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V. TO APHRODITE (293 lines)

(ll. 1-6) Muse, tell me the deeds of golden Aphrodite the
Cyprian, who stirs up sweet passion in the gods and subdues the
tribes of mortal men and birds that fly in air and all the many
creatures that the dry land rears, and all the sea: all these
love the deeds of rich-crowned Cytherea.

(ll. 7-32) Yet there are three hearts that she cannot bend nor
yet ensnare.  First is the daughter of Zeus who holds the aegis,
bright-eyed Athene; for she has no pleasure in the deeds of
golden Aphrodite, but delights in wars and in the work of Ares,
in strifes and battles and in preparing famous crafts.  She first
taught earthly craftsmen to make chariots of war and cars
variously wrought with bronze, and she, too, teaches tender
maidens in the house and puts knowledge of goodly arts in each
one's mind.  Nor does laughter-loving Aphrodite ever tame in love
Artemis, the huntress with shafts of gold; for she loves archery
and the slaying of wild beasts in the mountains, the lyre also
and dancing and thrilling cries and shady woods and the cities of
upright men.  Nor yet does the pure maiden Hestia love
Aphrodite's works.  She was the first-born child of wily Cronos
and youngest too (24), by will of Zeus who holds the aegis, -- a
queenly maid whom both Poseidon and Apollo sought to wed.  But
she was wholly unwilling, nay, stubbornly refused; and touching
the head of father Zeus who holds the aegis, she, that fair
goddess, sware a great oath which has in truth been fulfilled,
that she would be a maiden all her days.  So Zeus the Father gave
her an high honour instead of marriage, and she has her place in
the midst of the house and has the richest portion.  In all the
temples of the gods she has a share of honour, and among all
mortal men she is chief of the goddesses.

(ll. 33-44) Of these three Aphrodite cannot bend or ensnare the
hearts.  But of all others there is nothing among the blessed
gods or among mortal men that has escaped Aphrodite.  Even the
heart of Zeus, who delights in thunder, is led astray by her;
though he is greatest of all and has the lot of highest majesty,
she beguiles even his wise heart whensoever she pleases, and
mates him with mortal women, unknown to Hera, his sister and his
wife, the grandest far in beauty among the deathless goddesses --
most glorious is she whom wily Cronos with her mother Rhea did
beget: and Zeus, whose wisdom is everlasting, made her his chaste
and careful wife.

(ll. 45-52) But upon Aphrodite herself Zeus cast sweet desire to
be joined in love with a mortal man, to the end that, very soon,
not even she should be innocent of a mortal's love; lest
laughter-loving Aphrodite should one day softly smile and say
mockingly among all the gods that she had joined the gods in love
with mortal women who bare sons of death to the deathless gods,
and had mated the goddesses with mortal men.

(ll. 53-74) And so he put in her heart sweet desire for Anchises
who was tending cattle at that time among the steep hills of
many-fountained Ida, and in shape was like the immortal gods.
Therefore, when laughter-loving Aphrodite saw him, she loved him,
and terribly desire seized her in her heart.  She went to Cyprus,
to Paphos, where her precinct is and fragrant altar, and passed
into her sweet-smelling temple.  There she went in and put to the
glittering doors, and there the Graces bathed her with heavenly
oil such as blooms upon the bodies of the eternal gods -- oil
divinely sweet, which she had by her, filled with fragrance.  And
laughter-loving Aphrodite put on all her rich clothes, and when
she had decked herself with gold, she left sweet-smelling Cyprus
and went in haste towards Troy, swiftly travelling high up among
the clouds.  So she came to many-fountained Ida, the mother of
wild creatures and went straight to the homestead across the
mountains.  After her came grey wolves, fawning on her, and grim-
eyed lions, and bears, and fleet leopards, ravenous for deer: and
she was glad in heart to see them, and put desire in their
*******, so that they all mated, two together, about the shadowy
coombes.

(ll. 75-88) (25) But she herself came to the neat-built shelters,
and him she found left quite alone in the homestead -- the hero
Anchises who was comely as the gods.  All the others were
following the herds over the grassy pastures, and he, left quite
alone in the homestead, was roaming hither and thither and
playing thrillingly upon the lyre.  And Aphrodite, the daughter
of Zeus stood before him, being like a pure maiden in height and
mien, that he should not be frightened when he took heed of her
with his eyes.  Now when Anchises saw her, he marked her well and
wondered at her mien and height and shining garments.  For she
was clad in a robe out-shining the brightness of fire, a splendid
robe of gold, enriched with all manner of needlework, which
shimmered like the moon over her tender *******, a marvel to see.

