"euterpe" poems
My sweet water nymph
...earlier?!
You wished for me to arrive "earlier"?!
By your side be my life.
I carry your heart through realms of chaos.
Beg my pardon for the lapse in minutes..
Reliving your love can ****
You are thy muse.
Enchanting and mischievous and empowering is your being.
Your aura bleeds ecstasy and grace.
Calliope, Clio, Euterpe, Erato, Melpomene, Polyhymnia, Terpsichore, Thalia, Urania...
Collapsed in a single body.
What a body.
My sweet water nymph. . .
Carrying inspiration in those stems.
We can't help but bow to you.
Give me your ripened fruit of art.
You poor soul.
. . .my sweet water nymph
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 3:52 AM UTC
I'm sick of embarking in dories
Upon an emotional sea.
I'm wearied of playing Dolores
(A role never written for me).
I'll never again like a cub lick
My wounds while I squeal at the hurt.
No more I'll go walking in public,
My heart hanging out of my shirt.
I'm tired of entwining me garlands
Of weather-worn hemlock and bay.
I'm over my longing for far lands--
I wouldn't give that for Cathay.
I'm through with performing the ballet
Of love unrequited and told.
Euterpe, I tender you vale;
Good-by, and take care of that cold.
I'm done with this burning and giving
And reeling the rhymes of my woes.
And how I'll be making my living,
The Lord in His mystery knows.
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Dream a dream.
Make paradise twice as nice.
Take away all ills.
Apollo taught muses their crafts.
While playing on his lyre.
The muses danced on laurel leaves.
Paradise on Mount Helicon.
What was purpose of those muses?
I hear your request.
In land of myth from times long gone.
Nine goddesses,
spirits,
to put the world to rights.
With artistry, music, science and literature.
Linked under the heavens.
Forget the evils of the world.
Music, poetry catharsis.
Thalia.
Hysterical lady of comedy it seemed.
Good cheer and plenty sent.
Clio.
Made her history.
Wanted fame 'twas said.
Tried to keep it cheerful.
Along came Melpomene.
Singing loudly while playing around with tragedy.
Urania.
In celestial style,
glances to the heavens.
While Polyhymnia.
Sings and dances.
Making many songs
Sometimes in a silent mime.
The lovely Erato compiled poetic words of love.
Euterpe.
Made lyrics poetical
Brim filled with joy.
Maybe for Polyhymnia to sing
Calliope.
Her beautiful voice is heard.
Nearly a Nightingale.
Maybe singing bird.
Creation of poems based on epics.
Terpsichore
Danced on and on eternally.
While poets pens write on!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 7:30 AM UTC
Well hello, sweet Muses.
How nice of you to drop by
at four in the morning.
Let me make you some tea.
How are you all today?
Oh, I forgot for a moment
that you are goddesses
and are always
exactly as you should be.
I'm fine except my sleep
has become oddly contrary.
But you all know that and more.
You are the magic that
stirs my dreams until
I give up and get up.
You betray me to nightmares,
insomnia, memories and poems
that could certainly wait
for morning if you so desired.
And where have you all been?
For three years, you've been gone
and I have been left mute.
Such fickle ******* you are,
only bestowing your favors
according to your whims.
But we have all, back to Homer,
known how unfaithful you can be.
Now you've returned and I can't sleep.
You know I'm not so young
as the last time you visited.
I need a little rest occasionally,
but you are working me to death
as if no time at all has passed.
There should be a union for poets.
Of course, I will do your bidding as usual.
Calliope, Clio, Euterpe,
Thalia, Melpomene, Terpsichore,
Polyhymnia and sweet demanding Erato.
It's nice to see you all again,
all so lovely and immortal,
but please remember I am only a man
and a man can only take so much.
So please, try not to show up before 8 AM.
~mce
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 10:02 AM UTC
I call upon their harmony
They honor me with artistry
The pupils of Apollo's
Lyre resonant inside of me
Calliope adventurous,
Intrepid in her recklessness
Emboldening my will to lead
The unenlightened on this quest
Through Clio's scrolls of history
My oracle clairvoyant
She has graced me with the vision
Of the future sky chatoyant
And a buoyant sea of Euterpe
All floating through the lyricist
That synchronizes all of this
Into a metamorphosis
Evolving as Erato's love
A heart as soft as silk
A dove, tabula rasa thirsting for
The Mother Gaea's milk
To rise from Melpomene
Masks of tragic flaws of Icarus
For I divine the comedies
Thalia simply can't resist
Polyhymnia, Terpsichore
My rarest of expressions
Still reveal themselves in forms
Of spirit guide possessions
When Urania in cosmic bliss
Transports me to the stars
Reborn again to join them
As Mnemosyne's memoirs
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 1:11 AM UTC
the only calliope
i ever really wanted
has already decided
she's through with me
without giving me
a chance to speak.
