"cassandra" poems
there is hope
like a rising sun
on a distance horizon
lighting up the morning sky
pushing the darkness aside
melting the clouds away
the rays warm my face
coaxing a smile
squinting my eyes
i take a breath, savoring being alive
the sky is blueing deeper, clearer
morning haze is lifting, disappearing
life is awakening, stirring, moving
the beauty is overwhelming, awe inspiring
i see anew, with an indigo eye
things i’d sensed but never knew
i feel too deep, intuit too much
beheld as a curse, repressed, suppressed
i burned, screamed, fell into ashes
my soul lay fallow, quiet, healing, waiting
resurrecting from cold dark depths
heart beating, eyes opening, arms reaching
vindication from self doubt
forgive me Cassandra, Cairn, Mother
i weep, openly, proudly, for your grace
it is the 9th and final gift
Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 2:26 PM UTC
My dearest Frank, I wish you joy
Of Mary's safety with a Boy,
Whose birth has given little pain
Compared with that of Mary Jane —
May he a growing Blessing prove,
And well deserve his Parents' Love! —
Endow'd with Art's and Nature's Good,
Thy Name possessing with thy Blood,
In him, in all his ways, may we
Another Francis WIlliam see! —
Thy infant days may he inherit,
They warmth, nay insolence of spirit; —
We would not with one foult dispense
To weaken the resemblance.
May he revive thy Nursery sin,
Peeping as daringly within,
His curley Locks but just descried,
With 'Bet, my be not come to bide.' —
Fearless of danger, braving pain,
And threaten'd very oft in vain,
Still may one Terror daunt his Soul,
One needful engine of Controul
Be found in this sublime array,
A neigbouring Donkey's aweful Bray.
So may his equal faults as Child,
Produce Maturity as mild!
His saucy words and fiery ways
In early Childhood's pettish days,
In Manhood, shew his Father's mind
Like him, considerate and Kind;
All Gentleness to those around,
And anger only not to wound.
Then like his Father too, he must,
To his own former struggles just,
Feel his Deserts with honest Glow,
And all his self-improvement know.
A native fault may thus give birth
To the best blessing, conscious Worth.
As for ourselves we're very well;
As unaffected prose will tell.
Cassandra's pen will paint our state,
The many comforts that await
Our Chawton home, how much we find
Already in it, to our mind;
And how convinced, that when complete
It will all other Houses beat
The ever have been made or mended,
With rooms concise, or rooms distended.
You'll find us very snug next year,
Perhaps with Charles and ***** near,
For now it often does delight us
To fancy them just over-right us.
5.3k
Shannon, Mariah, Serena, Maria
Meridia, Midian, Sharon, Alliah
Rochelle, Camille, Rose, Halo
Trenna, Jessica, Ashley, Georgia
Marla, Olivia, Sofia, India
Daniella, Diana, Christina, Caroline
Isabella, Amelia, Amanda, Matilda
Nadine, Haley, Bailey, Francine
Eliza, Annabelle, Kathryn, Sandra
Melinda, Audrey, Aubrey, Emily
Tara, Emma, Ginny, Kathleen
Josephine, Helena, Charlotte, Laura
Chelsea, Arkady, Megan, Kelsey
Kayla, Karliah, Moana, Vivien
Kaysea, Macy, Stacy, Lorraine
Theresa, Felicia, Cecilia, Darlene
Holly, Brianna, Alexa, Ariel
Marianne, Miranda, Jennie, Coral
Korra, Daisy, Penelope, Rayne
Zoey, Cassandra, Grace, Stephanie
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 12:34 AM UTC
i will hold a gun to my throat myself,
yet somehow,
it is less violent
than the casual words of a god.
mad girls don't cry wolf;
they die. they disappear,
like cobwebs in a darkened corner.
in the shadows, watch me dangle
with a slip knot of fuchsias.
in the shadows,
watch me dig this body up,
until there is a layer of skin
and black lips and lithium quartz
and clichéd promises
you haven't touched.
after all, archaeology is
just an excuse
to look straight at my remains.
in the shadows,
let my skin cave in;
i will take everything down —
every misery, every deception,
every corruption, and every light.
i will ***** out the ******* sun
if it kills me,
leaves me cold as bygone walls.
yet somehow,
it is less violent
than to be loved by a god, until he doesn't.
to be loved by a god, but it isn't.
to be loved by a god: a euphemism, at best
to be loved by a god
is the curse.