Also she wore twisted brooches and shining earrings in the form
of flowers; and round her soft throat were lovely necklaces.

(ll. 91-105) And Anchises was seized with love, and said to her:
'Hail, lady, whoever of the blessed ones you are that are come to
this house, whether Artemis, or Leto, or golden Aphrodite, or
high-born Themis, or bright-eyed Athene.  Or, maybe, you are one
of the Graces come hither, who bear the gods company and are
called immortal, or else one of those who inhabit this lovely
mountain and the springs of rivers and grassy meads.  I will make
you an altar upon a high peak in a far seen place, and will
sacrifice rich offerings to you at all seasons.  And do you feel
kindly towards me and grant that I may become a man very eminent
among the Trojans, and give me strong offspring for the time to
come.  As for my own self, let me live long and happily, seeing
the light of the sun, and come to the threshold of old age, a man
prosperous among the people.'

(ll. 106-142) Thereupon Aphrodite the daughter of Zeus answered
him: 'Anchises, most glorious of all men born on earth, know that
I am no goddess: why do you liken me to the deathless ones?  Nay,
I am but a mortal, and a woman was the mother that bare me.
Otreus of famous name is my father, if so be you have heard of
him, and he reigns over all Phrygia rich in fortresses.  But I
know your speech well beside my own, for a Trojan nurse brought
me up at home: she took me from my dear mother and reared me
thenceforth when I was a little child.  So comes it, then, that I
well know you tongue also.  And now the Slayer of Argus with the
golden wand has caught me up from the dance of huntress Artemis,
her with the golden arrows.  For there were many of us, nymphs
and marriageable (26) maidens, playing together; and an
innumerable company encircled us: from these the Slayer of Argus
with the golden wand rapt me away.  He carried me over many
fields of mortal men and over much land untilled and unpossessed,
where savage wild-beasts roam through shady coombes, until I
thought never again to touch the life-giving earth with my feet.
And he said that I should be called the wedded wife of Anchises,
and should bear you goodly children.  But when he had told and
advised me, he, the strong Slayer of Argos, went back to the
families of the deathless gods, while I am now come to you: for
unbending necessity is upon me.  But I beseech you by Zeus and by
your noble parents -- for no base folk could get such a son as
you -- take me now, stainless and unproved in love, and show me
to your father and careful mother and to your brothers sprung
from the same stock.  I shall be no ill-liking daughter for them,
but a likely.  Moreover, send a messenger quickly to the swift-
horsed Phrygians, to tell my father and my sorrowing mother; and
they will send you gold in plenty and woven stuffs, many splendid
gifts; take these as bride-piece.  So do, and then prepare the
sweet marriage that is honourable in the eyes of men and
deathless gods.'

(ll. 143-144) When she had so spoken, the goddess put sweet
desire in his heart.  And Anchises was seized with love, so that
he opened his mouth and said:

(ll. 145-154) 'If you are a mortal and a woman was the mother who
bare you, and Otreus of famous name is your father as you say,
and if you are come here by the will of Hermes the immortal
Guide, and are to be called my wife always, then neither god nor
mortal man shall here restrain me till I have lain with you in
love right now; no, not even if far-shooting Apollo himself
should launch grievous shafts from his silver bow.  Willingly
would I go down into the house of Hades, O lady, beautiful as the
goddesses, once I had gone up to your bed.'

(ll. 155-167) So speaking, he caught her by the hand.  And
laughter-loving Aphrodite, with face turned away and lovely eyes
downcast, crept to the well-spread couch which was already laid
with soft coverings for the hero; and upon it lay skins of bears
and deep-roaring lions which he himself had slain in the high
mountains.  And when they had gone up upon the well-fitted bed,
first Anchises took off her bright jewelry of pins and twisted
brooches and earrings and necklaces, and loosed her girdle and
stripped off her bright garments and laid them down upon a
silver-studded seat.  Then by the will of the gods and destiny he
lay with her, a mortal man with an immortal goddess, not clearly
knowing what he did.

(ll. 168-176) But at the time when the herdsmen driver their oxen
and hardy sheep back to the fold from the flowery pastures, even
then Aphrodite poured soft sleep upon Anchises, but herself put
on her rich raiment.  And when the bright goddess had fully
clothed herself, she stood by the couch, and her head reached to
the well-hewn roof-tree; from her cheeks shone unearthly beauty
such as belongs to rich-crowned Cytherea.  Then she aroused him
from sleep and opened her mouth and said:

(ll. 177-179) 'Up, son of Dardanus! -- why sleep you so heavily?
-- and consider whether I look as I did when first you saw me
with your eyes.'

