Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
#aeneas
Kidnaped love due to ravenous lust Brings a thriving city to soot and dust Villagers armed ready with sword to ****** Defending till their doom due to mistrust Survivors now trapped in wanderlust Till one rises and gains all trust Follow! Follow! Follow you must Till Rome is found and armor rust
0
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 7:37 PM UTC
Aeneas
How thin must Cassius be For Caesar to not trust? He had good reason not to for A dagger he did ****** But intentions unbeknownst to he Just eyes a gossamer frame. With an ambitious hunger To keep crown from being proclaimed.    For in the Tiber Caesar did flounder As if he were the archaic Anchises. A yelp for help for Gaius Cassius To save him from this crisis. And he as Aeneas,their great ancestor Lifted that mortal Julius upon his shoulder. Waded through the angry flood And dropped him down like a boulder. How could you not trust A man that saved your life? Doing something so careless Maybe deserves the ambitious knife. Et tu, plebeian?
0
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 2:11 PM UTC
Gaius Cassius
did you, even now, hope to shut your eyes to so huge a crime, my treacherous one, to think you could stilly withdraw from my kingdom? did our love not once hold you? our ardent vows? or even I, Dido, preparing to succumb barbaric death? how could you, callous you!, take wing to prepare your fleet in winter —i’m sure to run aground— when Boreas thrashes against the heavens? but, if you weren’t pursuing unfamiliar soil or incited to father a distant nation, if ancient Ilium sturdily grimed through the war, would you keep piercing the wave-washed oceans in your armada? why do you elude me; is it because i have acceded irreality? am i worthless, now?—i implore you! by these tears, and your troth, by our wedding vows, and this oath before ***** we began: if i deserve anything good from you, or if you think, i was good enough for you; pity this household decaying before us! it was once yours, too. and if my prayers are still yours, gut them from my mind! for now the Libyans and Numidians hate me! dear Tyre is virulent! as my honour and once-righteous stature has vanished, just as i was about to touch my constellated infamy. for what destiny, my foreign one, do you set me aside; ever-knowing my imminent death? seeing that only your name endures from this union, why do i bother to keep living? am i waiting for my brother, Pygmalion, to destroy my Carthage’s walls, or a Gætulian Iarbus to make me his concubine? if only you gave me a son, a little Æneas to play in my courts, a boy to remind me of you; only then, perhaps, would i not be so utterly violated, and consumed.
0
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
quis fallere possit amantem?
did you, even now, hope to shut your eyes to so huge a crime, my treacherous one, to think you could stilly withdraw from my kingdom? did our love not once hold you? our ardent vows? or even I, Dido, preparing to succumb barbaric death? how could you, callous you!, take wing to prepare your fleet in winter —i’m sure to run aground— when Boreas thrashes against the heavens? but, if you weren’t pursuing unfamiliar soil or incited to father a distant nation, if ancient Ilium sturdily grimed through the war, would you keep piercing the wave-washed oceans in your armada? why do you elude me; is it because i have acceded irreality? am i worthless, now?—i implore you! by these tears, and your troth, by our wedding vows, and this oath before ***** we began: if i deserve anything good from you, or if you think, i was good enough for you; pity this household decaying before us! it was once yours, too. and if my prayers are still yours, gut them from my mind! for now the Libyans and Numidians hate me! dear Tyre is virulent! as my honour and once-righteous stature has vanished, just as i was about to touch my constellated infamy. for what destiny, my foreign one, do you set me aside; ever-knowing my imminent death? seeing that only your name endures from this union, why do i bother to keep living? am i waiting for my brother, Pygmalion, to destroy my Carthage’s walls, or a Gætulian Iarbus to make me his concubine? if only you gave me a son, a little Æneas to play in my courts, a boy to remind me of you; only then, perhaps, would i not be so utterly violated, and consumed.
Continue reading...
48