May 15, 2021
May 15, 2021 at 2:04 AM UTC
O ***** king.
***** O ***** king,
what bitter thing is this?
what shaft, tearing my heart?
what scar, what light, what fire
searing my eye-balls and my eyes with flame?
nameless, O spoken name,
king, lord, speak blameless *****
Why do you blind my eyes?
why do you dart and pulse
till all the dark is home,
then find my soul
and ruthless draw it back?
scaling the scaleless,
opening the dark?
speak, nameless, power and might;
when will you leave me quite?
when will you break my wings
or leave them utterly free
to scale heaven endlessly?
A bitter, broken thing,
my heart, O ***** lord,
yet neither drought nor sword
baffles men quite,
why must they feign to fear
my ****** glance?
feigned utterly or real
why do they shrink?
my trance frightens them,
breaks the dance,
empties the market-place;
if I but pass they fall
back, frantically;
must always people mock?
unless they shrink and reel
as in the temple
at your uttered will.
O ***** king,
lord, greatest, power, might,
look for my face is dark,
burnt with your light,
your fire, O ***** lord;
is there none left
can equal me
in ecstasy, desire?
is there none left
can bear with me
the kiss of your white fire?
is there not one,
Phrygian or frenzied Greek,
poet, song-swept, or bard,
one meet to take from me
this bitter power of song,
one fit to speak, *****
your praises, lord?
May I not wed
as you have wed?
may it not break, beauty,
from out my hands, my head, my feet?
may Love not lie beside me
till his heat
burn me to ash?
may he not comfort me, then,
spent of all that fire and heat,
still, ashen-white and cool
as the wet laurels,
white, before your feet
step on the mountain-slope,
before your fiery hand
lift up the mantle
covering flower and land,
as a man lifts,
O ***** from his bride,
(cowering with woman eyes,) the veil?
O ***** lord, be kind.
2.9k
She waited my table at a dive joint
I noticed her first when I came in
Whatever my type of woman is
She was it
Not wearing any make up
She had nothing to hide
She grabbed me by the ear
She had me
She was either sculpted by
The Gods, or by Buonarroti
Or earth-shaking love making
There she was
I slowly drank in all her features
And stylish clothes she wore
Scanning her from her head down
I found it
Of the gems she was adorned with
The one that struck me most
Was one on her left hand
Ring finger
I didn't envy the man too much
In fact, I took it as a challenge
I could tell by her grin
She was wicked
Apr 12, 2020
Apr 12, 2020 at 5:36 AM UTC
It was rumors
An overzealous starlet
Her name Cassandra
Well-known to critics
Beyond a casting call
Conquering the boulevards
This flaming Diva
Her serpent attitude is her might
For I
Once bitten into poisonous passion
Repeatly stumbling
As her looks proclaim the likes of a darling Dove
Losing a battle that cannot be won
Her graphic representation for apparition
Appeals to men with greater value
Calamity is her weapon of choice
For days upon her roof
I've fallen
To a script
Only meant for fools
Nov 21, 2009
Nov 21, 2009 at 11:22 PM UTC
Cassandra, Cassandra, Cassandra.
How else can you write another name in its place?
To match your dark eyes and hair,
Your smile and the fancy dresses you wear,
How does one compare?
To the books you read,
To the music you play,
To the songs you sing,
To the stories you write,
The dances you dance,
And the light you shine on the world.
The answer is:
You can't.
Nothing could be better about you,
The Beautiful Cassandra
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 5:32 AM UTC
_As I lay here thinking of you
All my thoughts grey and blue
I wish I could see you, I wish I could.
Then maybe my life could be understood
But still I'm down thinking of you_
Eye for an eye
Heart for a heart.
Tooth for a tooth
Wondering in consistent circles
I am running and ripping myself apart.
