"hebe" poems
XV. TO HERACLES THE LION-HEARTED (9 lines)
(ll. 1-8) I will sing of Heracles, the son of Zeus and much the
mightiest of men on earth. Alcmena bare him in Thebes, the city
of lovely dances, when the dark-clouded Son of Cronos had lain
with her. Once he used to wander over unmeasured tracts of land
and sea at the bidding of King Eurystheus, and himself did many
deeds of violence and endured many; but now he lives happily in
the glorious home of snowy Olympus, and has neat-ankled **** for
his wife.
(l. 9) Hail, lord, son of Zeus! Give me success and prosperity.
7.7k
Chloe's hair, no doubt, was brighter;
Lydia's mouth more sweetly sad;
Hebe's arms were rather whiter;
Languorous-lidded Helen had
Eyes more blue than e'er the sky was;
Lalage's was subtler stuff;
Still, you used to think that I was
Fair enough.
Now you're casting yearning glances
At the pale Penelope;
Cutting in on Claudia's dances;
Taking Iris out to tea.
Iole you find warm-hearted;
Zoe's cheek is far from rough--
Don't you think it's time we parted? . . .
Fair enough!
3.2k
Mingle with the genial bowl
The Rose, the ‘flow’ret’ of the Soul,
The Rose and Grape together quaff’d,
How doubly sweet will be the draught!
With Roses crown our jovial brows,
While every cheek with Laughter glows;
While Smiles and Songs, with Wine incite,
To wing our moments with Delight.
Rose by far the fairest birth,
Which Spring and Nature cull from Earth—
Rose whose sweetest perfume given,
Breathes our thoughts from Earth to Heaven.
Rose whom the Deities above,
From Jove to **** dearly love,
When Cytherea’s blooming Boy,
Flies lightly through the dance of Joy,
With him the Graces then combine,
And rosy wreaths their locks entwine.
Then will I sing divinely crown’d,
With dusky leaves my temples bound—
Lyæus! in thy bowers of pleasure,
I’ll wake a wildly thrilling measure.
There will my gentle Girl and I,
Along the mazes sportive fly,
Will bend before thy potent throne—
Rose, Wine, and Beauty, all my own.
2.6k
I.
Adieu, New-England’s smiling meads,
Adieu, the flow’ry plain:
I leave thine op’ning charms, O spring,
And tempt the roaring main.
II.
In vain for me the flow’rets rise,
And boast their gaudy pride,
While here beneath the northern skies
I mourn for health deny’d.
III.
Celestial maid of rosy hue,
O let me feel thy reign!
I languish till thy face I view,
Thy vanish’d joys regain.
IV.
Susanna mourns, nor can I bear
To see the crystal show’r,
Or mark the tender falling tear
At sad departure’s hour;
V.
Not unregarding can I see
Her soul with grief opprest:
But let no sighs, no groans for me,
Steal from her pensive breast.
VI.
In vain the feather’d warblers sing,
In vain the garden blooms,
And on the ***** of the spring
Breathes out her sweet perfumes.
VII.
While for Britannia’s distant shore
We sweep the liquid plain,
And with astonish’d eyes explore
The wide-extended main.
VIII.
Lo! Health appears! celestial dame!
Complacent and serene,
With Hebe’s mantle o’er her Frame,
With soul-delighting mein.
IX.
To mark the vale where London lies
With misty vapours crown’d,
Which cloud Aurora’s thousand dyes,
And veil her charms around.
X.
Why, Phoebus, moves thy car so slow?
So slow thy rising ray?
Give us the famous town to view,
Thou glorious king of day!
XI.
For thee, Britannia, I resign
New-England’s smiling fields;
To view again her charms divine,
What joy the prospect yields!
XII.
But thou! Temptation hence away,
With all thy fatal train,
Nor once ****** my soul away,
By thine enchanting strain.
XIII.
Thrice happy they, whose heav’nly shield
Secures their souls from harms,
And fell Temptation on the field
Of all its pow’r disarms!
2.1k
A Song
Fill the goblet again! for I never before
Felt the glow which now gladdens my heart to its core;
Let us drink!—who would not?—since, through life’s varied round,
In the goblet alone no deception is found.
I have tried in its turn all that life can supply;
I have bask’d in the beam of a dark rolling eye;
I have lov’d!—who has not?—but what heart can declare
That Pleasure existed while Passion was there?
In the days of my youth, when the heart’s in its spring,
And dreams that Affection can never take wing,
I had friends!—who has not?—but what tongue will avow,
That friends, rosy wine! are so faithful as thou?
The heart of a mistress some boy may estrange,
Friendship shifts with the sunbeam—thou never canst change;
Thou grow’st old—who does not?—but on earth what appears,
Whose virtues, like thine, still increase with its years?
Yet if blest to the utmost that Love can bestow,
Should a rival bow down to our idol below,
We are jealous!—who’s not?—thou hast no such alloy;
For the more that enjoy thee, the more we enjoy.