(ll. 180-184) So she spake.  And he awoke in a moment and obeyed
her.  But when he saw the neck and lovely eyes of Aphrodite, he
was afraid and turned his eyes aside another way, hiding his
comely face with his cloak.  Then he uttered winged words and
entreated her:

(ll. 185-190) 'So soon as ever I saw you with my eyes, goddess, I
knew that you were divine; but you did not tell me truly.  Yet by
Zeus who holds the aegis I beseech you, leave me not to lead a
palsied life among men, but have pity on me; for he who lies with
a deathless goddess is no hale man afterwards.'

(ll. 191-201) Then Aphrodite the daughter of Zeus answered him:
'Anchises, most glorious of mortal men, take courage and be not
too fearful in your heart.  You need fear no harm from me nor
from the other blessed ones, for you are dear to the gods: and
you shall have a dear son who shall reign among the Trojans, and
children's children after him, springing up continually.  His
name shall be Aeneas (27), because I felt awful grief in that I
laid me in the bed of mortal man: yet are those of your race
always the most like to gods of all mortal men in beauty and in
stature (28).

(ll. 202-217) 'Verily wise Zeus carried off golden-haired
Ganymedes because of his beauty, to be amongst the Deathless Ones
and pour drink for the gods in the house of Zeus -- a wonder to
see -- honoured by all the immortals as he draws the red nectar
from the golden bowl.  But grief that could not be soothed filled
the heart of Tros; for he knew not whither the heaven-sent
whirlwind had caught up his dear son, so that he mourned him
always, unceasingly, until Zeus pitied him and gave him high-
stepping horses such as carry the immortals as recompense for his
son.  These he gave him as a gift.  And at the command of Zeus,
the Guide, the slayer of Argus, told him all, and how his son
would be deathless and unageing, even as the gods.  So when Tros
heard these tidings from Zeus, he no longer kept mourning but
rejoiced in his heart and rode joyfully with his storm-footed
horses.

(ll. 218-238) 'So also golden-throned Eos rapt away Tithonus who
was of your race and like the deathless gods.  And she went to
ask the dark-clouded Son of Cronos that he should be deathless
and live eternally; and Zeus bowed his head to her prayer and
fulfilled her desire.  Too simply was queenly Eos: she thought
not in her heart to ask youth for him and to strip him of the
slough of deadly age.  So while he enjoyed the sweet flower of
life he lived rapturously with golden-throned Eos, the early-
born, by the streams of Ocean, at the ends of the earth; but when
the first grey hairs began to ripple from his comely head and
noble chin, queenly Eos kept away from his bed, though she
cherished him in her house and nourished him with food and
ambrosia and gave him rich clothing.  But when loathsome old age
pressed full upon him, and he could not move nor lift his limbs,
this seemed to her in her heart the best counsel: she laid him in
a room and put to the shining doors.  There he babbles endlessly,
and no more has strength at all, such as once he had in his
supple limbs.

(ll. 239-246) 'I would not have you be deathless among the
deathless gods and live continually after such sort.  Yet if you
could live on such as now you are in look and in form, and be
called my husband, sorrow would not then enfold my careful heart.

But, as it is, harsh (29) old age will soon enshroud you --
ruthless age which stands someday at the side of every man,
deadly, wearying, dreaded even by the gods.

