"olympians" poems
As the semester closes,
Exams are stressing our minds.
To help us relax and not stress(as much),
let us pray to the 12 Olympians.
To Athena, grant us the wisdom required.
To Apollo, let our knowledge shine brighter than before.
To Zeus, help our marks swore to the skies.
To Poseidon, don't let our grades fall deep into the seas.
To Demeter, let us take our exam naturally.
To Ares, that we win the *Exam war without* bloodshed.
To Aphrodite, gives us the marks we desire.
To Hephaestus, help us forge perfect study notes.
To Artemis, may our heads be a full moon.
To Dionysus, let our freedom be sweeter than your grapes.
And to Hera ... ... please don't turn me into a peacock for not having a pun for you.
Best of luck to all, may the Olympians help us get through our exams
And may the odds be ever in your favour.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
Twelve Olympians, to rule as they choose.
Twelve Olympians, we'll start with Zeus.
God of sky, thunder, lightning, law.
Ruled the Olympians with the justice he saw.
Commonly referred to as the Father.
Next is Poseidon, God of Water.
"A tamer of horses and a saviour of ships,"
Said in one of Homer's hymns.
Next is Hera, Queen of the Gods, and of women.
Giving mothers a carriage, and marriage to men.
Next is Demeter, Goddess of Harvest, giving fertility.
Hades captured her daughter, Persephone, and her virginity.
Then there's Athena, Goddess of Wisdom.
Lept out of Zeus' head, and earned her throne in the kingdom.
Apollo is next, God of Music, Poetry, Light.
Also capable of bringing plague and plight.
Artemis, Goddess of Moon and Hunt, and Apollo's twin.
Guided mothers through childbirth, a sacred ******
Also, beloved Aphrodite, Goddess of Love.
Lover of Ares, who favored battles and blood.
Only Hephaestus and Aphrodite were wed.
Fire, metalwork, art of sculpture he led.
Also, there's Hermes, a god bringing word.
Among other things, guide to the Underworld.
Finally, there's Hesta, Goddess of the Hearth.
Feeding families and serving the home with warmth.
Twelve Olympians, to rule the sky.
Twelve Olympians, give your memory a try.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 9:10 PM UTC
Long ago, on my
unpatriotic ways,
with anger patriots
turned ablaze.
They ill-treated me
with words of abuse,
even classes on patriotism
was of no use.
One day patriotic
tonic I drank.
It made all the difference,
to be frank.
Now professor of patriotism
I've become.
To hear my lectures
many patriots come.
And before my patriotism inspires
enemies of North and West
and before my nationalism
they easily bear and digest
and before Chinese
people of the North
have understood my
patriotic lecture's worth
and before their Olympians
represent Nation of mine
and before we get medals
in abundance this time
and before Pakistanis
decide to turn traitors at once,
inspired by my patriotic views
and my eloquence
and before Indians use golden
words for me to describe
and before my name
in history they inscribe
and before people start
giving me much respect
and before my big and
large statues they *****
and before my replicas
and dolls are put on sale
and before I start competing with
likes of Gandhi and Patel
and before this poetry
becomes too patriotic to comprehend
with slogan 'Jai Hind ' this patriotic
poetry must come to an end.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 9:36 PM UTC
Thirty six years after they last were held in pre-war Berlin
The games of the Olympiad were all set to begin
This time though, in Munich, set to host the sports worlds greatest show
It was the night before the opening, and all were set to go
August 26th, the games did start and all was going well
But ten days in, the world was shook, and Munich was now a hell
Where terrorists changed how the world would see these famous games
From that date on, The Olympic world, would never be the same
Mark Spitz, that year, set records as he won seven swimming golds
Olga Korbut, elfin princess, stole our hearts with moves so bold
Frank Shorter won the marathon for America, and he was German born
But, Munich's games are famous for the actions, that September morn
Close your eyes, remember back, if you are of the age
Remember those victorious, who were outstanding on that stage
Steve Prefontaine, he came up short, Lasse Viren, he did what he set to do
Think back now to that late summer day in nineteen seventy two
Eyes closed, still remember....David Berger, Mark Slavin and Kehatt Shorr
Seew Friedman, Josef Gutfreund,Elieser Halfin, and you know there is five more
Josef Romano, Amizur Shapira, not tweaking any pictures in your mind,
Andre Spitzer, Jaakow Springer, Mosche Weinberger...any memories do you find?