Then the season of youth and its vanities past,
For refuge we fly to the goblet at last;
There we find—do we not?—in the flow of the soul,
That truth, as of yore, is confined to the bowl.
When the box of Pandora was open’d on earth,
And Misery’s triumph commenc’d over Mirth,
Hope was left,—was she not?—but the goblet we kiss,
And care not for Hope, who are certain of bliss.
Long life to the grape! for when summer is flown,
The age of our nectar shall gladden our own:
We must die—who shall not?—May our sins be forgiven,
And **** shall never be idle in Heaven.
1.7k
I would have taken Medusa
Held her in my palms
Freezing you from delicate feet
To high strung arms
I would have knelt to Athena
With a smirk
To deflower a goddess
But you were too wise for that
My flirts would be accompanied with a smack
I would have carried Zeus upon my back
Walking 88,729 miles from the sun
In a race
Where being fifth place
Lets me know I've won
Yes i would have been your reason
Your brown leaves bringing about a new season
I would have brought with me
A silver bow
And golden lyre
Bringing about songs of Apollo
As embers from the fire
Hollow trees
The holes in my heart
I have filled with wine
Dionysus in true of his time
I would have called you mine
I would have loved your beauty
Touched your desires
As i admired
Aphrodite in blue
The color i witnessed
As i kissed you
I would have been clever
As i pulled the levers to your mind
Quick as lightening
To put out the thunders of our fighting
Yes I'd be your Hermes
And I would have named you ****
When your lust for youth was taken
I would have awakened as Aries
Prepared for war
When you had battles within
I would have been a god
To slay your demons
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 4:24 AM UTC
Like the night that flows in arrows
And the raven that flies in skies
She comes to me in a chaise
Pulled by the great white wolf
Aimee, my love, you are
the door between pleasure and pain
You fold me in shawl of lies
And stab my heart with truth
You came here like a salamander from the fire
Your siblings are **** and Nyx,
Melt in my arms like dew on leaves
Whisper and say you'll never leave
But the archer killed the raven
And wolf barks outside, in forest,
You have to go, you kiss my neck,
Send me to sleep, although
You know I'll wake up crying
Your hair is unseen in night
The eyes are tears of fire
Your skin is made from brightest stars
And you're dressed with moonrays
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 2:25 PM UTC
Yes.
And we all know how to
Make poetry pay.
We all know what it is
That makes Sammy run,
Run Sammy Run.
But I take it to its
Absurd conclusion:
Ads right in the middle of
The ******* poem!
“That was,”
If I do say so myself,
“A stroke of pecuniary brilliance."
Pecuniary adjective pe·cu·ni·ary \pi-ˈkyü-nē-ˌer-ē\
: Relating to or in the form of money
Full Definition of PECUNIARY
1: consisting of or measured in money 2: of or relating to money
— pe·cu·ni·ar·i·ly \-ˌkyü-nē-ˈer-ə-lē\ adverb http://www.thesaurus.com
Would not this be an excellent conceit?
Villainy of a close & potent kind?
Put the cart before the horse
(So to speak):
POETS AS SWEAT EQUITY.
That’s right!
Make us pay for our sins,
Financing our sins.
(So to speak).
What a concept!
Why not run the Merriam-Webster logo here . . .
Would this not be the appropriate time?
(logo)
Advertising right smack
Dab in the middle of
The ******* poem!
My third world soul
Having a difficult time
Navigating this Toddlin' Town
Allow me to show you around, town.
And lest we forget:
Our first poets were religious crazies,
With diction gilding Version, King James.
"My Schtick,"
As Mel Brooks might say.
Mel's History of the World
(Part 2, i.e.),
Retells the Essence of Story Telling,
The Misnah Pentateuch,
Told again with the usual **** genius.
Scene: Moses stumbles on Sinai,
One of three burdensome
Stone tablets is dropped,
Shatters on a rock.
What could possibly have been proscribed
In those 5 lost commandments?
What freaky human pleasure,
Could possibly have been lost to humanity?
It is pointless to speculate.
'Tis better to think about this,
Dear Poetry Publisher Query *****
Ads right in the middle of the ******* poem.
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
Llovizna abrillanta-asfaltos
de la dormida calleja.
Llovizna canta-en-la-reja,
llovizna arrulla-a-la-oreja,
-escala de los asaltos
(Julieta habita en los altos.)
de Romeo-: historia añeja.
Llovizna moja-que-moja
trovador de Alda o Mafalda,
nocharniego rima-balda
cuyo manteo sofalda
-para colmo a su congoja-
la ventisca, y lo sonroja:
trovero-desnuda-espalda...
Llovizna pica y repica
con su yeloso goteo
por el raído manteo
del aterido Romeo:
si el balcón cierra la rica
-fembra, asaz se simplifica
la acción de Tristán e Iseo...
Llovizna llueve-que-llueve,
llovizna cala-que-cala.
Presto apróntale la escala,
pronto el partido por gala
en dos alista: a que pruebe
tu licor cálido ****
cuaderno-azul-bajo-el-ala,
es decir vate-que-bate,
rimador rima-que-rima,
harpa-al-hombro, laúd-mima,
vihuela-pellizca, o lima
-violín, o teclas-abate...
