"hestia" poems
XXIV. TO HESTIA (5 lines)
(ll. 1-5) Hestia, you who tend the holy house of the lord Apollo,
the Far-shooter at goodly Pytho, with soft oil dripping ever from
your locks, come now into this house, come, having one mind with
Zeus the all-wise -- draw near, and withal bestow grace upon my
song.
4.6k
Claiming we're gods,
creating heaven,
when we're nothing but men,
destroying earth,
creating hell.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC
XXIX. TO HESTIA (13 lines)
(ll. 1-6) Hestia, in the high dwellings of all, both deathless
gods and men who walk on earth, you have gained an everlasting
abode and highest honour: glorious is your portion and your
right. For without you mortals hold no banquet, -- where one
does not duly pour sweet wine in offering to Hestia both first
and last.
(ll. 7-10) (33) And you, slayer of Argus, Son of Zeus and Maia,
messenger of the blessed gods, bearer of the golden rod, giver of
good, be favourable and help us, you and Hestia, the worshipful
and dear. Come and dwell in this glorious house in friendship
together; for you two, well knowing the noble actions of men, aid
on their wisdom and their strength.
(ll. 12-13) Hail, Daughter of Cronos, and you also, Hermes,
bearer of the golden rod! Now I will remember you and another
song also.
3.4k
Did we then sit beside Zeus and talk of men
was Hera there,when we talked of
the ****** Artemis,who with a kiss to thrill, for a kiss to kill,for a fire that Hestia lit upon the mountain top.
While Iris painted colours on the rainbow bright,Persephone and Hades lived a permanent night in their underworld,where all mankind would fear to go,
and Aphrodite trod lightly among the strewn flowers of love, with beauty and the wisdom of Athena
I wish I'd seen her face.
Apollo painted her **** on the bed and Ares went to war with that picture in his head and all the Gods said,
'what is but a wonderful sight,that we see our good people being slain in the night',for the old Gods were callous and jealous to a fault,thinking nothing of sending a lightning bolt to destroy what man made.
Neptune and Poseidon had tried to be nice but with water in their veins that ran cold as ice,they gave up and went home to the sea,saying,
'the mountain is no place to be for us seafaring deity,and with duty being done at the set of the sun and when the moon crooned slowly against the still of the sky,
the Gods slept.
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 11:27 AM UTC
Our mother, Gaia, shall never die
Though for us I cannot speak
When Terra does turn her back to our kind
Our might shall seem so meek
Roaring flames do lick her skin
While Chaos’ storms do rage
But Mother Earth will retreat within
And turn to a blank new page.
Zeus will fall when the skies go black
His wife, Hera, to follow when families dissolve
Once the gods fall there’ll be no way back
And hubris will be our final resolve.
Chronus may falter when there’s nobody alive
To observe the passage of hours
When the clocks have all stopped,
Gears unturning under toppled clock towers
No grandfathers left to chime.
But Gaia will live on in sleep so bereft
Long after we’re lost to time.
With no men to wage wars, Ares will fade
Athena too as innovation runs dry
Aphrodite may weep when there’s no love to be made
Hermes, when there’s nowhere to fly
And though our sun will live past our end,
There’ll be no chariot of gold
No homes, no hearths for Hestia to tend
And no music for Apollo to behold
We have long lost one of the faces
Of Artemis, the huntress under moonlight’s reign
And civilization (so-called) now erases
Pan, the wild god, and his sacred domain
What next, I now ask, shall we bid our farewell?
What aspect of humanity lost?
As we stumble along nearer to Hell
Whom shall be the next forgot?
But fear thee not, for life’s most precious gift
is the transience, the temporal nature of Earth
All will change, all will shift
and perhaps a different Cosmos may birth.
Once the stardust settles, a new something to arrive
And we shall perhaps there meet once again
Tied by fresh cords of fate to share new lives.
And all the while, she’s waited for us
Watching and loving those souls immortal
Taking new forms now from different dust
She’ll rejoice and rebirth the primordial
They will rise and then fall and eventually make way
For the pantheon of a new universe to arise
Perhaps not all will look the same--
But close enough for essence to find.
Sep 5, 2023
Sep 5, 2023 at 3:54 PM UTC
Rage and roar upon your thrones,
Love, loot and hate, be disparate,
But not for me are bawls and blows;
I’ll tend the hearth, the heart, the grate.