These men all were Olympians, judges, coaches, athletes, refs
September 5th is now famous, it's remembered for their deaths
They all should be remembered, for their lives, for why they came
They all reached the highest level, they had made it to The Games
Did they ever win a medal ? Would they ever get their glory?
They're remembered as a victim, unfortunately that's their story
It's 40 years on, London hosts, The IOC does not
Take a single minute, give these Olympians a thought
Now close your eyes again and think, could that happen once again
Could terrorists take Olympic lives, could they come and **** like then
Now if I repeat all the names I mentioned, you may not see their face
But, for one short shining moment, please put them in their earned space
Eyes closed, still remember....David Berger, Mark Slavin and Kehatt Shorr
Seew Friedman, Josef Gutfreund,Elieser Halfin, and you know there is five more
Josef Romano, Amizur Shapira, not tweaking any pictures in your mind,
Andre Spitzer, Jaakow Springer, Mosche Weinberger...any memories do you find?
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 4:43 PM UTC
Journeys rendered dateless,
Unending,
Wayward and extending out,
Round the compass points --
Dizzying aspiration to cease this race,
To slow my sprinting soul,
This pace splintering, in exhaustion.
Expiring breath of hope or of home
Evaporated in a distance
Vanishing and
Disconnected.
Drifting
On trackless tides, across
Labyrinthine depths,
Within the vast heart
Of the world
I cannot run from.
Yet, I moved to and between
The center or its peripherals, in
Singular or collectives,
Seeking pattern and
Drawing connectives –-
Brushing by and
Bustling among
People
Entranced In their own
Objectives.
I watched their movements
And their exchanges,
I heard their rituals and
Invocations.
In all these transitions,
They have no inkling
That their seemingly trite
Lives merely manifest
The epic motifs of the heavens!
Our imaginations mirror
The vitality of the gods!
We are as immortal as they!
Our simple, sensual stories
Are also enduring legends
Unfolding,
As our pages turn,
Our flags are unfurling!
Just as our fellow
Olympians of old
Engaged in a marathon of
Endeavor to heights
Unimagined!
From those mystic days
Since Orpheus’ ardent lyre
Sang notes
Of Nature’s divinity, Her
Eternal sweetness.
We need only sense that
It is in Nature’s essence
We are sharing.
With her, we are joined in
An undying marriage,
A unified pairing –
Our human heritage,
Our dignified bearing.
We share in that song,
We share in that sweetness,
We share in that race,
We share in Her immanence.
This journey is our own.
It goes on, unending!
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 1:11 PM UTC
you were downstairs, fiddling with the cobwebs and speaking in Arachnid.
your summer dress, mangled in summer, a tattered fringe of creek stain and acrid
you were there and you were absent.
off in another world, more Victorian than Akron.
you had two black thumbs that killed plants
that never asked for it.
and a plush toy named ' ask again '
you were downstairs, and i was loitering in fictions i could never sell to Olympians.
shred a tear, mend an eye,
paint fences.
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 12:10 PM UTC
Pods routed back and forth
Inside
Cells linked to the central nervous system
Soulless
The cry of a sapling
Lush, primal sounds
But deaf to the neighbours
All distracted by a stream
A tweet
"Doors closing..."
Repeated beeps
Launching sprints
Rivalling Olympians
But not all pass the finish line
The end of the line:
School
Work
Leisure
Three modes activated
Upon the opening of pod doors
A hurry
Never stopping
Never hearing
Never open
Of hearts
Wallets
A song from yesterday
The flower withers
Pulp for pennies
The flower withers
Only so much could be done
Outside the system
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 11:17 PM UTC
My teacher, during the class said
"Women are Paralympians".
I had never heard a truer sentence.
Oct 11, 2021
Oct 11, 2021 at 7:06 AM UTC
If everybody were naked
Nobody could make fun of my style
I would never be outdated.
I could go to parties with a smile.
Also when I live naked
Laundry bill can never go high.
I go jump into the shower
Suddenly I am a clean living guy.
Of course your clothing
Never gets sunburned
And nobody laughs at your zipper.
If you are the only
Person who’s naked
You look like a mescaline tripper.
But if everyone got naked
We might do away with all war
Because there would be little
That seems worth arguing for.
With all the women naked
There would be an end to their hose.
And girdles out of the question.
They’d be as natural as a spring rose.
But one must be careful.
A park bench can pinch
And hot car seats can burn.
Living **** has problems
But like everything else
It just more lessons one must learn.
But think about politics naked;
All those liars up on a public stage.
Without their expensive suits
Would they still manage to engage?
Olympians played naked.
Soldiers used to fight naked too.