Campo-de-pluma, el combate,
**** de amor, se aproxima:
Campo-de-plumas, apresta
**** (Iseo, Isolda, Alda,
Julieta, Dido o Mafalda):
trovador-lira-a-la-espalda
apercibe su ballesta
y el dardo certero asesta
que clavar ha en tu guirnalda.
**** (Mafalda, Alda, Dido,
Iseo, Julieta, Isota,
Ulalume, ya remota,
Xatlí, morena-de-oliva,
Eglé, blonda delusiva,
deswertherada Carlota,
Ofelia ofélida ignota,
fugadas en el olvido):
Llega el trovador transido
-rota flámula en derrota,
rota flámula hecha criba,
gonfalón deshecho hecho
girón: pero avante el pecho
trae el trovador maltrecho
pujante: y en su lasciva
boca, el ascua-siempre-viva
que hoguera será en el lecho.
844
That silly smile you give
With your deep red wine lips
The bubblegum chatter you oblige my days with
They craft out symphonies of mayhem incessently
The jet black ocean dreamers eyes
That blush out the moon in its prime
And once eyes meet
A smile trudges along and greet
Beneath the smooth black sheet of hair
Eyebrows sharpened and with a smiley wink
Th raging velvet satin black hair
That flow like ink out of hebe's imagination
The slender fingers you swing
Look like an aussie serpentine
The incessent wandering eyes
That twist and take you for a ride
The cheeks that radiate with hues of pink
Its like cherries perched on a rosy sheet
Your face is like a razor blade
Melts away the expression it drains
Your face reanimates and moves like the moon
As the sun goes goes only to reappear
You are eternally here
You sparkle along and shine like a precious gem
Your changing mood
Your face expresses like the phases of moon
It Keeps a little beuty
And sometimes a shimmer of mischief
Someday somewhere maybe you will see a snowflake
And someone somewhere might drown in those eyes
Everywhere you go.. You leave a little piece of yourself behind
You envy of davinci, the muse of humbert
Like a dagger with a crystal glaze
You will give cinderella a run for her fame
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 11:25 PM UTC
Please Approximate/Designate Race: check all that apply (if any)
pre employment query (optional ostensibly)
🀆American Indian
🀆 White
🀆Tenderfoot
🀆Half-Breed
🀆Crackers
***
*****
🀆Guineas
🀆Polacks
🀆Micks
🀆Black
🀆African American
🀆Hispanic
🀆 Non-Hispanic Latino
🀆Asian
🀆Ending in ease, Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese…
🀆Filipino’s (flips)
🀆Calico
🀆Hindi Indian, **** Middle Eastern, Bedouins, Persian…
🀆Hawaiian, Polynesian, Oceanian
🀆Mixed Plate
🀆Semitic (Hebe’s and Arabs)
🀆Translucent
🀆Freakasoides (human)
🀆Alien, (outer space kine)
🀆Tuna-neck (any variety)
🀆Other
🀆Undecided
🀆None of your biz wax
🀆Beats all hell outta me
🀆WAT
***
🀆Cannot compute
🀆Complete Miscegenation
🀆From whence do we commence this abstruse extrapolation? (anglo saxon)
**** All
©kwr
Feb 16, 2020
Feb 16, 2020 at 10:30 PM UTC
*
*Her beauty unmarred
Ambrosia flows in full
Serves with a sweet smile*
*
Jul 6, 2020
Jul 6, 2020 at 4:46 AM UTC
Awakened by light, and naked in shame
Slipping, scion of **** from skin oh slippery and thick
Away from sight, with no luster or name
In corridors of flesh, pierced by thy kick, whilst in
Phantasms do dwell in minds murky swamp
Gliding in air, through life’s cosmic sea
In queer reflections, of youth’s insipid romp,
Ignorant to malady that life harkens to thee.
Of the feeble mind, demons slumber
In wait for gestures of youthful pride
In caves do inhabit, where sperms of hell may ‘bound in number
In carnal filth, thy river of life ‘came rot by lies
Slow in decay, both despaired in heart and feeble in mind
“Come unto me,” he sayeth to thee
Leeching from wounds of flesh confined
From cradle to corpse, by thine malignance of HE
Of young, tender flesh it is time is to feed
Mindless in thoughts, how willful thy bleed,
By host,
Of demonic seed.
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 5:58 PM UTC
Funny, very funny some ladies looking for their knight or king.
After been with their fake dreams.
He used, he abused and play her for a fool.
Now, she professing to be seeking a certain dude.
He will hear about her hurt.
Like testifying within church.
How?
He's so different than the others.
Guys, states this too about a certain woman.
She's looking for her knight.
The so call love of her life.
Like an autobiographical book that's written.
With him, she will be smitten.
Least for the moment cause she's looking for her knight.
He be charming.
**** sweet.
He be strong when the others was refer as weak.
Many men has been there.
All because at the time they loved her.
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 10:10 AM UTC