"minos" poems
Behold that great Plotinus swim,
Buffeted by such seas;
Bland Rhadamanthus beckons him,
But the Golden Race looks dim,
Salt blood blocks his eyes.
Scattered on the level grass
Or winding through the grove
plato there and Minos pass,
There stately Pythagoras
And all the choir of Love.
2.8k
King Minos,
Spited by the God of Oceans,
Hesitated but a while
Before poor Pasiphae's bull-headed son
Was penned inside the labyrinth,
And then, as if to throw away the key,
Inventor Daedalus and his dear son
Were for their work a prison tower fee'd.
But they grew wings, for as we know,
An inventor's work is never done...
If only Icarus had listened
And kept a proper place below the sun,
Breugel's painting would have lost
Its distant splashy focal point;
The plowman and the shepherd would
Have stood alone above a perfect sea.
Old Minos never had a chance,
And though the cunning Hunter,
(He, who found the man who
Made a string crawl curving
Through a shell behind an ant),
Had won... decided to disrobe
And take a dip...a foolish act
To choose when Daedalus
Would serve a hot revenge.
Daedalus, who knew the score,
Burned wood to make the water soar;
In vengeance vented spiteful wrath,
And cooked old Minos in his bath.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
I'm tired of twisting in my days
Looking for a thin straight line
The Minotaur looked at me
I could see the Theseus
there upon his mind
The labyrinth is not the same
It's turned into a maze
I have no more reasons now
I must be on my way
So the Minotaur made reservations
The Mediterranean
Is nice this time of year
He flew tourist class
With a herd of after Christmas deer
Minos called and made his request
Come back this instance
Was his plea
But the Minotaur was bullheaded about it
There's more to this than you , it's me
So the Minotaur stayed upon his beach
Never regretting making the call
Trapped inside our living labyrinth
Is one maze too tall
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 9:23 AM UTC
Florida
relaxing beaches
really cool animals in the water
a lot of minos
turquoise waters
salt water beaches
a lot of people at
there beaches
really really really pretty
Florida
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 9:04 AM UTC
The seashore is full of life.
The birds swoop down to peck through the sand, finding bugs on their way.
The minos swim beneath your feet as you take your first steps into the warm water of the Atlantic.
Your toes sink into the wet rocky sand.
As you wade deeper into the water, just above your knees, the sudden rush of cold strikes.
The waves burst onto your face, bringing along the salty taste of sea water.
Oh, what is this? A sharp object pierces your toe. Why it's only the shell of oyster, rough and browned with sediment.
You toss it into the distance and watch its puddle echo as the sun slowly sets with brilliant reds and oranges.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 1:17 PM UTC
De todos los laberintos el mejor
es el que no conduce a nada
y ni siquiera va sembrando indicios
ya que aquellos otros
esos pocos que llevan a alguna parte
siempre terminan en la fosa común
así que lo mejor es continuar vagando
entre ángulos rectos y mixtilíneos
pasadizos curvos o sinuosos
meandros existenciales / doctrinas en zigzag
remansos del amor / veredas del desquite
en obstinada búsqueda de lo inhallable
y si en algún momento se avizora
la salida prevista o imprevista
lo más aconsejable es retroceder
y meterse de nuevo y de lleno
en el dédalo que es nuestro refugio
después de todo el laberinto es
una forma relativamente amena
de aplazar cualquier postrimería
el laberinto / además de trillada metáfora
frecuentada por borges y otros aventajados
discípulos y acólitos del rey minos
es simplemente eso / un laberinto /
cortázar se quejaba / entre otras cosas /
de que ya no hubiera laberintos