Not sure what point I am making
But I think it means something, don’t you?
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
Beautiful lofty things; O'Leary's noble head;
My father upon the Abbey stage, before him a raging crowd.
"This Land of Saints", and then as the applause died out,
"Of plaster Saints"; his beautiful mischievous head thrown back.
Standish O'Grady supporting himself between the tables
Speaking to a drunken audience high nonsensical words;
Augusta Gregory seated at her great ormolu table
Her eightieth winter approaching; "Yesterday he threatened my life,
I told him that nightly from six to seven I sat at this table
The blinds drawn up"; Maud Gonne at Howth station waiting a train,
Pallas Athena in that straight back and arrogant head;
All the Olympians; a thing never known again.
1.8k
Life is the greatest killer of all.
Cancer. Sickness. ******
Wellness to illness, function to dysfunction:
Two sides of the same coin toss.
The greatest civil rebellion lasted
122 years, give or take, yet
In all the struggle few realize that the true oppressor
Is always enslaved to a certain animal within.
Our ancestors die, our rivals die, our sisters die,
We've been choosing death all along.
Look at our blood: from tree to house to ash
And mammal to mammal to dirt to memory.
All things before the sun, that great heap of ******
Will have the color drained from them.
The great white is an event
Of the great blackness. And when it explodes . . .
And there's a lesson to be told here,
Call it 1.1.
There is a lucky infinity
Of the few who, unlike us, life
Didn't take them, and there is a growing infinity
Of us the many who death will take. I fear
That there will be a great war
To ruin the eternities that dot the night skies,
The Olympians. I fear a great war
Where infinite darkness both ways
Will finally collapse -
And us in the middle, the living,
This star chained away
By space and time and
The magnificence of its light,
Breathing away every last drop -
Will fail,
And the big black bang will stretch out in both ways
As a final **** you to existence.
And that'll be the end of it.
Sep 21, 2025
Sep 21, 2025 at 4:25 PM UTC
Gaia slammed the door and threw her phone across the room.
Her lover Humanity has done it again--
and again, and again.
That broken mess of a love with so much baggage,
it makes the raunchiest Olympians look like Astrea.
All night out, and Humanity ruins and disappoints,
once more.
Gaia screams into a pillow of earth in frustration.
Uranus thinks she's melodramatic,
But how can the Sky sympathize with the Earth?
And how in turn can the Earth fall so wholeheartedly,
for a destroyer?
Who once more in turn, tries in vain, but will never
understand the complexity of it's own round habitat-lover.
So Gaia is left confused and hurt, though Humanity swears,
it never meant to hurt her; break her into pieces,
and turn from a collective of voices to Narcissus himself.
She sighs.
Perhaps next week will be different?
The texts between the two so hit or miss and fickle,
Only Fates could read what lies behind the tension.
An Aletia moth flits in and out the window,
and suddenly the butterfly poster on Gaia's wall feels pathetic.
An imitation of her own work.
Perhaps next week will be different?
Perhaps Zeus will vow celibacy,
perhaps the sky will fall into the sea,
and we'll all be mercifully crushed in between.
But what crushes is reality, and as Gaia falls asleep,
the phone lights up.
Humanity: "Drinks again next Thursday?"
The same empty connection repeated ceaselessly.
One generation on to the next until the last.
And of course Pandora's curse,
keeps Gaia suffering through them all.
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 12:03 AM UTC
As I walked by the Water front, I make eye contact with a beached Nymph.
She’s suffocating, She can’t sing for mercy.
I remain cautious, for I am as gullible as a fish.
Maybe Evolution will start a new Revolution.
I followed a Gardner through the concrete forest.
Greeting fellow wanderers,
I’m hoping for something unexpected.
I strive to be accepted.
For twenty four hours, to sleep I say, “Good night".
With the time I’m given. What is it that I’m trying to prove?
I carry garbage in my pocket. I spend my money’s worth
on poisons that I’ve grown immune.
The sweet blue dust is transported from the looking glass to my body mass with the help of the All Seeing Eye and Father Washington.
A Black Cat crossed My path, An arachnid bit My eye lid, a flea hoped onto my knee, the needle purchased My plasma, My shoes stole my sole.
I became dizzy searching for Alexie. Imaging a world with only Half A Sky. Questioning My idea of reality.
With these eyes, I want to comprehend the fine print, in between the lines, as plain as black and white.
TJW 2013
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 3:09 AM UTC
Time begins to run together,
several Olympians spread out.
And in their rushing they ford the same pace,
forge the same face,
until just one runner runs the race...
