#nymph
Akriti,
ad infiniti,
without an ending
just forevermore
many happy days
your poems
to your music
please score
Apr 30
Apr 30, 2026 at 3:56 AM UTC
I look down from blue skies on high.
Birds fly,
And sing.
Clouds make their rounds.
Shifting shapes,
Take the form of peace,
Content with itself.
The wind whooshes and whirls my hair.
I smile at its gentle caress,
Happy to receive an old friend.
Together we surf the heavens,
Bid our greetings
And farewells,
To the Gods above.
Feeling safe and protected.
Arching across the firmament,
I become separated from the wind.
Frantic,
I search the sky for any sign
Of my wayward friend.
I ask of the birds:
"Do you yet glide upon the breeze?"
"No," said they,
"We must flap and flap
Just to stay a flight."
Worried,
I look down at the clouds;
Still moving,
Shapes still.
...
And dark.
So... Dark.
Lights flashed within.
A terrible boom sounded,
Causing me to loose focus on my peace,
Leaving me to fall downward,
Ever downward towards the raging storm.
Panicked, I yell to the Gods in the heavens:
"Please, I have lost the wind,
And without it,
I am left to plummet!"
I was scared.
Would the Gods save me?
Would the wind?
My prayers unanswered,
I plunged into the abyss.
My hairs stood on end
As electricity arced.
The sound of thunder,
Deafened my ears,
Leaving a hollow ringing,
Screaming,
Thinking it's the end I begin
To sing:
"Above the clouds I knew peace,
Tranquility,
The love of friends,
And songs of birds.
I was free to smile,
And happy with my lot,
High above the human rot;
But now I fall.
The Gods too cruel.
The wind is gone;
And storms duel.
If this is the end,
Then perhaps I will rise again."
As the last lyric left my lips,
I broke through the clouds,
Fighting off hail and sleet,
As I spun out of control.
Rain began to soak me,
Leaving me shriveled
And wrinkled,
As if I'd aged a century.
I can see the earth now;
My sweet mother,
Who had nurtured me,
And taught me to soar.
She too was also sodden.
Rivers flooded the ground.
Trees were being torn from their footing.
Lightning struck repeatedly.
A blinding cacophony,
That left dark scars on her skin.
Humans ran where'd they could.
Some climbed mountains,
Other dug into her flesh.
Parasitic cowards,
Unwilling to face their fate.
Their greed and avarice
Were what led me to the skies,
All that time ago,
When I cried to the great mother:
"They take and take and take,
Yet never do they give to you.
Once they worshiped you
With offerings of laurel
And incense.
Now they insist upon stealing your life."
Warmly, she brushed away my tears,
Saying:
"My dear nymph,
They know not what they do.
Just like you,
They too are searching for peace.
Though, they are not a part of me;
They do not pray to the Gods.
They do not dance with the trees.
They do not sing with the birds.
They do not blow with the breeze.
Much like lightning,
They are static,
And ever racing.
Life is a competition they feel they must win,
Regardless of the cost."
As the memory faded,
So too did that feeling of falling.
Looking around,
I saw light that was bright,
Instead of dark.
Clouds parted to shine brilliant rays,
Pristine,
A rainbow curved over a mountain top,
And birds sailed once more in leisure.
Looking down,
I see that I'm floating
Just inches from the ground.
Then feel just the slightest cool kiss
Brush across my cheek:
"My friend! You've returned!
And not a moment too soon!
For if you had been just a single second later,
I would have reunited with the mother,
Six feet under."
A new smile bloomed on my lips,
Relieved to be alive,
Yet also sad to see the state of Gaia;
Flooded and scarred.
She was unrecognizable.
I whispered to the wind:
"Set me down dear breeze,
For I must commune with the forest,
And help heal the damage
Caused by murderous men."
Unexpectedly, the wind lifted me up,
But not towards the heavens.
No,
The wind raced me to the nearest mountain;
Rainbow still curved over,
Where the humans huddled
In their ragged masses.
Stricken, I fought against the wind,
Wanting only to fall again:
"Those men and those women,
Threw me away so long ago.
They made me feel such pain and sorrow
As they hewed my forest
To satisfy their insatiable hunger,
Forgetting those days of peace,
Where nymphs helped lost humans,
And humans composed beautiful poems
About nymphs.
... And their great mother."