In the shadows I rest, my face a-glow –
Not plagued by fury as hot as fire,
Nor ambition, wrath, desire,
Nor revenge as cold as snow.
Quiet yet not dormant,
Docile though not all compliant,
You may scoff and scorn my choice
But I still hold the eternal fire –
My flame keeps Olympus alight,
I keep all safe throughout the night
And though I am not in your sight
You’ll always find me through your plight.
For I am Hestia,
First-born goddess,
The softest star.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 2:02 AM UTC
here is something that
mother told me
about god complexes:
“everyone believes themselves
to be gods among men:
even that hideous monster from your
half-remembered Hellenistic dreams
will retreat back to
his craggy hideaway and continue
with his hedonistic ways.
the poor creature:
he will don a halo,
iconize himself in caricatures
pretending that if for a moment
his veins flow ichorous that
Icarus may have envied when his wings
beat in tandem with the footfalls of
the sun chariots’ horses.
“the sun shines upon
hallowed ground, though Polyphemus
will avoid Helios’s scornful gaze.
he herds sheep––his only acolytes––
an unabashed king in his realm,
like a god plays war, or as a child
would play house,
humming hallelujah,
veins running gold-blooded.
when moon rises,
he will hang his weary
shadow at his door and retreat
to his fire-pit. perhaps this will be
the closest he will be to the gods,
basking in the heat of Hestia’s
humble hearth.
“in the end,” mother said,
“Nobody will end up deified.
Icarus may have rained down wax and
feathers in godlike fury
before tilting his head to Helios once more;
Polyphemus waded into the sea,
eyes clouded in godlike fury
before resigning himself to fate, head bowed.”
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 12:24 PM UTC
Burning nails, the beginning of the end and black sails for the death of an invisible friend,
Tragic loss resulting from the magic catapulting from my fingertips.
Read my fiery lips:
Give me shelter from your Neptunian storm,
Split the world with a wedge and keep our bodies warm
Kick the trunk of the oak until it bleeds with the fire you stoke
And coke you need and **** you smoke, and ****** Prometheus,
You are only human. But the fire in your blood leaves their smokestacks fuming
And nothing can save you, enslave yourself
With your strong-willed bravery on a rocky shelf.
Roll your eyes, disregard, spit in faces, **** me off
Because I'm the good sister, just tend the hearth and when I speak I scoff.
My name is Hestia, and I don't often stray from the Pantheon
So just trust me on this:
I'll introduce you to the smoldering truths, induce catharsis
And let your body loose, pick up your liver, tend your wounds
As if they were ash and oil, because we alone know justice.
You alone know how you've toiled.
And I can only start to understand your firebrand,
A passionate command. I tolerate you and adore you for your mortal score.
Prometheus, don't let those raptors gouge you anymore.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 1:32 AM UTC
I have lived my life
Trying only to do right.
Here, be home with me.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
To be compared to a godess, a golden creature in a shining bodice.
(Is this what girls want?)
to be as fair as aphrodite, grace and beauty and lovers mighty.
(and to be an adulterous back stabber!)
to have athena's dilligence wisdom and intelligence.
(and to be a moody cow who cow who cant take critiscm)
or put hestia to shame, purity kindness a maiden without blame
(a symbol of female submission)
then may your wish come true and have all the blessings of a godess
(most of you already have there curses)
Mar 11, 2011
Mar 11, 2011 at 8:14 AM 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
Any man would be blessed to have a goddess in his life.
Possessing all the wisdom, beauty, and grace
worthy of the Greek pantheon.
He prays and makes the appropriate sacrifices
to win a steadfast Hera
to his wayward Zeus;
a queen to his king.
That one girl who could start a war
with a glance.
They seek that one perfect goddess.
Yet I have a problem with that preconceived notion.
My eyes have been opened to the fact that goddesses
walk around us every day.
Women with the wisdom of Athena helping boys
learn what it really means to be men.
Hera’s who hold the family together no matter the cost.
Hestia’s who makes sure there is always a place to call home,
whether it’s a college dorm or rich estate.
Demeter’s who even when their love is taken
they still find a way to brighten the lives of those around them.
Praise to those with the spirit of Artemis
who won’t a silly thing like gender
stop them from achieving everything they want.
Also just because she doesn’t look like Aphrodite
to you doesn’t mean she isn’t one to me.