I only want to be part of thoughts
That gave me peace to
live for my truths.
It's all in living color.
Yet, I feel grey and only see blue.
I have a reason to hold my head up
Although I am down in my
_feelings, thinking of how much
I am missing you._
Cassandra & Descovia
08/03/2022
Aug 3, 2022
Aug 3, 2022 at 2:13 PM UTC
The last time I saw you, you were standing there at the gate, watching me walk away
I was trying to look cool, like nostalgia in motion
That’s a difficult thing to pull off when you’re constantly looking back
You were smiling and waving, like it was all gonna be alright
I secretly hated you for that
Everything in my being screamed at me to turn around, to run back to you
I wanted to take your hand in mine and pull you out of there like Wayne did to Cassandra…
Only I didn’t
I did my duty
I turned around one last time at the end of the longest hallway in the world and stole one last look
Blinking back the burning sensation in my eyeballs and the tightness in my throat
And then I plodded on
Just like I was supposed to
I had a stabbing pain in my gut like things would never be the same again
Like the WE we were was dying and going away forever
At the time I dismissed that sharp unbearable thought as sentimental weakness
The sloshy musings of an admittedly overdramatic youth
Never would’ve guessed my gut knew so much more than my thirsty brain
With its linear logic and high powered deductive reasoning
I told myself we’d be together again soon
I told myself to focus on the task at hand, and you’d be the reward waiting for me at the end of it all
The bright white light at the end of my long dark tunnel
I told myself you’d be the sunshine on the other side of the mountain
Knowing somewhere deep down it wasn’t true
Knowing somewhere deep down, that the WE we were
Now existed only in my fondest memories
Only in the dark moments I would occasionally indulge on the cool side of my pillow
I turned around
And walked out of your life
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 12:50 PM UTC
The first time i saw you, your stare lingered beneath
My mind went blank, it's as if i was recovered from the river Lethe
Eros and Ananke took the longest time on fashioning you
Apollo would befriend you because in my mind, you are the greatest view
To gain your love, i am willing to carry the world like Atlas
If you ask me, i will suffer the pits of Tatarus and come back to be your lass
I wouldn't mind staying with you in the island of Calypso
To be with you, i would face Charybdis and jump inside her tornado
Everytime you smile, it's as if the gates of Olympus open just for me
Your face will launch a thousand ships and i won't mind bringing my army
If i have no chance, my grief would reach the river Cocytus
And my heart would wander in the labyrinth of Daedalus
In the most confusing maze, you are my Ariadne string
You are the melody of the three muses when they sing
To get to your love how i wish i could be the goddess, Aphrodite
And maybe you can be Odysseus and i will be Penelope
With my kind of desire for you, Artemis and her hunters would never approve
If i am not for you, i would persuade Aphrodite and deny Cupid's reprove
Like Zeus and his lightning bolt, i can never leave your side
Poseidon's angry seas would compare to my feelings which will take long to subside
For your honor, i will fight like Hector of Troy
But like the giant, Typhon, someone will always destroy
Like Paris and Helen, we were doomed from the start
You are Cassandra and I, Apollo so you will never give me your heart
I am not Aphrodite, not Hestia, Helen and Hera
You can compare me to Circe, The Fates or even Medusa
Not as important as Hercules, Odysseus and Achilles
I might as well have a tea party with Achlys
No ship will be launched for my sake
In the garden of Hesperides, i am ignored even by a snake
In Olympus, you feast with the twelve goddesses and gods
Together with Hephaestus who was shunned, i share his odds.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 2:30 AM UTC
touch me gently
let my veins turn to ichor
i am the fool and i have journeyed so far
just for justice to send me
back to my mother
she took me behind her curtain
stars in her hair
pomegranates at her feet
as the thundering chariot rushed by
you were at the reins
those sphinxes drove you to me
you let them derail themselves
in a flashy display of sparks and
circumstance
come to me no longer
ichor burnt me
it clogged up my heart
and when i am cut
people gather
with bowls to collect from the vein
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 9:05 PM UTC
God is a woman
She pulls off her headscarf
And stares down bullets
And lays bleeding and dead
God is a woman
And she is pregnant in Texas
With the child of her uncle
And she will scream when her body is ripped open
God is a woman
She wears a black eye
It has love written all over it
She was told it was a lesson
God is a woman
Crying over the Graves of her children
Clutching the earth as if it would swallow her
Dasies will grow where her tears land
God is a woman
Her skin is dark like rich soil
And she is cursed as Cassandra
Her words always falling on deaf ears
God is a woman
And she is burning
Her rivers and oceans are choking
Greed has poisoned Her
God is a woman
And you have ***** and murdered Her
You have turned your eyes and ears away
You only turn back with begging hands
God is a woman
And when you next bludgeon her with love
May she take your eyes from your head
And finally you will see that you have killed yourselves.