pero qué sino un laberinto
es su rayuela descreída y fértil
forzado a elegir entre los más renombrados
digamos los laberintos de creta samos y fayum
me quedo con el de los cuentos de mi abuela
que no dejaba vislumbrar ninguna escapatoria
en verdad en verdad os digo que la única fórmula
para arrendar la esquiva eternidad
es no salir jamás del laberinto
o sea seguir dudando y bifurcándose y titubeando
o más bien simulando dudas bifurcaciones y titubeos
a fin de que los leviatanes se confundan
así y todo el laberinto es tabla de salvación
para aquellos que tienen vocación de inmortales
el único inconveniente es que la eternidad /
como bien deben saberlo el padre eterno
y su cohorte de canonizados /
suele ser mortalmente aburrida
999
The Greeks had three Gods — Aeacus, Minos and Rhadamanthus– Whose sole job was to judge those who had died, usually deciding upon their punishment as well. According to legend, they were originally men but were related to Zeus. Zeus is said to have credited them with law and order on Earth while human, so when they died they were made demigods and allowed to preside over much of the underworld. Aeacus was supposed to be the one who judged souls who came from Europe, and Rhadamanthus judged those who came from the continent of Asia. Their fellow judge Minos had the final vote in all cases. While we know that after death they guarded Hades, there is little known about what happened during their lives on Earth.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 1:51 PM UTC
Gods walk among the mortals this day
Ares, our lord, broke his chains
The spirit of war marches against us
But he trained his children well
His sons too walk the fields
My brothers and I hear their whispers
And their promises are true, but alas
We have spoken at length before
Thanos and Hermes are about
I expect to meet their master soon
Nix has taken early claim today
Have we angered the Twins?
Perhaps, and so I pray
The crippled god takes pity and hold us
At least ‘till now his works have held
Their clash sounds Eris’ laughter
Black clouds and savage tides break
Upon walls and stakes of bronze
Sick and stagnant the flesh lies
(The carrion birds do not like the shade)
Watered by barbarian’s red ichor
But we too bleed – I swear it flows gold!
Brother after brother kneels, cloaks re-dyed
And we step forth, walls remade again
Soon my shield will be used to patch
And then – How should Minos judge?
What warrior could take Elysium?
No, I have spilt too much blood
Asphodel? An eternity in the dark…
It could well be the Pit, behind bronze walls
An irony of fate, and perhaps appropriate
In truth, I yearn for the Lethe…
A break in the wall, a brother fallen
I offer forth my spear, then patch it
Around me, iron faces, beyond pain
Beyond fear, our backs to our families
Bearing the scars of our devotion
They did not break us, but forged us
So come, bring Hell’s fires
A good death is its own reward
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 8:37 PM UTC
I know you've heard of RINOs,
Perhaps you've heard of DINOs,
Some Christians are called CINOs,
Are those men mere MINOs.
Women become WINOs
(the irony doesn't escape me though)
Humans evolved to HINOs;
Friends are friends
I'll never call them FINOs.
Avoid lovers who are LINOs,
And teachers who are TINOs.
Could a Jew be a JINO?
But make no mistake:
Terrorists are Terrorists,
Jihadists are Jihadists,
Haters are Haters,
War mongers are war mongers,
Liars lie.
It's We thePeople, PINOs.
Mar 31, 2024
Mar 31, 2024 at 11:20 AM UTC
Mon fils, disait un jour Jupiter à Minos,
Toi qui juges la race humaine,
Explique-moi pourquoi l'enfer suffit à peine
Aux nombreux criminels que t'envoie Atropos.
Quel est de la vertu le fatal adversaire
Qui corrompt à ce point la faible humanité ?
C'est, je crois, l'intérêt. - L'intérêt ? Non, mon père.
- Et qu'est-ce donc ? - l'oisiveté.