-
and she's polyhymnia
in the comedy of hell,
raising voice in praise
of anything she respects
and in that she garners
all the power intrinsic.
-
no need for erato
when she's around
to keep my arteries
and thoughts clear
of emotional plaque
and writers' embolisms.
-
she is euterpe on a stage
of all the beautiful words
in all the beautiful languages
that can never be explained,
only known, and loved
and said in blissful ignorance.
-
she's thalia and melpomene,
comedy and tragedy,
laughter in her steps,
and springtime song,
and the ache of departure
evident in her wake.
-
terpischore at play
when the music starts,
involuntary, a reflex;
dancing is like breathing
to she who will break
my heart so many times.
-
she is urania --
she keeps my eyes
on infinity and away
from sights that feel
like shaky index knuckles
on unforgiving pistol triggers.
-
she is clio, keeper
of simple night histories,
because those are what
she lives for, and those are
what i've always mused upon
living for -- with her.
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 2:41 PM UTC
Called again into the night
by the three am goddess
on her winged flight.
She drapes tail feathers ‘cross my mind;
She rings her bell
and says “its time.”
Who is this waif, just out of sight,
whose siren call
breaks dream’s delight?
Calliope, Erato too -
Sing Euterpe!
I know the tune.
Show the way down night’s dark hall
to the inner hell
where true love falls.
Terpsichore, swoop round me, do.
Dance memories,
each dressed in blue.
Is that you, dear Melpomene,
come to trump
your sister queens?
Your song, of all, so clear and true -
hold tight my hand,
I’ll go with you.
But wait, whose lantern shines ahead?
Dear Clio knows,
she’s made my bed.
And to it now I shall return.
The words are down,
they’ll no more burn.
I’ll lie awake no more to muse
upon the love
I’ve yet to lose.
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 11:17 AM UTC
Nada mejor para cantar la vida,
y aun para dar sonrisas a la muerte,
que la áurea copa donde Venus vierte
la esencia azul de su viña encendida.
Por respirar los perfumes de Armida
y por sorber el vino de su beso,
vino de ardor, de beso, de embeleso,
fuérase al cielo en la bestia de Orlando,
¡Voz de oro y miel para decir cantando:
la mejor musa es la de carne y hueso!Cabellos largos en la buhardilla,
noches de insomnio al blancor del invierno,
pan de dolor con la sal de lo eterno
y ojos de ardor en que Juvencia brilla;
el tiempo en vano mueve su cuchilla,
el hilo de oro permanece ileso;
visión de gloria para el libro impreso
que en sueños va como una mariposa
y una esperanza en la boca de rosa:
¡La mejor musa es la de carne y hueso!Regio automóvil, regia cetrería,
borla y muceta, heráldica fortuna,
nada son como a la luz de la Luna
una mujer hecha una melodía.
Barca de amar busca la fantasía,
no el yacht de Alfonso o la barca de Creso.
Da al cuerpo llama y fortifica el seso
ese archivado y vital paraíso;
pasad de largo, Abelardo y Narciso:
¡La mejor musa es la de carne y hueso!Clío está en esa frente hecha de Aurora,
Euterpe canta en esta lengua fina,
Talía ríe en la boca divina,
Melpómene es ese gesto que implora;
en estos pies Terpsícore se adora,
cuello inclinado es de Erato embeleso,
Polymnia intenta a Calíope proceso
por esos ojos en que Amor se quema.
Urania rige todo ese sistema:
¡La mejor musa es la de carne y hueso!No protestéis con celo protestante,
contra el panal de rosas y claveles
en que Tiziano moja sus pinceles
y gusta el cielo de Beatrice el Dante.
Por eso existe el verso de diamante,
por eso el iris tiéndese y por eso
humano genio es celeste progreso.
Líricos cantan y meditan sabios
por esos pechos y por esos labios:
¡La mejor musa es la de carne y hueso!ENVÍO:Gregorio: nada al cantor determina
como el gentil estímulo del beso.
Gloria al sabor de la boca divina.
¡La mejor musa es la de carne y hueso!
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Clio, you are part of me.
Euterpe, you are too.
Thalia, you lift me up
when I am feeling blue.