Oct 3, 2022
Oct 3, 2022 at 7:06 PM UTC
Do not listen
to my words
or
riotous prophecies
of a world on fire
I am
the son of Cassandra,
a shining bird
not to be believed
If I am to tell you that I
see the monsters of our
suppressed dreams
come to bathe us
in flame
Heed not a word
of it
For the gods have
declared me a liar
and I am not allowed
to tell the truth
Only to give short
flights of fancy
with which
you may entertain
yourself
If I am to tell you that I
see the worlds cities
in peace - Prepare for
the worst
For I am the son
of Cassandra,
a shining bird
not to be believed
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 5:16 PM UTC
i believe it
was not what
cassandra
SAID
that haunted
her most
it was
her
SILENCE
(c) soulsurvivor
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 11:34 AM UTC
It was just one of those days
when the haze of summer had just started to lull the suburbs
into a sticky heat
of grills and lawn mowers
of air conditioning
(everyone pretended not to use it; windows! barked the mothers, windows!)
and the sweat stuck to the brows
of the life guards
napping in the sun
above an empty pool
the Dawson pool.
No one ever swam there
and the lifeguards knew it
those teenagers, sunning themselves lazily on hot days like this
(and the mothers! They complained about the tans. Cancer! the said.
In a way they were right,
but really.)
The waters were clear but the fences were rusted
the diving boards were falling
throwing themselves off the deep end
Katydids
lawnmowers
those lazy days
and the mothers! the constant nagging of soccer moms
lulled around the pool
on the day
Cassandra
took her
last
swim
Her face was like shoe leather
tanned by no fewer than 98 summers spent on porch swings
plodded slowly,
like her feet were considering
every
last
step
this woman presented her 5 dollars to the girl at the gate
(some surprised lifeguard, because, you see, no one ever swam in Dawson pool)
and pushed inside.
Cassandra never left her porch.
and the mothers! how they scolded their children for teasing her
(even though they had done the same thing at that age.
That's how old Cassandra was).
Decades of the suburbs
and push mowers
and world wars
stayed like photograph around her face.
The lifeguards stared.
Cassandra kicked off her flip flops and shrugged off her mumu.
In a pink bathing suit she sank into the water.
The age melted off of her as she danced through the water
graceful
strong
the strokes were slow and deliberate
and the lifeguards watched as she pulled herself from one end of the pool to another and back.
She made 16 rings
remembering her childhood
23 more
for her marriage
and then 60
60 rings!
before she stopped.
60 years old, the year her husband died.
The year she had stopped talking
aside from the hushed prayers in church
but she was talking to him; that didn't count.
60 rings.
And Cassandra just disappeared.
No one found the body
no one found anything
aside from flip flops and a mumu.
The lifeguards were nearly scandalized
for letting Cassandra drown
but soon she went from a news story to a ghost
and the mothers! sniped at their children
for whispering
"Did you here about old Ms. Cassandra?
They say she found God."
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 7:03 PM UTC
you are my antithesis
virtue, to you,
means nothing
should it?
you hold all
you know
well above yourself
and say nothing in pity
I watch you
from below
taking the path
of Zarathustra
ridding myself
of pagan ideals
because if you
were ever to
speak the truth
like cassandra
you would not be believed
this is not the work of
divinity
this is random chance
and you still
laugh in my face
you are killing me
Sep 12, 2010
Sep 12, 2010 at 5:22 PM UTC
When you see her
walking down the street,
swaying those wide luscious hips,
you just know.