(ll. 247-290) 'And now because of you I shall have great shame
among the deathless gods henceforth, continually.  For until now
they feared my jibes and the wiles by which, or soon or late, I
mated all the immortals with mortal women, making them all
subject to my will.  But now my mouth shall no more have this
power among the gods; for very great has been my madness, my
miserable and dreadful madness, and I went astray out of my mind
who have gotten a child beneath my girdle, mating with a mortal
man.  As for the child, as soon as he sees the light of the sun,
the deep-breasted mountain Nymphs who inhabit this great and holy
mountain shall bring him up.  They rank neither with mortals nor
with immortals: long indeed do they live, eating heavenly food
and treading the lovely dance among the immortals, and with them
the Sileni and the sharp-eyed Slayer of Argus mate in the depths
of pleasant caves; but at their birth pines or high-topped oaks
spring up with them upon the fruitful earth, beautiful,
flourishing trees, towering high upon the lofty mountains (and
men call them holy places of the immortals, and never mortal lops
them with the axe); but when the fate of death is near at hand,
first those lovely trees wither where they stand, and the bark
shrivels away about them, and the twigs fall down, and at last
the life of the Nymph and of the tree leave the light of the sun
together.  These Nymphs shall keep my son with them and rear him,
and as soon as he is come to lovely boyhood, the goddesses will
bring him here to you and show you your child.  But, that I may
tell you all that I have in mind, I will come here again towards
the fifth year and bring you my son.  So soon as ever you have
seen him -- a scion to delight the eyes -- you will rejoice in
beholding him; for he shall be most godlike: then bring him at
once to windy Ilion.  And if any mortal man ask you who got your
dear son beneath her girdle, remember to tell him as I bid you:
say he is the offspring of one of the flower-like Nymphs who
inhabit this forest-clad hill.  But if you tell all and foolishly
boast that you lay with ric
Classy J Jun 2019
He got the sauce, he got the sauce driving around in a purple Lamborghini like Ric Ross.
Ya I got the sauce, he got the sauce.
Verse 1
Driving around fronting like a boss.
Feel the connection, better come correct kid.
For in the hood one is always in need of some protection.
And if ya don’t ya best watch your neck kid.
It’s all about respect kid.
So better watch your mouth kid.
Because yawl be dead if ya ever start snitching.
For If you wanna survive you just gotta be packing.
And If you wanna a meal on your plate than ya better start stealing.
Just be careful because the pigs always creeping.
Watching our houses, tapping our phones,  
Every day and every weekend.
For there is no freedom in the project zone.
It’s like gulag out here man, with gangs all trying to sit on the iron porcelain throne.
But it doesn’t mean ****, for the government will still be the true al capoene.
Testing out their drugs on us like we lab rats.
Using racism and propaganda to keep us on our backs.
Which makes makes me wonder why the rest of our society don’t just neuter these ***** cats?
****! But as long as...
He got the sauce, he got the sauce driving around in a purple Lamborghini like Ric Ross.
Ya I got the sauce, he got the sauce.
Verse 2
Stunting with my money like a true mob boss!
You want power?
You want respect?
You want to fly around in a purple jet?
Than ya better come correct.
I feel ya J, we gotta makes them waves.
Like a big kahuna, drinking some corona.
Coming in like a super hero to save the day.
We will be the rulers, taking out the opposition like a true mobster.
And ya might think us monsters, but we just doing what we can with this natural disaster.
That you created, ya I ain’t faded.
Opportunity for all, in this world so devastated.
From Atlanta to the bronks.
Only got one rule, which is don’t be a foolish punk.
You gotta think smart and not just rely on luck.
For every dog has its day, so be careful where you run a muck.
Just as long as you never forget...
He got the sauce, he got the sauce driving around in a purple Lamborghini like Ric Ross.
Ya I got the sauce, he got the sauce.
Got that money, power, and fame like Kriss kross.
Do you got that sauce?
Does he have that sauce?
Because if you don’t, than that’s a loss.
So remember to never lose that sauce.
David Williams Apr 2013
He enters looking bedraggled, tired and worn out, his skin like vellum, blank and pale.
Lifting his eyes to catch their gaze he gives a slight nod to acknowledge their presence.
He scans the room as he would a poem seeking an indent that leads to a quiet corner.
A half-lit light casts a shadow on the flock wallpaper, ink stained.
He sits hidden from view, away from plagiaristic eyes. Head In hand
Scribbling while listening for a new word, a muse sings, emanating an un-heard
Beat that guides his rhythm while searching for that elusive vowel. On the floor
Is a scattering of pencil shavings and broken lead, frustration at the loss of an adjective.
The half rhyme squeezes like a tourniquet on the brain…
Frustration runs high as enjambment slips off the page and gathers in reflective pools.

The Lay Pastoral reads an Elegy to the passing of Sir Rondeau Redouble, he lead a very lonely life ascending and then diminishing becoming less Didactic, the Footle holds a Lanterne for the loss, while the Limerick found it quite humorous.

