"menelaus" poems
...Short partings do best, though: time wears out affections,
The absent love fades, a new one takes its place.
With Menelaus away, Helen's disinclination for sleeping
Alone led her into her guest's
Warm bed at night. Were you crazy, Menelaus?
Why go off leaving your wife
With a stranger in the house? Do you trust doves to falcons,
Full sheepfolds to mountain wolves?
Here Helen's not at fault, the adulterer's blameless -
He did no more than you, or any man else,
Would do yourself. By providing place and occasion
You precipitated the act. What else did she do
But act on your clear advice? Husband gone; this stylish stranger
Here on the spot; too scared to sleep alone -
Oh, Helen wins my acquittal, the blame's her husband's:
All she did was take advantage of a man's
Human complaisance. And yet, more savage than the tawny
Boar in his rage, as he tosses the maddened dogs
On lightening tusks, or a lioness suckling her unweaned
Cubs, or the tiny adder crushed
By some careless foot, is a woman's wrath, when some rival
Is caught in the bed she shares. Her feelings show
On her face. Decorum's flung to the wind, a maenadic
Frenzy grips her, she rushes headlong off
After fire and steel... .
3.4k
Through a vision in my dream, I see her there standing
a smile, unpainted, authentic and real, hopeful
opening the door, I feel a smile emerge, and the butterflies
oh they kick within me, like a life is growing there
a baby in sight, with no bump or pulse, just a gathering
of fluttering wings, that should I rip my chest open
out they would fly, a mélange of colours and shapes
purple swallowtails, adonis blues, lacewings, painted ladies
and finally, my favourite, the Menelaus Blue Morpho
escorted by the Duke of Burgundy, my springtime hero
each flutter, each movement, a collection from the continents
my self, my soul, my body has travelled, wanderlust
keepsakes of beauty and bliss, bordering on extinction safe within me
in a heartbeat they cover my whole self, they move around my body
my legs tremble, barely able to hold, this grown woman upright
a gulp, a gasp, a stare in wonder,
speechless, tongue tied, dazed, dumb, silent
my head empties, no thought passes, the parietal lobe vanishes
adrenaline is racing through my body faster than the light hitting my eyes
moments later I find vocal sound waves breezing past my ears
they are in slow motion, her voice mumbled, incoherent
she touches me and I jump in fright,
my eyes adjust, my heartbeat slows down, my legs steady
"Rachel!"
"Rachel!"
I wake up alone.
© Sia Jane
---
*"In through the window a moonbeam comes,—
Little gold moonbeam with misty wings;
All silently creeping, it asks,
"Is he sleeping— Sleeping and dreaming while mother sings?"*
Eugene Field
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 7:02 PM UTC
There is an untold story of that night,
when the Trojan Horse won the ****** fight.
There was an unsung hero on the Greek’s side,
by the name of Prisius of the Pride.
He was strong, stronger than the valiant Odysseus.
He was brave, braver than the courageous Menelaus.
The Greeks fought for their lives,
on the very tip of their knives.
Cries of mercy, sorrow, pain filled the night.
Greeks prayed and prayed with all their might.
Then, Prisius came down from Mount. Olympus itself,
with no one but his horse and himself.
He conquered and captured, and at last had Odysseus at his feet.
“Oh! Mighty One, spare my poor life!” cried he in defeat.
Prisius wasn’t cruel, so he freed Odysseus with a solemn vow.
As soon as he freed the lying hero, Odysseus faked a gracious bow.
Then in moment’s notice, Odysseus slit Prisius’s throat
rolled it down the open sea, the head still floats.
Oh! Tragedy befell the town, the death of their only hope
gone out in the open, down the dangerous slope.
Prisisus lies, cold and dead, from an unfair fight.
This is the untold story of that night.
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
ACHILLES son of king PELUS of PHTHIA.
From near Thessalia not Sparta.
Born near where you parents married on mount Pelion.
Your mother Thetis a NYMPH known by AGAMENON.
King MENELAUS'S betrayal the Greeks all cross the Aegean.
Odysseus and PATROCLUS an armada some by passing the CRETAN.
Sons of Priam killed and only Odysseus escaped back to Ithica.
The BESIEGING of Troy in a wooden horse from Sparta.
Prince of the Myrmidon's to avenge PATROCLUS it's HECTOR you cut down.
All Troy did burn weak horse lovers they should have fled and in the RIVER STYX they would drown.
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 6:02 AM UTC
and fell on Hellenistic sculpture hard
tell me "in the round" was not perfected here
or that Helen was not gorgeous
and I would defer to Menelaus
for the war that ensued
and not Homer
depicting her as wistful,
as said once about her,
"Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships/And burnt the ******* towers of Ilium?"
I would have been her suitor.
Or I might have been Paris
in another life
daring to abduct her.
I might still be around Sparta,
waiting for her to turn that corner.
And Zeus will never stop me.
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 1:17 AM UTC
It is said in the ancient text she was conceived in ******
When the Titan Cronus drew his father Uranus’s blood, dead he forever be
The wife of a dark Vulcan Hephaestus, mother to the cherub of love
Legends say she rose from Poseidon’s emerald seas.
From salty heather foam in the waters of Pathos,
That lap the white shores of the isle of Cyprus did she rise
Though Homer on this fact would disagree
Striking jealousy in the hearts of the haughty gods
And filling Adonis eyes according to Greek lore
Half the year she favored him with her sweet love
Though she shared him with Persephone goddess of the Underworld
Until the day he died in her arms when slew by a wild boar
Her beauty forced the sun in its wonder to look away
And frightened the shy round moon into hiding
On new mornings she took the gilded reins in lace covered hands
And in her mystical swan drawn car
Upon a fine day through the air went a gliding
She would curse those who neglected to adore her
In her fury punished those who strayed from worships path
And on the warrior Menelaus in his quest for Helen of Troy
The Goddess would vent her vengeance and wrath
Her crest was that of love and beauty
Full of passion and fertility was she graced
Oh Aphrodite
Once gazed upon by the eyes of man
Never again could his mortal love sate.
All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby February 12, 2020.
All Material Stored in Author Base
Feb 26, 2020
Feb 26, 2020 at 12:59 PM UTC