emerald eyes gentle smile wanderer of the heart touch me in my darkest places let me know I'm yours no matter the distance yours, yours always yours
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Aug 17, 2020
Aug 17, 2020 at 9:20 AM UTC
Achilles Heel
fierce and benevolent these eyes of gold warm and shattering against the light of sunkissed skin on marble floors he's sweet as figs and sharp as a sword and his heels pink and unmarred by the heat of the sun when our bodies touch for the first time two souls intertwine sewn together by threads of fate i feel nothing other than him and his gentle gaze and soft hair but dawn comes around during the pouring of blood from our cupped hands onto tainted sheets of dishonour and rage and when i breathe my last breath he roars, like a lion loud enough for the gods to hear and does not stop until his face hits the earth with a smile.
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Aug 1, 2020
Aug 1, 2020 at 9:52 AM UTC
achilles
He fought for honor with Achilles Two brothers in arms against the world of treachery and deceit No one saw the tender gazes that the two shared in their last goodbye A final brush of their hands as they shake with an uncertain future Patroclus knew he would die Dressed in his lovers armour At the hands of his lovers enemy And in his death he'd bare his heart with one final grand gesture He'd gladly exchange his life For his beloved Achilles
0
Jan 13, 2020
Jan 13, 2020 at 8:07 PM UTC
Patroclus; honored friend
we are milliseconds away from mortality, you and i, your impending doom hanging over like suspense and the ghost of your touch lingers longer than zeus, hurts harder than your voice the day is yet to break and the time is a hair’s breadth between now and forever, when the sun strikes you down i will fall with you but for now, let us lie like gods in this space we call home; wrists against wrists and teeth sinking into skins
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Apr 22, 2020
Apr 22, 2020 at 6:03 PM UTC
an ode to the boy i love
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
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Mar 13, 2020
Mar 13, 2020 at 8:09 AM UTC
Lost in Ílion or The Shades of Troja
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
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47
i understand the Greeks When they wrote of boys turning to men as “in the flush of their strength”. as if the tides of youth, had burst it’s banks flooding childhood, like the Mycenae against Troy.
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Jul 8, 2019
Jul 8, 2019 at 7:49 AM UTC
The sands of time flow through bones of children