"dittany" poems
Bear me to Dictaeus,
and to the steep slopes;
to the river Erymanthus.
I choose spray of dittany,
cyperum, frail of flower,
buds of myrrh,
all-healing herbs,
close pressed in calathes.
For she lies panting,
drawing sharp breath,
broken with harsh sobs.
she, Hyella,
whom no god pities.
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Oh, Moon vine,
Always sleeping where you bud.
I knew you couldn't wake,
Too lost in your fantasy's of pallid dittany's.
Do you wish to be stirred one day,
Or would you prefer to dream forever?
To chase the void in longing disparity,
To live in your own mind eternally?
When you wilt do you think, Moon vine,
You'll keep dreaming?
Dec 12, 2024
Dec 12, 2024 at 12:27 PM UTC
Baby's breath kisses the merlot tide of disease,
A brindled sea holds the white orchid of blanched dittany's.
Moonflowers scintillate with each cradle of dusk,
While Stars marl the sky, veiling over in cosmic musk.
During quietude, swans tread the ichor in a pearlesque flotilla,
The poison ripples beneath them as they thread between silk lilies and ivory scilla.
The gore strewn water continues to fester with pulsating, ripe, bile,
Despite all, the huddle of infancy will remain ever fertile.
Dec 14, 2024
Dec 14, 2024 at 9:31 AM UTC