Melpomene, you are close to me
Terpsichore, you were my youth
Erato, touch me secretly
Polymnia, you are truth.
Ourania, comes to me at night
and my soul she does enthrall .
Calliope, I love you most,
but see you least of all.
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 3:33 PM UTC
Ma muse, j'ai un tout petit dilemne.
Il est écrit qu'il y a en tout et pour tout neuf muses
Qui ont pour nom par ordre alphabétique
Calliope, Clio, Erato, Euterpe
Melpomène, Polymnie, Terspichore, Thalia et Uranie
Nulle trace d'Aura.
Es-tu vraiment celle que tu prétends être ?
Aimes-tu vraiment le chant de deux voix qui s'alternent ?
Et dans le cas où tu serais bien l'une des neuf
Pourquoi m'as-tu dit que tu étais le huit ?
Si je te pose la question
C'est que j'avais accès à ton site sur muses.com/aura
et j'ai égaré mon mot de passe.
Tu sais, ce mot de passe sécurisé
Qui nous permettait de nous exhiber tranquillement
A l'abri des regards indiscrets.
Je ne me souviens pas s'il y avait douze, quatorze ou vingt caractères.
mais il y en avait plus que huit
Il était fort et aléatoire
Entre majuscules, minuscules, symboles et chiffres
Impossible à craquer
C'était mieux que Fort Knox
Dedans tu avais mis ton âge, ton poids, ta taille, ta pointure
Et les lettres, arbmu et umz
Et un symbole étrange un t avec une virgule souscrite.
J'ai appelé à gauche et à droite les Muses pour retrouver ta trace,
Je t'ai googlisé. En vain.
Es tu vraiment ma Muse ou Furie ?
Par acquit de conscience j 'ai vérifié les noms des Furies
Tisiphone, Mégère et Alecton.
Et j'en reviens à la seule et unique question :
Qui es-tu ? Mon ombre, certes, mais encore ?
J'ai rêvé que tu étais astronaute et moi Martien.
Tu m'avais réduit de la taille d'un minuscule atome
Que tu gardais bien au chaud dans son berceau
Au fond de la planète Utérus.
Et tu m'allaitais d'eau de vie de mirabelle et me berçais
De câlins sucrés. Et je gazouillais
En regardant tes yeux, Aura,
A l'époque rouges jaunes orange bleus
Puis un jour tes yeux sont passé au vert
Et tu m'as sevré sans un mot, sans une parole.
Tu m'as mis hors du miroir
Et tu m'as dit d'aller caresser l'oiseau.
Et depuis j'erre comme un bateau ivre
Mais revenons à nos orphies :
Le mot de passe !!!
Pour simplifier je te propose
Qu'on efface tout ça et qu'on mette à la place
Juste une phrase comme :
Amant alterna camenae (Virg. egl III,59)
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 11:41 AM UTC
The digital world
makes us lazy.
Music on your phone,
your tablet, your laptop:
instantly and casually
accessible at a whim.
But placing a record
on a turntable
is making love.
It is tactile
and personal.
Your hands must
be steady and
proceed mindfully.
It takes time
and intention.
You must handle it
gently, with care
and pay attention
to the process.
When you do,
you reach its sweet
analog ******
Effort worthy
of Euterpe, Muse
of music.
She will keep you
coming back for more.
I do.
~mce
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 7:36 PM UTC
*
*Fingers tend to keys
Her hands precise with passion
Leave all souls enriched*
*
Jul 3, 2020
Jul 3, 2020 at 3:40 AM UTC
Entire lives encircle Sol believing that the ancient gods are a fiction.
These joyless sacks of empty flesh have never been graced with a moment in your presence. In that instant, all doubt is dispelled, for at your birth the Muses crafted their ultimate blessing to us mortals.
You embody the inspiration of Polyhymnia, Erato, and Calliope;
sacred, epic, love poetry flows unbidden from even the most
leaden of souls when you are near.
Dreams of grand comedies, heroic tragedies, and monumental
histories spring forth in you wake; each worthy of the pens of
Thalia, Melpomene, and Clio.
Your every sound and step cause Euterpe and Terpsichore to glow
with pride.
But possibly the most magnificent caress cam from Urania; for you,
my Love, are the incarnation of the naked stars in all their
infinite beauty, enshrined on this unworthy Earth.
I wish I could let her know I still ... everything.
Dec 26, 2019
Dec 26, 2019 at 11:33 PM UTC
How about we turn implicit to simplistic?
A small sudden change in our pas de deux.
It’s French. An elegant step of two,
Though we almost ended up wearing the same shoes…
Folie a deux. Madness of two.