At the bar a Stanza of poets gather, disciples of Villanelle, and regale of their latest triumphs in Women’s Quarterly. Then silence falls as Suzette Prime performs her latest Burlesque she is in good Shape. The Epulaeryu’s compare their Diamante while eating their babba ghanoosh. At the pool table the movers and shakers decant opinions on the latest ‘form’ something to do with A,E,I,O,U…Acrostic looks it up and down looking puzzled, Blank verse remains silent,

They dissect, analyse the entrails, the faint hearted feel a little Grook. The atmosphere is tense. Verbs drift like dust in the light, causing confusion, they mop their brows with a tired senryu. The haiku’s have little to say on the matter…

A Quintain of intellectuals quietly sit, the Sicilian sipping slim line Monoku’s (no ice) hoping for a Couplet before the end of the night. On a stool sit’s the barfly spilling his Bio over the counter top exposing an Ode-ious life, metaphorically speaking. On stage the hottest group in town… Chant Royal and the Syllables… singing their latest Sestina it reached 39 in the hit parade, the notes drift across the room resting on the floor congealing into a poet-tree fountain…they feel at home as the last act MC McWhirtle enthrals with his latest Ballad…the barman Ric Tameter calls time, the evening is a Rap. The club is Epic…


© 27/3/2013
beth winters Nov 2010
broken glass and christmas lights that don't light up anymore, i hung you about with glitter and gold, called you art, kissed your face. there were tattered things on our clothes, i spit words into the gutter and they ran down the stream into the ocean where the letters got tangled with a sting-ray, a clown fishes fins. tiny fawns painted themselves across your palms, they sung me to sleep at night, wandering down my back and across my nose when i couldn't breathe because there was something knotting my veins into pretty patterns, stopping the bloodflow and shutting down my liver slowly. ric-rac danced two-steps and alcohol-drenched cakes infiltrated tea parties where lace was all the rage and ladies always wore gloves, *** was a thing never spoken about. the fifth most dangerous city in the us took me under its wing, tucked me into train station corners while paedophilia took hold of the government and shook us soundly. people held candles into the night sky when the family was killed, when the police asked if they were involved with drugs, when tiny bodies littered the basement because they were old enough to identify the killer. notebooks and traced fingerprints hung on the walls like christmas decorations before thanksgiving, pictures of you taken in secrecy, dipped in fluid that looks black in the dark room.

i knit sweaters. they have rabbits and bears and deer on the front.
marriegegirl Jul 2014
vrai dire .celui-ci était difficile pour moi .Il m'a fallu un peu plus de temps pour mettre en place les conseils pour ce poste .Non pas parce que je n'étais pas complètement enamouré .fait tout le contraire .Je ne pouvais pas choisir entre toutes les images superbes de Corliss Photographie .Les fleurs de Paisley Petals Studio de fleur .cette grange incroyablement rustique .chaque détail a été en lice pour mon affection .donc j'ai fini par passer un peu de temps en leur disant tout combien je les aimais .C'est normal .non?\u003cp\u003e

ColorsSeasonsSummerSettingsBarnStylesRomantic­

du designer floral .Nous sommes tous pressés ce tournage en droit en plein milieu de la saison de mariage parce que dans le Nord-Ouest .notre fenêtre de temps décent pour un tournage en plein air est limitée .Les résultats ont été bien elle .nous vaut tous passé un super de travailler ensemble sur ce projet !

La grange rénovée sur cette ferme à seulement 35 miles au sud de Seattle fait un endroit parfait pour aa mariage de pays inspiré séance photo .Holcomb Mariages \u0026Evénements achetés ensemble une équipe de rêve pour exécuter le concept de l'élégance rustique et de romance douce .Les couleurs claires et des notes métalliques complété avec un peu d' étincelle supplémentaire à la grange ' histoire et de charme .Nous avons décidé de laisser la grange fournir l'élément rustique tout en gardant le décor sur le côté élégant .Lorsque tout s'est bien passé .les résultats ont été tout ce que nous espérions qu'ils seraient !

tables artisan magnifiques tableaux de Seattle agricoles étaient ornés d'élégants vases en verre transparent débordant d' une prime de local.fleurs de saison dans les arrangements luxuriants conçus par Paisley Petals Studio de fleur .Les tableaux ont été finis avec la chaude lueur de verre au mercure à partir des détails significatifs .plus de Paisley Petals créations dans de petits vases d'argent et place des cartes artisanale par Itsy Belle .Le cadre rustique de la grange et la ferme était la juxtaposition parfaite contre la romance douce du décor .La météo imprévisible qui fait de jour pour une belle lumière .et les portes de la grange ont été ouverts pour laisser illuminer le réglage.En dehors de la grange .des tables ont été placées dans le paysage pour créer une ambiance intime .Chaque table paysage est légèrement différent de l'autre tout en conservant le sentiment de romance rustique .

la robe de Notre modèle de mariée de Something Blue Bridal Boutique était douce et féminine et arrosé avec l'étincelle de son bijoux guillotine à son correspondant bandeau .Ses magnifiques yeux verts ont été portées à la vie par l'artiste de maquillage Korrine Claxon robe de mariée courte .Le bouquet de la mariée était un mélange frais de la ferme des dahlias .roses de jardin .astilbe .lismachia .scabieuse .dentelle de reine anne .des rosettes .origan .menthe ananas .l'achillée millefeuille .adiante et vignes finis robe de mariée courte avec un ruban ric rac de pêche de luxe .La boutonnière assortie utilisé principalement des herbes et des textures de prêter une ambiance plus masculine .