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i see the little fish
thier gills, shining in the water
the mino’s and the baby seals
the penguins and the otters
i see the little minos
so hopeless in the water
surely they will never be
an adult or a father
yet, i keep coming back again
and surely, their they are
determination stronger than man
i know they'll make it far
i wish i was a mino,
a little mino in the water
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 11:11 PM UTC
when reading of icarus i
cannot help but fear the crushing weight of king minos combined with the over-zealous
wit of daedalus.
for icarus was perhaps too prideful;
met with a moment of weakness;
adrenaline coursing through his veins;
and a sheer loss of control
blinded by the highest point of the sun
in a blooming sky.
perhaps even he failed
to head his father’s warning
as the burning wax of his wings
melted upon his shoulders.
yet king minos sentenced daedalus
and too his son,
who later fell to the fate of his father’s own design.
not once
but twice.
not once,
but twice -
but twice,
but twice a child
returned with confidence
to his father.
and the ringing in my head still continues to be that the child is not to blame for
the sins of the father.
the child does not carry
the sins of the father.
so it goes that in the end
daedalus was granted athena’s wings ever-soaring.
perhaps in grief;
perhaps in empathy;
perhaps by the grace of a woman’s forgiving touch.
but icarus still drowned in the spring.
and the ploughing of the fields
remained uninterrupted as his scorched
waxen body fell into
the jowls of the sea.
Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 6:00 AM UTC
The Phoenician explained the contents of the letter
Rose through the sand, should have brought sophisticated research
Castles near Alexandria breathed through the Rafael among many a patrons' painting
Icarus falls leisurely on my mind, except the wings look like hot wax
Measured by affluence, wandered the battlefield
Nevermind the clothes, and the shelter was in abundance
In my mind, it would probably be romantic and precarious
Closer to my eyes, the labyrinth unfolded
Brushing past crowds serenaded in my broken memory
Daedalus, I need you to heed my tears right now
Wipe the ink from the blood and sweat of invention
Miserable in your powerful intellect, Minos' knights bring death
Icarus never appalled me, paled in comparison to the living
An old rhyme followed the time in memoriam of my brother Icarus
Timeo danaos et dona ferentes
Break the statue, and find your favoritism in Apollo
Melt like the ephemeral wind
Jun 25, 2019
Jun 25, 2019 at 3:45 PM UTC
The Phoenician explained the contents of the letter
Rose through the sand, should have brought sophisticated research
Castles near Alexandria breathed through the Rafael among many a patrons' painting
Icarus falls leisurely on my mind, except the wings look like hot wax
Measured by affluence, wandered the battlefield
Nevermind the clothes, and the shelter was in abundance
In my mind, it would probably be romantic and precarious
Closer to my eyes, the labyrinth unfolded
Brushing past crowds serenaded in my broken memory
Daedalus, I need you to heed my tears right now
Wipe the ink from the blood and sweat of invention
Miserable in your powerful intellect, Minos' knights bring death
Icarus never appalled me, paled in comparison to the living
An old rhyme followed the time in memoriam of my brother Icarus
Beware of Greeks bearing gifts
Break the statue, and find your favoritism in Apollo
Melt like the ephemeral wind
Jun 25, 2019
Jun 25, 2019 at 1:55 PM UTC
Minos, ne pouvant plus suffire
Au fatigant métier d'entendre et de juger
Chaque ombre descendue au ténébreux empire,
Imagina, pour abréger,
De faire faire une balance
Où dans l'un des bassins il mettait à la fois
Cinq ou six morts, dans l'autre un certain poids
Qui déterminait la sentence.
Si le poids s'élevait, alors plus à loisir
Minos examinait l'affaire ;
Si le poids baissait au contraire,
Sans scrupule il faisait punir.
La méthode était sûre, expéditive et claire ;
Minos s'en trouvait bien. Un jour, en même temps,
Au bord du Styx la mort rassemble
Deux rois, un grand ministre, un héros, trois savants.
Minos les fait peser ensemble.
Le poids s'élève, il en met deux,
Et puis trois, c'est en vain ; quatre ne font pas mieux.
Minos, un peu surpris, ôte de la balance
Ces inutiles poids, cherche un autre moyen ;
Et, près de là voyant un pauvre homme de bien
Qui dans un coin obscur attendait en silence,
Il le met seul en contrepoids :
Les six ombres alors s'élèvent à la fois.