Thus time runs together.
Its followers cease to worship difference,
for they find none.
The farmer is as his absent crop: absent.
And the river boats between the reeds, empty of its fisherman.
Today is similar to its precursor
we call yesterday.
Tomorrow is just as uninspiring.
I break the legs of completed things
and projects are idle in the sky.
For time runs together
and change does nowhere play its game.
The same living room window holds the same, repeated light.
Jul 20, 2011
Jul 20, 2011 at 1:41 AM UTC
A Game of superior gametes,
My 46ers in the race to conceive
A business/economic Theory of Warfare
To guarantee/certify myn own survival
For my 23ers --> The Olympic Swimmers!
If the potentiality of Life in the Multi-verse
Is obviously a sure thing,
Then it's Intelligent Life-forms
That are the abnormally; an abomination
To an empty Entity interested only in
Inflicting pain and suffering and misery to the Masses;
Perhaps justifiably, perhaps not...who cares?
It's not Nature's way --> She is indifferent,
But not unaware of One species
Destroying essential habitat for no lasting reward.
She is here now - be careful! We need
To re:think our primary endeavours;
Let's try to ameliorate the damage;
Conserve what little's left whilst
Not foreclosing the whole kit and caboodle:
Sustainable resourcing without guilt.
A Quadruple bottom line, with a different foci -->
People and Environment over Time and Wherewithal.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 3:43 PM UTC
Good Luck to the worlds OLYMPIANS in Sochi ,Ru.
you are already our winners !!!!!!have fun thats what it is really all about, the medals are the prize. Just being there is an honor and life time experience. congrats and good luck to all !!!!!!!!!!!
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 10:11 PM UTC
Only the might survive
Olympians, they triumph with great battle cries,
challenging all who dare to test their strength
The wounded retreat to safety
They are the lucky ones
Seeking shelter as the storms blow in
Clouds mask the stars above
And wishful minds are bitter to give in
In the field, a girl lies curiously
She is alone, but never sought
an arm or a chest to sleep upon
At least, never from me
But I am tired now, I never learned to swim
For the night I sleep on the raft
And wait until I wake from this dream
when the beauty fades into memory
And I return to the city, to dream
Of sleeping again someday
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 1:11 AM UTC
The heavy haze of a steamy summer evening
bares down on my chest
I gasp for each little breath
Leaning on sorrow
I Reach around to unveil the cup that we couldn’t fill
And my shame cloaks me
Like an Olympians bronze
I wear doubt like a soldiers badge of honor
Marching into war
A war we couldn’t fight
The demons we couldn’t tame
The harm we couldn’t sow
And I found you there
Like the first ray of sun on the very first seed
Like a dancers first stage
Like artists first pen
Like the sunrises first sunset
And we tangled in each others fingers
And played hand in hand
And tiptoed on the edge of freedom
But we were haunted by the choices that had come before
But we never let that shadow
The unsteady amour of our broken hearts
And we never let the emptiness that the night brought
Swallows us
And for a moment we forgot ourselves
And we danced in the merriment of each other thoughts
Laughing at each others regrets
And patiently waited to orchestrate our own
And Then we remembered..
Rushing to Button up our collars
we head back onto our designated sides
“Don’t forget to softly close the unhinged door”
Tomorrow I will seek safety in the comfort of your hands
But tonight we must gather each other up
And linger on sleep.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 8:32 PM UTC
Our corner graveyard
Looks so inviting,
The lawns are cut,
There's solar lighting.
A wrought-iron gate
Is freshly painted,
Shade trees shelter
Graves of the innocent.
The Italians built a mausoleum,
Where pictures of their deceased greet them,
Looking full of vim and joy
At having pictures taken.
Beneath the temples, in the crypts,
Celtic crosses and brass plaques,
Olympians and outcasts,
All professions, our world's best,
Lie wasting just like us,
In their oak, brass-handled coffins.
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 9:20 AM UTC
On the last, icy, breaths of December 2012,
I found a wounded sparrow,
who had mistaken glass for freedom.
The tiny neck was askew,
but the heart still fluttered against my palm.
I thought, for a moment, of ending his misery,
but the idea of bludgeoning the fragile skull,
or twisting the brittle neck,
turned my stomach sour.
I brought him home in a kleenex nest,
moved him to a basked of pine, lined with rags.
Tried to coax a few seeds and drops of water
into the tiny beak,
but to little avail.
He died new years eve, with the last breath of the old year,
and I buried the stiff body
in the garden with the dead rose bushes.