Une cérémonie simple a été mis en place à l'aide de tables bancs agricoles Seattle .L'emplacement au sommet de la ferme a profité pleinement de la vue panoramique sur les champs ci-dessous.Notre

http://www.modedomicile.com

photographe a su capter les dernières images de plein air comme un orage a commencé à rouler à travers .ce qui a pour fin passionnante de notre journée ensemble !
Nous avons été ravis d'avoir Corliss Photographie à bord pour capter magnifiquement l'essence de ce que nous avions créé .C'est toujours inspirant de travailler avec des professionnels du mariage de talent .Nous étions tous ravis de faire partie de celui-ci !Dans notre petit coin du nord-ouest du pays .nous sommes entourés par nature .donner.professionnels de la collaboration dans tous les coins de l'industrie du mariage .Mettre sur pied un tournage comme celui-ci nous donne une chance de fléchir nos muscles créatifs .apprendre à connaître l'autre un robe courte devant longue derriere peu mieux .et de mettre nos talents à travailler pour créer quelque chose de beau juste pour le plaisir !

Photographie : Corliss Photographie | Planification de l'événement: Holcomb Mariages et Evénements | Floral Design : Paisley Petals Studio de fleur | Robe de mariée : Something Blue Bridal Boutique | maquilleur : Korrine Claxton | Place Cards : Itsy Belle | Locations : tableaux de Seattle ferme |Locations de vacances : AA Party | Location : Les détails significatifs | Lieu de mariage : La Ferme
Victoria Nojang Mar 2015
The Cries of a Lonely Old Man

If nature were a woman, what would we call her?
Adriana would be a pleasant name for her
For Adriana as she then was, my high school crush
Pretty with eyes of gold, lovely dimples,
She could arouse the gods even with a smile

Yet quiet and composed was she,
Bold and intelligent to the core indeed
"Life is a quest, a constant battle with forms unseen"
She always declared in her essays of art
Such profound artist, could I make a move?

Compared to her, I was feeble minded
A victim of fate, losing both my parents,
Nature never smiled upon me
Circles of dark deception, winds of cruelty
That's all I got, even the shimmering sun
Lost its glow, eyes that once glittered
Transformed into a raging web of darkness

But let the readers forget about me,
My torturous past led me to Adriana
The lady who would ****** a knife and shatter
What was left of my turbulent heart?
For I met she again at college, San Francisco
Being the only African dating a blonde
She was my world, my life rejuvenated

Eyes once darkened by a humorless pain,
Began to sparkle with shocking intensity
With every kiss, she re awakened my soul
Then three years passed, and I was ready
To go down the alter and make her mine

That scarlet night I proposed on bent knees
She wore a strapless gown of velvet
Slid I the ring on her finger, sealing my fate
When she said yes, my heart deeply rejoiced,
She leaped like the fiery little startled waves

The wedding invitations shared to thousands,
Sponsors invited it had to be only once
I didn't mind letting go a fortune, all for her
Then the day itself, my best man and I
Paraded in such immaculate white tuxedos
You could tell the angels above watching in envy
Wondering what it takes to be human and me
I drove in a silver white limo, so we called it

Two hours in wait, the Priest deeply disturbed
Noises, whispers of discontent could be heard
The bride hadn't shown up, her maid of honor
Stepped in with tears in her eyes, "I'm sorry Ric"
My heart stopped, dreadful thoughts lurked in
"Here's a letter for you” she handed the note
It read, “I’ll be here Ric, but not to marry you"
Then she stepped in, my bride in shining armor
The Bridegroom walked to her and they kissed

Forty years later, I'm a lonely old man
Never able to rise from the hard knock of fate
For indeed if nature were a woman,
I'll like to call her Adriana
I got me a dear rico step ya danny. oops I mean a derrick stephani message.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2021
Finding seed in fibers needed for the humming bird robe.
Thread twisted so,
fine fine fine,
sof-ein
my point in the twisting tale

The book my culture arose from
knowing any rose is a rose.
thank you, Gert,

this book, the book, our culture- global
post
the elec'ric link to steam and steel
and cotton picking
through
assembly line guns, before automobiles, by Ford.