The wind did not listen,
Setting me down in the center of the pestilence.
I cowered,
Wondering why my friend
Would act so cruel?
The humans around me shied away.
Some yelled "demon".
Others "fiend".
I cried then,
Feeling other than,
And yelled at them:
"Stay away you barbaric heathens,
I will not let you cut me again!
Nor witness you harm my mother!"
Then, I felt the wind...
It nudged me towards a crying child.
She wasn't much taller than myself.
I felt... empathy for it.
Together we cried tears of fear,
And sorrow;
Both victims of life's losses.
Mine, in the past.
Hers, in the present.
Sobbing, I asked her:
"Why do you cry young one?"
She wailed:
"I lost my mommy!"
My tears redoubled as I said:
"I too have lost my mother,
But it is not the same.
You see, dear child,
I have been watching my mother die
For far longer than you have lived,
Or will live.
So do not cry.
Instead, go offer some incense and laurel
To the spirit of Gaia;
Pray to the Gods.
Dance with trees.
Sing with birds.
Blow in the breeze.
Find peace in nature as your people once did,
And compose a poem for me,
To read in Elysium.
...
If you do this,
A mother you will find.
I know, because I asked the Pythia,
Long ago,
In a different time."
May 9, 2024
May 9, 2024 at 10:27 PM UTC
I met a friendly woman at the college,
She sat in the entrance gallery west of the labs.
I said, "Hello, may I know your identity," with a smile,
And her lips spread to a mile.
She said, "Hello, I'm here on my job,"
Little did I know that blowing was her job.
Anyway, I started telling her about myself,
And as a loner with an infrequent *****
I respect and I know myself a lot.
When she sat in rapt attention for me,
Listening to my breath between the words,
And my gaze often slid down her face.
There they sat elegantly and imposingly,
Two cute babies, a picture of them, actually,
In a picture printed on the ***** of her shirt,
And I asked about them curiously.
She said, "They are my nephew and niece,"
"Both are twins and each weighs 7 kilograms,"
And looked for validation, "Aren't they both so nice?"
I nodded in agreement saying, "Definitely,"
And I continued, "I want to play with them both."
She said, "I know that you fell in love with them,"
Now she continued with another broad smile,
"You are welcome to play with both of them,"
I asked, "Are they with you?"
She laughed shortly and said,
"They always remain with me."
Puzzled, I said, "What?"
My jaw remained hung open in astonishment.
She put her finger under my chin,
Then shut my mouth to say,
"Don't act like an innocent kid,"
And she continued,
"I like you, and I want you,
Come in the morning,
We'll have a lot of fun,
And I'll blow my favourite toy,
Before both of us go for a movie."
May 9, 2024
May 9, 2024 at 7:45 AM UTC
Rolling out from blue lotus
off the sky
nymphs in tangerine bright
all colours
tuck into disappearing
rainbow slides.
Ah, fragrance
of the broad daylight
a day in summery August
is still heady
weaving blue butterflies!
Aug 14, 2022
Aug 14, 2022 at 5:34 AM UTC
She is
the water
immersing the shore
a
motion moving entities
into
the
shadows of the lore
sirens call on rising tides
men of flesh flock
in
waves
falling as they fly
dwelling
eternal
within her mystical whiles.
Jun 22, 2022
Jun 22, 2022 at 1:53 PM UTC
Walk along the riverbed.
You will come upon a nymph,
Aged and smooth
As a riverstone
Sighing and singing with
The water’s flow
Ask her, “How are you, Nymph?”
And she will
Smile
Up at you and say
“I am but a tired soul
In a tired sea
Of tired souls.”
Her voice the soft bubbling of the river.
Walk among the trees.
You will come upon a dryad,
Ridged and furrowed
As the tree limb
Upon which she sat as she watched
The leaves fall with the autumn breeze
Ask her, “How long have you sat here, Dryad?”
And she will
Gaze
Down at you and say
“I grow and grow old
With the tree.
And the tree has grown tired.”
Her voice the raspy crinkle of the fallen leaves.
Walk amidst the flowers.
You will come upon a deva,
Light and sweet
As the honeysuckle she sat amongst
Watching and humming with
The many bees
Ask her, “Who are you, Deva?”
And she will
Frown
Away from you and say
“We, those of us that
Belong
To this place,
We are Afraid.