Had I, like the ancient greeks, believed in bird signs
I might have taken it as an ill omen,
run screaming to the oracle,
demanding what misfortune was to befall me,
with the first gasp of January.
But, like Achilles, I put more stock in my own two hands
than the silver-plated fingertips of Olympians.
And with that first cry of the new year,
came fates I could not have imagined,
no matter how many feathers and fates I followed.
Misfortune, of course, made her customary visit,
and stayed longer than expected.
But Joy did not shun my door,
and, by good fortune, stayed longer than her bitter sister.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 2:24 PM UTC
Once he was mighty, once enlightened; he has now been left alone to cower beneath the weight
The Titanomachia of endurance, the man of all daring deeds, the astronomer of the Heaven's
Many names fill the world of which he could be called, but only one fulfills what he truly is
Said to have lead the mightiest of roles, into a raging battle upon the people within the stars
Or so the storyline is told; he was a stout hearted child, but would very soon be a broken man
His wandering gaze flickers upon the stars in the flooding of the black universe's night sky
The man's tears have been diluted with the caked dirt upon his strained and lined face
Punished for the crimes in which he believed was righteous, his duty to his brother's service
But he was wrong , and thoroughly punished for his heinous deeds against the Olympians
For eternity, bade to hold Uranus away from the seeking sights of the creatures called humans
Holding up, holding so tightly, and his fingers begun to slip out of their clenching grasp
Unfurling endured fingers, he wonders if the right thing would be to let it all fall down into Hell
To Hell with it all, to Hell with this world, To Hell with Humanity
Letting his fingers slip from their gnarled grip upon the edges of existence, an inch at a time
Minute by minute, he could feel the crumbling edges of both their worlds, realigning themselves
His muscles; thus were forever deemed to scream in agony, to hold the weight for eternity
And his punishment by Zeus severely claimed; never to let the bonds of either worlds break
Piecing themselves back together, in their rightful places, the weight began to lighten
But this man was a trickster at heart, his fingers slowly unhinged themselves from their steely grip
If the sky should slip any further, the worlds both below and above should perish,
The weight of existence grows heavily with each passing day, all was on his shoulders
And he knew it
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 4:25 PM UTC
We will deign on rose petals as silence suffocates us
Yet we will not whisper, nor will we weep
We must enjoy the last breath that’s ours to keep.
Dead in the heart
Dead in the soul
Because you won’t pay death’s deadly toll!
Grave robber, grave robber,
Please leave us our thrones
Lest we gnaw on our own finger bones.
Rub mud in your eyes;
It won’t make you see
Soiled and blind is all you can be.
Don’t you ever come,
Cry and plead
I’ll give no more answers, guaranteed.
It was all for you
That we sacrificed our life
But please go on and cause more pain and strife!
I have the army
But you still denied
That you continue to fight for your pride…
Twisting, choking
Bruising, burning
Pushing, biting and finger-turning.
We’re the Olympians
Daughter and Son
Hear our mute roar and in terror; run.
Flee in the night.
Rob our graves. Run.
You coward, you fool. You exodus of one.
Oct 10, 2011
Oct 10, 2011 at 3:11 AM UTC
Once in a lifetime
Team GB
No >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> it is not just the Olympians
That will make it
It is people
Just like you
and me
Find them there seats
Make sure the have there 3D glasses
Forget all the contra verse
So sit back
And enjoy
With me
The thing that is the Olympics
On channel 1 2 3
But always
The best pictures
are on the BBC
Jul 27, 2012
Jul 27, 2012 at 2:41 PM UTC
Artists and Athletes to these Numbers bind
And no more could such Cross-Feelings exact
By Pen, Brush or Note we exploit the Mind
Through Land, Sea and Air you employ the Rack
Either way, our Skills classify the Mage
And Family the Unit must Magnify
Yet - as Bratty Ambition plagues our Cake
Such Blessed Market plomb your Qualify
What more have we got? Save our Printed Creeds
Compare those Olympians we can't compete
For Sponsors promote; And Patrons at-beads
Whether which Craft will Supply or Deplete.
It depends. Since Nativity-of-Space
Where all Lights are spread; Which most Fame is based.
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 9:21 AM UTC
I have not loved you like an earthly creature
but worshipped like God with incessant
offerings and prayers,
How can you turn me down?
I have faith and heart and hope
and love in you,
Yet you keep beguiling me showing
different dreams,
Are you also one of the Greek Olympians?
Feb 10, 2021
Feb 10, 2021 at 3:17 PM UTC