So thank you to all the goddesses in my life.
You helped to make me a hero when I could’ve been sent to Tartarus.
Never forget that you are special and never settle for less.
You inspire the muses.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 12:32 PM UTC
i gravitate towards you
like a dusky desolate deposit of dirt
to its glimmering counterpart
of lapis lazuli, ridden with veins of gold
i reach and reach
to no avail
and i watch as you spin quickly away
stumbling and straightening before slipping into another stagnant spiral
how do i catch up to one
so quickly moving amongst the stars?
celestial bodies they may be
but i am a mere moon, reflecting light for your gaze
i can feel my muscles expanding and stretching
tendons taut with tension and
heart pounding and pounding away at the pavement
as i move forward and grasp outwards to you
but a mere millimeter of air becomes solid
and my knuckles crash against nothingness
instead of the warmth of your palm
which i'm not truly sure was even there to begin with
the darkness of this dying universe
is colder and more derelict than i have the capacity
to understand; and so i curl inwards
alone amongst pebbles and freely floating matter
because a moon without a planet
is simply an orb named vesta
or a goddess called hestia:
frequently forgotten and oft omitted
by those who claim to be scholars of myth, keepers of lore
and by extension, the very children she presided over
overseer of life and hearth nevermore.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 2:00 AM UTC
When the hearth shall burn,
Hestia incarnate, my love she turns.
Faces me, brings me close,
Reminds an insecure heart, it she chose.
A sombre wish for a lasting pyre,
Of wood and timber feeding the fire.
Her hands when cold; warmth, my gift,
Endless sleep in passion, together we drift.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 12:39 AM UTC
he, my man, my atlas
holds up my world
with all encompassing love
he, my boy, my hermes
his smile brings messages
of love from the lips of heaven
me, all creative curves and
fertility...
goddess of hearth and home
hestia, in modern form, i be
he, little blucat .. bast
all compacted and wrinkly
a reminder....of fidelity
then out the back
in a temple
her own
mother god
now become crone
but ever loved
and worshiped
here at #259
we reside almost gods
yet biding the devil's own time
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 7:55 AM UTC
To wake and feel is life’s fine deal,
To love and yield so one can heal,
The fine repeal which one sees real,’
Is a virtue of the green seal,
To wake and joy a life long bliss,
Hestia gives us our precious kiss,
To say unless is like a diss,
When you are talking to your sis,
Enjoy the life the way you are,,
Thinking this way will get you far,
Drink fresh water from a smooth jar,
It will guide you – reach for the stars,
All desires which one achieves,
Depends on one who thus perceives,
In order for on be allieved,
To feel alive one must believe…
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 2:40 PM UTC
The world is forgetting how to be gentle
Full of splintered, broken souls
Razor people with razor tongues
And steel through every nerve
They’ve scrawled hatred across the cities
Across the sea and sky and stars
Raised crass and careless Ignorance on a pedestal
And laid laurels on its head
Everyone is watching
Yet no one seems to mourn
Seeking solace in endless bottles
In capsules and gains and blood-debts
Somehow still surprised at the empty world
That cuts at every turn
Us soft-folk
We are bruising
But we are warm in this freezing world
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 10:25 PM UTC
He was one of those rare people
Who heard birdsong in the silence,
Who saw colour in the dark,
Whose rich tongue could describe
The tantalising aroma of foreign meals
As our senses were ***** by cheap perfume in expensive bottles,
Who appreciated olive skin and who glorified brown eyes,
Who could tell with conviction the tales of his youth
When the cream sat atop the milk in a glass bottle
Topped with paper which the crows would pick away
Before they greedily swallowed its innards,
Whose hands were warm and comforting
Though rough and dark,
Who could make you believe, as the bombs dropped,
That everything would be fine,
That when we wake up the next morning
The daffodils will still rattle with passionate intensity,
That the glass would sit calmly in the window pane,
That his rough hands would still be on mine
As the sun rose and the noise hushed.
And they called him mad.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 10:23 PM UTC
Somewhere beyond the veil, far from the claws of civility,
Past the grey building that echos hostility,
Lies a humble hearth that would save my sanity,
touched by the goddess Hestia’s divinity.
Oh! Look-emerging from the lemon orchards is my lover,
Who runs to bring me a four leaf clover.
His golden touch makes me shiver;
I swear you could see his eyes shimmer.