This girl
with her long cherry curls
and her icy blue eyes,
she’s the beauty and the beast all in one
sinfully delicious package.
This girl makes your heart
crash into your ribcage like a wrecking ball,
stopping you in your tracks
and stealing your breath away
like the succubus she knows she is.
This girl with full pink lips,
skin smooth as white marble,
and a stare that could paralyze and excite
all at the same time.
This girl promises beauty
but baby you’re gonna get
a lot more than you bargained for
if you try to cross this demoness.
This girl is your gorgeous nightmare,
horror wrapped up in a **** package
with a shiny red bow and stiletto heels.
With those curves in your hands,
thinking is out of the question.
There’s only passion, blind lust,
because if you let her go then
you seriously ****** up.
She’s everything you could ever want,
Begging and demanding
As she writhes underneath you and on top of you.
You never stood a chance.
This girl is a living breathing Greek goddess,
all *** and power and unimaginable beauty.
I cannot being to truly describe her,
Because as much as I hate to admit it,
She doesn’t exist.
She is mine,
my creation, my Eve.
Existing only in my fiction,
She is still very real to me.
She lives inside of me,
Breathing and speaking and loving and hating
And I just want to hold her close and keep her with me forever.
Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 1:10 PM UTC
will this love be pastoral
or gypsy
with abandon and fields and flowers?
dear heart
O dearest love
will it be Parisian
with wine and sophistication?
Will Hamlet and Juliet hold hands here
and Ophelia and Sybil and Cassandra sit in dark corners
watching and casting spells?
will this be Orpheus losing Eurydice
or the love of shepherds unheard of and un-noted in history
and loving with great lust and dying in old age and quiet…
I do not know, I do not know
for I have no power of prophecy.
Do you, sweetest love?
Perhaps you use the Book of I-Ching?
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 2:10 AM UTC
Beauty is a mold
You have stolen for yourself
No matter how I try I can't believe
You were all that mattered
All that matters to me now is to know you
And the sound of your name
Cassandra
A touch of innocence
In a guilty world
I fell in love this morning with another girl
Another name
A different time
It's all the same
A light that always shined for Cassandra
The angels never flew so free
Your eyes sparkled electricity
You dug into my heart and brought my vision back to life
Graceful as Isadora Duncan on a ride
Cassandra
There are no innocents
In a guiltless world
I'll fall in love tomorrow with another girl
Another name
Every time
I'll feel the same
The light that always shined for Cassandra
Apr 26, 2012
Apr 26, 2012 at 5:34 PM UTC
It was February 14, Valentines day
When I first saw her
Dressed in red
And her enchanting smile taking control of the room
She looked at me and smiled
And before even knew it
I was in love with her
My first love
She was sitting near the crystal clear glass
And the moonlight made her enchanting
I asked her whether I could have a seat beside her
She said "Why not?" and giggled.
I sat beside her
And was carried away in her beauty
She was like a god
Who was born to enchant people with her beauty
I was engrossed in her blue eyes
Which was deeper than any ocean
Her nose was so perfect
That even make Aphrodite jealous
Her glossed lips
Shimmered like diamonds
Making them precious
Priceless
Her snow white skin
And her blonde hair
Made her look as beautiful
As golden sunshine on a winter morning
Her hands were small and pretty
And it looked so dainty
With her painted nails
picturesque and perfect.
She asked"Dude where are you?"
I was a bit unprepared
She asked my name
I asked the same, and the reply was Cassandra Black.
Even her name was so beautiful
That even "Black" could not shun its beauty
I asked her out for the dance
She said Yes.
We danced and I was again engrossed in her
The alluring maiden
The captivator of my heart
And my first love
It was all going too perfect
I never wanted it to end
But all stories does not have a happy ending
And neither did mine
The door blurted open
And A man entered
Seeming rather angry
And unfortunately was Cassandra's father.
He came in
And dragged Cassandra out
And I never met Cassandra after that day
She had disappeared.
And my first love
Only lasted Valentines Day
And as people say
Valentines Day is a day of Happiness
And the day after is of sorrow
And that saying became true for me.............