Our madness, as our hearts beat in tune.
Tik tok. Tik tok. Like a clock.
Counting the time to our starting off.
Tu me rends fou. You drive me insane.
You make me want to jump, swim or scream your name!
Let’s dance, my L' amour! In the moonlight like gods,
Beethoven’s sonata, performed by Euterpe,
The muse of music and arts! Just for us, the Olympian gods.
Tik tok. Tik tok. My heart is about to stop.
A day? A month? A year or two…
I will not stop loving you.
My dear, my love, my sweet un copain,
I love you, I treasure you, please drive me insane.
Let the grandfather clock, stop the passing of time!
I want you forever, handsome, young knight...
My love, my fire,
That will burn away the night.
Let’s dance! Again. Let me feel you close once more.
Performing our twirls, never dreaming of a stop.
Feb 17, 2018
Feb 17, 2018 at 3:50 AM UTC
Voyons, d'où vient le verbe ? Et d'où viennent les langues ?
De qui tiens-tu les mots dont tu fais tes harangues ?
Écriture, Alphabet, d'où tout cela vient-il ?
Réponds.
Platon voit l'I sortir de l'air subtil ;
Messène emprunte l'M aux boucliers du Mède ;
La grue offre en volant l'Y à Palamède ;
Entre les dents du chien Perse voit grincer l'R ;
Le Z à Prométhée apparaît dans l'éclair ;
L'O, c'est l'éternité, serpent qui mord sa queue ;
L'S et l'F et le G sont dans la voûte bleue,
Des nuages confus gestes aériens ;
Querelle à ce sujet chez les grammairiens :
Le D, c'est le triangle où Dieu pour Job se lève ;
Le T, croix sombre, effare Ézéchiel en rêve ;
Soit ; crois-tu le problème éclairci maintenant ?
Triptolème, a-t-il fait tomber, en moissonnant,
Les mots avec les blés au tranchant de sa serpe ?
Le grec est-il éclos sur les lèvres d'Euterpe ?
L'hébreu vient-il d'Adam ? le celte d'Irmensul ?
Dispute, si tu veux ! Le certain, c'est que nul
Ne connaît le maçon qui posa sur le vide,
Dans la direction de l'idéal splendide,
Les lettres de l'antique alphabet, ces degrés
Par où l'esprit humain monte aux sommets sacrés,
Ces vingt-cinq marches d'or de l'escalier Pensée.
Eh bien, juge à présent. Pauvre argile insensée,
Homme, ombre, tu n'as point ton explication ;
L'homme pour l'oeil humain n'est qu'une vision ;
Quand tu veux remonter de ta langue à ton âme,
Savoir comment ce bruit se lie à cette gamme,
Néant. Ton propre fil en toi-même est rompu.
En toi, dans ton cerveau, tu n'as pas encor pu
Ouvrir ta propre énigme et ta propre fenêtre,
Tu ne te connais pas, et tu veux le connaître,
LUI ! Voyant sans regard, triste magicien,
Tu ne sais pas ton verbe et veux savoir le sien !
382
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]
Two Verses in the Eternal Hymn
For Cate and Jack
Christmas 2023
From the foot of the Throne
A river flows out into all that is
And with it your music across the universe
To sing the happy beginnings of all things
To celebrate the holiness of being
Past
Dragons and dreams, the Mysteries of Joy
Galaxies of stars, the Mysteries of Light
An abyss of pain, the Mysteries of Sorrow
Eternal dawn, the Mysteries of Glory
Your music spirals and spins among the spheres
Among the orbits and spheres and great mysteries
Great mysteries of beings and things never seen
Your voices join with the songs of Creation
Your music slips into our atmosphere
To sing and ring among the rocks and rills
Voices of love singing joy and truth
Your gifts of beauty to humanity
You and your sweet voices, rare gifts of love
From the Throne of God to us on earth
And back again, music as light as dreams
And deeper than thunder from Olympus
Old Vainamoinen sings at dawn with you
Euterpe, Terpsichore, and Erato are your kin
Apollo tunes his lyre to you, and Pan his pipes
And Cecelia blesses all your works:
Hymns, descants, and carols, merry marches for the road
Bubble-gum tunes for the car radio
Sea shanties for work, and nonsense rhymes for fun
You pray them, play them, craft them all into place
Your music is a sacred offering to God
You sing it out into the universe
Where every note is an ornament forever
And you are two verses in the eternal Hymn
Dec 10, 2023
Dec 10, 2023 at 8:53 PM UTC