You could taste the saline breeze,
That sprints from the languid sea;
the waves thrash in a symphony-
My brush drips with aquamarine.
You can smell the warm honeyed sky,
Curling from the fresh baked pies,
Or from the midnight hyacinths that cry ,
That my golden one helped reach the sky.
Those delicate fingers pluck the stings of the lyre,
Resonating a rhapsody the gods admire,
That fills my heart with desire,
As I look dumbstruck ,this heartthrob I’ve acquired.
You say,“when you know you know”,
And I think I will finally grow’
With my arms linked with my beau’
As we cocoon under the weeping willow.
But my ears rings with screams,
As I realise it was all a dream;
My sheets wet from the streams-
Was it all just my mind’s scheme?
My world now is once again grey.
I don’t know how will I go about my day;
My hands have no-one left to sway,
For I am as lonely as they say.
You tell me, that memory I should not save,
But my heart is not that brave.
For after all, I am my grief’s slave-
You know each day I wish I were in my grave.
May 6, 2025
May 6, 2025 at 1:06 AM UTC
Get disconnected,
And find you are detached from life.
Your fight becomes for the trivial,
And what is obvious to others
Eludes your sight.
You are choked up and smothered,
The fire you started, snuffing out all oxygen-
No longer beneficial.
And then you die
Jun 20, 2024
Jun 20, 2024 at 4:33 PM UTC
Can you come back home
See the cracks along with the wildflowers along with the weeds
Airplane arms flying concrete lanes
Hopping- skipping- tripping pavement
Apollo high in the sky
Ticking timebomb tickling- oh so- tender
Heartbeat jumping- pumping- thumping to the love
Love encased within the home hearth
Can you come back home
To the earthen greens and towering trees
- Hold Up -
A brain zap and a brain tap massercering-
The strength- the will- the want- the need
To see it all so bright and warm
The cracks cracking- shaking- breaking into molten chasms
Wildflowers- weeds- alike swallowed
Burnt alike- murdered alike- back to the core alike
Arms crashing- smashing- snapping into concrete fields
Timebomb looming- booming- shredding shrapnel through the love
The love encased- suppressed- within the home hearth
Mother nature aint your birther- she doesn't nurture
The hearth ain't **** if your home bone cold
Warmth make a home a home
Gaia spits up- chews up- ***** up mankind
Can you come back home
no
Make yourself your own ******* home.
May 11, 2019
May 11, 2019 at 10:52 AM UTC
My mom told me that
The day I was born
Two volcanoes in Philippines puked lava,
And the sky turned purple
Like the bruises on her back.
I smelled like gunpowder, she said.
So she named me after the goddess of war;
She named me Ballona.
I was three when I first
Made fireballs out of thin air,
And thrashed the pressure cooker
On my alcoholic father's head,
Who couldn't stop turning my mother
Into an exhibition of scars and miseries.
My mother believed that I was fire,
So she started calling me Hestia;
The Greek goddess of fire.
When I was six,
My teacher made me stand outside the classroom
Because I spelled fear as fire,
Bend as burn,
Woman as warrior,
Scars as power.
Even sixteen years later,
I still spell bend as burn,
Woman as warrior.
My hands carry the maps of cities
I have burned and men I have enslaved.
I keep their ashes inside my pockets,
And they keep my burn marks
On the edges of their shoulders.
They told me that love is spelled as sacrifice
And sacrifice as women,
So I tore their dictionaries,
And gifted them mine.
Every night when the moon sings lullaby to the stars,
They tell their daughters
The stories of woman who demolished cities and exhaled disasters,
And wore courage on her sleeves,
Every night with each different story,
Their daughters wish to be able to breathe fire,
Spell woman as warrior
And wish that somewhere someone will tell his daughter their stories.
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 9:05 AM UTC
Understand this once and for all!
Within me, I am as many as I choose to be
Don’t get me wrong
I’m not sick
I’ve never been as sane as I am today
But the strength of a single woman is not enough for me
I need to be many
I need to be Athena
But I also need to be Persephone
At times I’ll be Hera
But most of the time, Aphrodite
And, strangely enough, I’ll be Hestia, Demeter, and Artemis
All at once, or in their rightful time
Because this is me—unique
Goddess of myself
Aug 11, 2025
Aug 11, 2025 at 11:29 AM UTC