Yes, as an aside, who saw
- pause the prosody, break the lines
- goto .7 speed
- or bullet speed if you know the idea
As handspinners, we indulge our senses with each new yarn that is spun.

From <https://spinoffmagazine.com/a-practical-guide-to-ginning-cotton-by-hand/>

As handspinners,
we indulge our senses
with each new yarn that is spun.
We are entranced and soothed
as our eyes watch the twist travel through the fiber.
We fluff, stretch,
and tug it into every possible yarn configuration
and enjoy that therapeutic zen
that comes with it.
Ginning your own cotton by hand
adds another layer
of bliss
to the spinning experience.

At a glance,
we just pluck seeds
from a nest
of fiber.
You’ll want
to work methodically
in order
to save time and leave your fiber
as lofty
as possible after ginning.
Understanding how the seeds are organized
within a cotton boll and using the best technique
for the variety
of cotton that you have makes the handginning process go much easier.
A link back to an imagine robe formed from 13,392,578 humming bird heads, I assume the hearts from those heads fed priestly beings in some rite of passage.
NeroameeAlucard Dec 2014
My lyrics are malicious drive you ballistic like holistic priest thinking something vicious My flow is viscous moving down the beat like a runny nose the flows sick call a doctor I'll examine your lines like a proctor or a projector I'm the protector of the legit hip-hop style I profile like Ric Flair no care while you stare at this skinny black kid with the name brand flows I eat generic emcees for breakfast while my pen explodes is it so or no let it go like frozen ice cold like frozone while I Make the Mic moan and bust on stage with my lyrical *** while on the decks the wax spins sealing your doom like Indiana Jones in the temple for you theirs no room
Sam Temple Jun 2016
a debt is owed to those of you
who write so clean and pure and true
inspiring me through and through
washing away shades of grey and blue

t’was as if you’d always knew
the way to build me up anew
like a cobbler designing a shoe
you spoke to me as I changed and grew

i lost to taste for rotten shrew
and threw away memories not of you
until I sat alone, hair askew
wondering what next I would do

then came a flash that skewered me through
I was only able to muster a ‘mew’
as the realization came that this could never undue
the great Ric Flair and his infamous “Woooooo”

the point is, if I can get real here, crew
it’s important to me, the writing you do
this comes from my heart so it has to be true
I hope you all have a day under skies sunny and blue –
I just love you folks..... happy to be part of this community of writers
yeah they use us
abuse us then divorce us
after we put our trust
in the system
ever since then my feelings been rust
ashes to ashes dust to dust
in memory of my brain
cuz I put it to rest
along with the rest
ain't no test
just looking around we going to the ground
one day I say let's not pray
instead prey with the AK
ready to spray
down the shadow government
punish em with no sentiments
no remorse
**** the credible source I light a torch
burn them black letters over white paper to chedda graded cheese please don't take these
threats lightly
we moving forcibly not slightly I just might be
eradicatedfo r exposing the truths
like black Jesus
Malcolm to Martin
Lennon to Jimi
Hendrix but my minds ain't playing tricks
listen to the tocks n ticks
clockwork ready to hit
but then again time is a manmade
Thang
even though it's limitless sick of this
society we living in
nothing but pain aggression and sin
will I ever make amends
to my ancestors
rebirth my girth
cuz I know what I'm worth
you can tell my strength by the length
in my hair true playa like that boy Ric Flair
and I'll be there
showing up like the Jackson's can't get no satisfaction
in this deadly game
made a name now I'm pushed to the hall of shame
works go unnamed and I'll still remain
A silent great but wait
it's too **** late of course
cuz we settled for the Hollywood Divorce  court!!!!!
Thoughts on a Sunny Morning


It's a sad **** day when
Memories fail and
leave without
a tool
for poetry.

Ric holds
the gate
but not the

key

Soulless longing for
the accidental brush
of synchronicity.
The breath of destiny.

Drunk on yesterday,
Without the touch
of indifference

memories under
consciousness
flay

me.