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
Cassandra,
I see you in the words
of Greta Thunberg:
Filled with passion, warnings, truth.
Not believed.
Cassandra,
I see you in the dreams
of Calpurnia;
warning Caesar, bloodied earth
Not believed.
Cassandra,
I see you in the protections
of Tony Stark;
made with fear, love
Not believed.
Did they tell you to smile more?
Ask you why you’ve “gotten involved”?
Did they belittle your prophecy,
Ignore warning after warning?
Ignore you?
Mad woman, hysterical.
You, angered Apollo
Or
Was he always angry?
Did he believe himself so worthy
of your love that he cursed
not having it?
I don’t know.
You probably told someone
We know how that would have ended,
Cassandra,
I see you in the testimonies
of Christine Blasey Ford,
so hurt, pained, strong.
Not believed.
Were you told to sit quietly, mind your place?
When you were attacked was it your body
She defended
Or
Her own desiccated image?
Maybe you told the trees of
Ajex’s sins, because even if
the men listened,
A statue protected him from justice.
Cassandra,
I see you in the words
of impassioned protestors
so bright, so young.
Not believed.
Maybe if you told them lies
they'd believe the truth.
Maybe if you told the truth
they'd believe the lies.
Believe anything you said.
Darling Cassandra
possible bride of Apollo.
definite belonging of King Agamemnon.
Did his children believe you?
Are you a warning to women?
Love who you are told to.
Bow to authority or
Never give up.
Are you a criticism of men?
Demanding of love.
Expecting subservience.
Justice not served.
Cassandra,
I see you in myself,
the pain they caused
the light going out
I am not believed.
Cassandra,
Does it get better?
Have you received the peace you so deserve?
Or are you still
Not believed.
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 9:01 PM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
She is an anti-thesis to Maya Angelou’s conscience
She stretches Maya’s awareness beyond rudimentary perfection
She is a public commoner with her insatiable palatability,
She eats French fries and pork like a carnivorous queen
Her instinct cannot save her from curse of pinching,
She is tall and slander with all virtues of beauteous individuality
Which the sagacious Friedrich von Schiller saw in frivolous Cassandra,
She has tattooed nose and ornamented death, not white in taint of alcohol hue
Chains of jewellery around her neck and hands, sea corals as beads around her waist,
She loves rough men like Alexander Pushkin who died in Duel, and the militant Othello
Who only woos by using the vaginal ******** of the alligator
As his Casanova’s love voodoo bequeathed to him by his mother,
She spends money from a foreign sweat, in thrifts and thrifts,
She commands unilateral faculty of non-numerical learning
With her indelibility dominating the world of Music and painting,
She dares not to dream of true love, but her faith is in weakness of men
Hot in bed like an Italian pizza oven and cold in reason like tundra climate.
The non phenomenal woman the mother of my first born son,
I took him to Oxford University for a degree course in land law
He came back with a diploma in being a barber, good in shaving!
He is so handsome in pettiness with mighty athletic mediocrity
Vices redolent of maternal genetics in the non phenomenal woman,
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 3:27 AM UTC
Where go thee traveler, trailing in broken shadows?
Just another poet wandering down a mischievous path of deceit and beguiles.
Who be thee? Another shattered soul sauntering in denial?
Carry a name I do not, but you may call me whatever comes to your thoughts.
Cassandra. Deliverer of delight and heavenly sight, but caustic to those who try to consume her with the allure of night.
Cursory charm, a daring attempt to overtake the apex of my harnessed heart.
My penchant roars with a persistence that never rests!
Audacious lips of mine will eclipse your eyes as deep as an ocean and dark as wine.
Let our shadows combine, our fate intertwine to capture a moment of the divine.
Arrhythmic and blind your love needs redesign!
Otherwise I'll become another infatuation lost in time.
Here I stand austere without effrontery to burden our affair. What is it you'll have me declare?
First follow me into the infinite abyss.
What after I plunge into the nebulous mist?
Our hands we'll share in the company of crescent stares
Sep 22, 2010
Sep 22, 2010 at 12:21 PM UTC