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Peste
J'hiberne jusqu'à ce qu'il soit temps, perfide,
Limpide
Contemplez-moi, impies,
Le jour du jugement est ici !
Courez par centaines,
Car seule la quarantaine
Peut vous soigner.
Peut vous sauver,
Seul l'exil
De la prévisibilité infernale de la ville
J'ai arraché les pétales de toutes les fleurs
Des cloches sonnent à toutes les heures
Pour ceux qui sont malades de pleurs,
Que ne peuvent soigner aucun docteur.
Je rempli les terroirs,
Je gratte les fumoirs
Je suis le tout,
Je suis le fou
Guerre
Je suis le vouloir
Je suis le pouvoir
Mourrez sous la loi martiale
Souffrez de la vie impartiale
Macabre moulin à viande tendre
Dans un champ fertilisé à la cendre
Le Minos des temps modernes,
Que l'on nourrit de notre jeunesse
Consomme, vorace comme en ivresse
Consume nos amis et nos frères,
Salit nos soeurs et nos terres
Les mains tachées du sang des atrocités
Que l'on regrette un fois revenue la lucidité
Personne ne nous détruits mieux que nous-même
Personne n'a jamais été sauvé dès son baptême
Je tue les espoirs
Je vole les avoirs
Je suis lucide,
Livide
Famine
Je suis le rat dans les geôles
Je n'ai plus de contrôle
Même si je fuis ailleurs,
On me ronge de l'intérieur !
Sauvez-moi de cet insatiable creux !
Je salive de tous mes yeux
À la vue de nourritures fines
Dont je suis en manque, j'imagine
La vie n'est que désirs,
Bonheur, l'excès et son plaisir
Que ne ferait pas un homme pour ne pas rater son train
Quand il se meurt, et qu'on lui promet un bout de pain ?
Que ne ferait pas un homme quand il est seul et qu'il a faim
Quand de l'intérieur il meurt, et qu'il besoin de soin ?
Je vide les armoires,
Je gratte les contoires
Je suis le vide
Je suis l'avide
Mort
La limpide clarté
La déchirante pureté
De la puissante nature,
Et de ses créatures
Les plus virtueuses,
Les plus malicieuses.
Célèbre dramaturge,
J'ai ce désir de purge,
De soulager des siècles d'agonie
Et ainsi cloître le cycle de la vie
Rien n'est aussi grandiose qu'un dernier coup de théâtre
Quand on est seule dans le silence de l'audience à l'amphithéâtre
Bien petite compensation pour avoir réprimé ses désirs
Que de pouvoir rêver un peu avant d'enfin s'endormir
Je vide les boudoirs
J'écarte le doute de revoir
Je meurs d’ennui, je suis mort,
Je meurtris la vie, je suis la mort
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 7:24 PM UTC
When I heard people talk about Minotaur's they would always be wrong,
they would say his lower half took the shape of a bull, his upper a man,
if you thought this too don't worry it's a common misconception,
they would say he was created because Pasiphae fell for a bull,
although that is half right it is still wrong,
the Minotaur was a creature who's body was human and held the head of a bull,
he wasn't created just because Pasiphae fell for a bull,
he was created because Minos didn't sacrifice the bull Poseidon sent,
Poseidon forced Pasiphae to lust over the bull as punishment and bare its child,
the Minotaur was created in spite because Poseidon failed to get his way,
he was locked away and labeled as a 'Monster' just because he was different,
when one of Minos three children were killed he ordered 7 Athenian youths and maidens to be sacrificed to the Minotaur each year,
the Minotaur never asked for any of that, he was luck enough to get a name,
sure he was different but he was still a kid, he deserved the right to live like the rest,
in a home, with a bed, food, and family,
he didn't deserve to be feared and hidden away,
I'm happy Theseus slayed him, for he no longer had to live that life of misery.
Aug 28, 2024
Aug 28, 2024 at 10:01 PM UTC