"eurus" poems
Two birds took flight from the same tree,
one flew east to Eurus’ realm.
Seeking warm lands and sunrise's embrace.
The other flew west to Zephyrus' palace,
In search of the gentle winds
and harsh conditions.
Intending to get as far as possible from one another
and yet, life had other plans for them.
Escaping the past does not get you far
and what goes around comes around.
Years later, the two birds
discovered the world was round.
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 2:13 PM UTC
A student of the crowded breeze.
On a whim Raise like the dandelions' seed,
Vibrantly dissent like, in fall, trees' leaves.
An apostle of purpose beyond what one sees for the unknown is nothing and possibility.
Our lessons are on the topic of practical whimsy, in their way; the wind that cools your face also fans a flame and guides the rain.
The Sensei go by many names, I know them from the roles they play:
Boreas shepherds my turmoil,
A tempest;
senseless, cold and violent as if without vision only vengeance.
Notus shows my passion;
A gust to an ember on dry land,
Unreasonable, unpredictable and destructive without a plan.
Zephyr entices my love;
A subtle intimate current for dance,
The beauty of birds and bees flying from flower to flower and branch to branch.
Eurus reflects my way;
A flurry that moves the sand.
The removal of sediment,
the return to foundation born from action mixed with patience.
They can only guide me
I can ride the winds of the odyssey or resign to the winds of dreams
but I know
I Am
A student of the breeze.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 5:04 PM UTC
Oh precious Hyacinth, in my eyes a jewel
In front of your radiance, my knees fell
You’re like a glistening pearl in a ****** shell
I am enamored by your enthralling spell
Listen everyone to Zephyrus’ Serenade for Hyacinth!
Oh King of Sparta, you bear the tastiest fruit
On the land he is the handsomest youth
This is for everyone a crystal clear truth
That’s why in my heart the arrows of Eros shoot
Listen everyone to Zephyrus’ Serenade for Hyacinth!
Oh precious Hyacinth, you have equaled the glamour of a god
Your face is fairer than any mortal lad
Your muscles are firmer than any man had
Because of such beauty, you make me feel glad
Listen everyone to Zephyrus’ Serenade for Hyacinth!
Oh King of Olympus, let me have this seductive mortal
For him my godly being turned carnal
The appeal of his flesh is oddly unusual
I want him to be mine for time eternal
Listen everyone to Zephyrus’ Serenade for Hyacinth!
Oh precious Hyacinth, under my wings you’ll never fall
Come to the West Wind’s most desperate call
To you I’ll reserve the prettiest room in my hall
The most romantic & blissful haven for all
Listen everyone to Zephyrus’ Serenade for Hyacinth!
Oh deities & humans, grant me this costly man
Boreas, Notus, Eurus, bring me this heavenly Spartan
Let our powerful Anemoi bequeath him from his clan
Turn him over to the Western Wind, his greatest fan!
Listen everyone to Zephyrus’ Serenade for Hyacinth!
-02/11/2015
(Dumarao)
*Hopelessly Immortal Collection
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 9:53 PM UTC
Carstairs had been waiting for the boat for three days and there it was, suddenly appeared. He had dozed and it had appeared. He trained his binoculars on it, but it was too far away to be clearly recognisable. It seemed motionless, becalmed in a sheet of unruffled water.
He had dug himself into a bank in the sandhills. He still had a little water, some raisins; there was a final cube of chocolate carefully wrapped in the whole of its paper. It was the thought of this hidden pleasure that had sustained him during the hours of darkness when the slight rain and the chill of inactivity had forced him to exercise, to move about, though always afraid he would lose his burrow.
From the earliest light of dawn the day had been clear and still. The sea birds had muted calls, the sea itself more a presence than a sound. The tide had steadily retreated beyond his expectations. He knew he had to wait for the arranged signal.
Turning on his back he looked at the sky. A few clouds floated hesitantly in the glazed blue. He remembered suddenly a moment from his childhood, above the beach at Red Point. He had escaped his parents, his adored sisters, and hidden himself in the marran grass. He had lain on his back and felt himself levitate into the clouds. He had looked down on the whole scene, a waking dream. Those moments floating above the long Highland beach had never left him. Sitting in the examination hall for his Tripos that memory had come upon him; he had been paralyzed by it, unable to write or think. He had closed his eyes and strange geometrical shapes had ensnared him. He had felt extremely sick . . .and then very calm. He had returned to the task in hand, a translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses, that opening passage describing Eurus, Zephyr, Auster and Boreas: the four winds.
. . . he felt something wet nuzzle his hand. A dog, a black shape no more. As he struggled to move himself a larger shape obliterated the sun and shot him.
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 3:46 AM UTC
Maintain a distance
Of at least three feet
Cuz a close encounter
Is more bitter than sweet
Just one step too close
And she's inside your head
Just one step too close
And soon you'll be dead
She'll make you believe
That she can help you
That whatever you want
Is what she wants too
But once she's inside
Her wicked voice rings
By then, you're enslaved
To do her bidding
Her thoughts are inhuman
She doesn't feel pain
She's clearly unmatched
When it comes to the brain
But please don't be tricked
By her dark mind games
What she's trying to do
Is drive you insane
Who is she, you ask?
She's the east wind that blows
Well haven't you guessed?
Her name is Eurus.
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 4:24 PM UTC
the cold draft rises from the east
up there, we are kissed by the wind
in the middle of words, we were lost
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 3:18 AM UTC