And we wish to no longer be Afraid.”
Her voice the wavering stems of delicate flowers.
The nymph chokes on her sisters' remains as
the dryad is cut down and shredded and the deva is
forced into restrained clay pots.
They cannot be freed by one
but by the response
of all.
Feb 17, 2021
Feb 17, 2021 at 8:46 PM UTC
i wanna be a fairy girl
with see through wings
so thin and frail
that glitter and flutter
jingling like a bell
humming bird girl
small sweet sounds
drink the nectar
from the flowers
nymph in the woods, deer girl
tree girl, mermaid
with magic in my veins
i wanna be a goddess girl
bow down
the sea licking at my feet
i wanna be.
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 7:22 AM UTC
*
*Heart breaks with a beat
For she pines for this hero
Loathed to give him up*
*
Sep 1, 2020
Sep 1, 2020 at 8:35 AM UTC
*
*She who give what's due
Broken echos reach her ears
Pool entraps his gaze*
*
Jul 1, 2020
Jul 1, 2020 at 4:07 AM UTC
White mares skipping high
Fleeting bows of flight
A delicate sway and tender—
Of nymph water bearers.
Grip to the pole— start bending your toes
Gritty witty Pointes— slide sailing your stockings
Don't be weary— you all weigh like babies.
When everyone curves below,—
I might cry low
The tug of veins,— Twisting my equity
All for a share of artistry—
That shakes dynamic scaling
How can I fly with this?
A flock of gnasgabs— Forming on the floor
Say, I was bewildered—
By such floating nerves
I suppose, my anchors would stumble!
Muscles shifted miniscules to humongous
I learned the arc's way
How swans scoop to ponds,— and paddle
To split stems without abraded rock scrapes
The pricked would never ill still again— For the element of wind,—is a frolicking mentor of mine.
What shape is imposed?
Is to be trained to sketch enough?—
Or to smother crust on feet?
A little pinch on my nose—
They told me— "Be toned, and not be a cylinder, or you'll be getting misfits."
If groom is to groan,— Then unwinding is not an option.
Stale eyelids, protrude lips;—
With undetermined purple ankles
Presenting, the queue of peacocks—
Crafted by coned imagery!
"Smile darlings, smile.."
"Grant them a magical show!"
A single blow, I think I would fall,—
Or a slip— Brought by fragility
A collapsed bud of covert slim blossoming
What sot titles be lurking—
On this lumpy staging?
I see the curtains closing..
Raggle-taggle pearls, no—
Just piercing prisms
Attach with vessel tubes— providing life
Rates and beats,— I am awake—
While their pupils start bowing—
In a forum with wheezing closed fists
I cannot nod for this; so too, I replied
—"Let brittle vases be a harbinger for naive pottery makers."
"Spin and spin around— Oh stop, I'm not a music box!
I love dancing,— but don't treat me like a doll!"
I escaped, from dry flower fields
Now, I am a deviant— of their snotter lying— of absolute bloom
A standard of fixed chains and keys
No more attending to an epithet of perfection,— For I will be the motion of my own tides and breeze.
I battle to Ballet,— For 'tis as knight with armored strength— of fenced rivals 'til to bleed
I risk for Ballet,— Like cliff dancing, even on edges— I am steady,—
And tough to dive in lakes and oceans
I fall for Ballet,— How Alice fall to the Wonderland— discovering mysteries in every dooorway
I compose to Ballet,— As I dwell in the well of written poems and tunes,—
I inherit to move..
The wishful dandelions,—
Sprawling with honeybees and butterflies,— of me running with ribbons in Spring time
I feel my hair is brushing,—
As I blew these dandelions,— Sending letters to other gardens—
"Dark, Bright, Tiny, or Huge— Anyone can wear a Tulle,— Come and fly, as we're all free and beautiful like dandelions.."
May 14, 2020
May 14, 2020 at 3:29 AM UTC
the mouse started off like any ordinary mouse
annoying, small, and persistent.
the nymph tried to take good care of him, and he was treasured to her.
the mouse came limping back to her, after his daily battle with the world
she nursed him back to health
as the nymph cared more for the little mouse, she spurted out pellets of blood and flowers
the mouse tried to stop her
but it was too late.
Apr 13, 2020
Apr 13, 2020 at 2:11 AM UTC
The nymph steals glances from behind the glass
Bright blue, sharpened stare
Between bushes, amidst the grass
Fingers so nimble, they slipped through the cracks
Slid down the molding,
Dyed the carpet, stained the cat
Her smirk lived within speckles of paint
The hush of the floorboards
Breath that made the fruit a sickening sweet
But only in afterimages do I see her face
A late night mirage
In the bathroom, in the closet, in the eggs
In the sticky, wiry ink in which she'd signed her name
Her ghostly whispers calling out
From behind trickles of rain
A permanent spot in the recess of the window frame
Did she lay, nuzzled close
Silently, to wonder, watch and wait
A forever presence even the wind cannot displace
Only one day had she entered
But a thousand she'll stay
Mar 22, 2020
Mar 22, 2020 at 10:13 PM UTC
Graceful as a bird on the wing
Opening its beak to sing;
Slender hands dancing to and fro,
Weaving gossamer threads of snow;
Eyes piercing as shards of ice,
Quick to name fate’s price;
Lips as dainty as a flower bud,
Red as the color of fresh blood;
Ears with slightly pointed tips,
Soft as velvet, yet sharp as whips;
A tiny little button nose,
Slender as the petals of a rose;
Hair as golden as a ray of sun,
Shining when the day is done;
I saw her amongst the golden trees,
But deaf ears fell upon my pleas,
And on fleeting feet she fled,
Back to her mossy forest bed.
Feb 24, 2020
Feb 24, 2020 at 6:36 PM UTC
There is something so calming
About the spiders spinning web.
Something so comforting,
A song sung by the dead.
Hear it wallow in the distance
Like an unforgiven tune.
Sung by the rivers daughter,
The beauteous sunset muse.
Bask in the moonlit waters
Barely but blessed by shining sun.
Hold to your heavn'ly quarters,
The likes of which shall come undone.
For if you catch the spider spindle
You are likely to be safe.
In other wares, their finer fares
In absence, stay awake.
I speak not for the Titan,
Or God nor Goddess alike.
I speak not for the tongue
Of the mumbling friars might.
For Alas my hearers hear this plea,
Beware the nymph of sophistry
May 20, 2019
May 20, 2019 at 10:41 AM UTC
Kick me for feeling too smug over this pretty number which happened to write itself.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXVII)
O! how I yearn to wander through the tale
Of naked woods likeas a nymph from hence!
As if I am the sister of, fr'intents,
The trees whose boughs like arms reach up, t'avail
Me of the light is't? or that sense of pale
Keen longing to just breathe, non listning thence
Unto the softest whispers passing whence
We canna say twixt all the leaves, t'exhale.
I want to search for violets, like they'd stir
Now that rain's melted half the snow anew,
Whiles lo, winds toss the firs whose voice as twere
Sounds hoarsely in this fragile warmth's debut.
Yes, I can feel it in my bones--that pure
Note of sweet life which calls buds as it'd woo.
13Mar19a
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 10:43 PM UTC
silhouette remnants
flash of nova
goddess so super
seed of life
energy unfolding
all directions
brilliance cast
reflecting
kindness
true warmth of benevolence
nymphs rise
abysses grip released
luminescent fireflies
dancing with blithesome delight
pensive and observant
full moon
calling all into play
sun hiding
only witness
dark side of the moon lit
showing
under a solar eclipse
universe lines up
Aphrodite
quasars reflection
soul of goddesses
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 12:25 PM UTC
ideas
thoughts
imagining
perception of beauty
fluttering wings abound
nymphs in the sky
reflection
nymphs in the abyss
goddess training grounds
dancing photons
brilliance unfolding
imagination
critical ingredient
without
what would you see
smeared paint
splattered
palette knife magic
flowing and dripping
imperfections
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 10:52 AM UTC
.
Kalypso sports within the waves
luring sailors to watery graves
but if they make it to her isle
there they may tarry for a while.
Food and wine are given a'plenty,
they are rocked into lust so gently,
Nymph, Maidens, Bacchanalian revelry
lead the sailors into darkest devilry.
*** and sin are openly displayed,
a salacious procession, ***** parade,
And all men their vices expressed
seek the comfort of Kalypso's breast,
her hospitality soothes, allays their fears
as she slowly steals away their years.
© Pagan Paul (05/12/18)
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 6:58 AM UTC