Bleeding,
the
pressure of
old promises

Unwright

me

Caroline Shank
5.15.2024
Paul Glottaman Aug 2021
I remember the air
shimmering above hot roads
and sidewalks.
It rippled like water
and invited mirage.
We'd meet up in the
alleyway under my
fire escape and set off,
on bikes and skates and boards
and even on foot.
We'd be gone from the block
but usually still in the neighborhood.
Sometimes at lunch,
when everyone came back
to eat, I'd go up to the
corner store and one of
the uncles would buy me
a coke if I swept up or
moved some boxes.
I'd roll up comic books and
stuff them in my back pockets
because I had seen
Ric's older cousin do it
and I thought it was
the coolest thing.
At night we'd sneak into
the public pool to go for swims.
Some of the us would smoke
and talk about gossipy nothing
and some of us would try
to convince the girls to
give us secret kisses under
the water.
We were happy to be out
of the heat.
One weekend we biked,
my brother and I,
onto the island so we
could go to the good
theather, the air conditioner
worked and the movies
were played as double features.
We killed an entire
afternoon watching films
from the 80s play
back to back.
I sat, one evening, on the
lip of the roof of Ami's building.
She was staring at me
from across the roof
daring me to call her attention.
"Whatchu got, big guy?"
I leaned back and threw
out my arms, making slow
lazy circles and smiling
broadly at her and at everyone.
For a second, though it was
brief, the smile vanished.
I could feel the pull of
gravity in my belly and groin.
I felt suddenly weightless.
I was so sure...
but my feet kicked out and
the weight shifted
and I was fine.
She was making her way
over to me and I don't
remember what happened
next or what we said.
I remember the feeling.
I remember the fear.
I had nothing to compare
it to. It was huge and
intense and profound.
It was like...
It was like falling in love.
When it rained,
like sheets with wind whipping
between the buildings
as though through canyon walls,
we'd stay in and futz
with Great Grandma's
old black and white set.
One of us would hold the antenna,
the rest indicating how high
or far away.
We'd take turns,
switching out during commercials.
Waiting out the rain.
It's gone now, of course.
The city has a gestational period
like cicadas.
The city I know,
the city I moved away from
is gone.
Yesterday's New York.
I've learned since
to fall in love, elsewhere.
Infamous one Nov 2018
Pro-wrestling is something; I've always loved. I got made fun or teased. It was a world of action, and story lines. Somethings I loved, others were time killers in my eyes. I remember being a hulk hogan fan and then Ric flair fan. With Hogan you are strong doing what's right. Flair had it all women and money. He was a heel and Hogan was the good guy. After the 80s ended the late 90s would have the attitude era. With stone cold and the rock. So many wrestlers had gimmicks or themed for better words.
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Red solo cups,
sodas and *****,
white elephant gifts,
appetizers to choose.

Christmas shirts,
decorations and lights,
friends have all gathered,
for a fun night.

Pallet bonfire,
jokes and songs,
laughter and grinning,
doesn't take long.

A few shots taken,
and passed around,
Ric Flair's woo!!
is the party sound.

Silly games played,
and lots of stories told,
some heard before,
but they never get old.

With the stars over head,
and the moon shining bright,
everybody heads home,
from a hell of a night.
Deep where daytime plunges I view images obverse rendered slight
wrung from a perspective when noon of day becomes noon of night
among **** whose hot water's cold & whose saggy ******* are tight
to show straight Venezuelan queers that head-wise they're not right,
as if to correct **** San Pedro dragsters who fist-ways can not fight
Charles Carroll of Homewood never trapped mice not worth killing
Charles Carroll of Carrollton signed free declarations Allāh willing
Charles Carroll of Annapolis wrote that Turkical gals were thrilling
in tropic moonshine French vanilla ice cream's quite filling because
for no Scandinavian ******* there's no Scandinavian-****** dealing
and so without Croatian moolies there's no Croatian-****** grilling
when stolen-hubcap rates rise with the rise of 'hood-hubcap stealing
con-ghetto markets are swamped with hubcaps spooks were trailing
while black markets are burstin' with cool hubcaps they like selling
before choco shops are flooded by hot hubcaps negroes be smelling
after flea markets go awash with hub hot caps ***** are concealing
their motivations that would be revelationary to crimes protocolical
that are as penetrative as contacts rated allopathically transdermical
so as to counter stimuli sprouting superficial growth sclerodermical
within mutagenical outcroppings phasically presumed hydrostatical
It was Ric Flair who had a stare what could scare a bear because no
one fixes fair hair in a chair devil-may-care with their *** in the air!
It was Sonny plus Cher who did dare to spare rare bikini underwear
'cause no Bono heir can compare to share the glare of 1 blaring pair
Mountaineers need rear gear to snare sheer facets & clear a bare ear
when fear is a mere sad tear in the career of chairman Norman Lear  
We need guns to **** fascists because in America it's live free or die
& we need guns to **** pizza thugs demandin': "Give me your pie!"
& we need bombs to blow up folks who claim Bruce Jenner's a guy
whose vehicular homicides are faultless on a California codger tour
that skids by a nursin' home that's home to washed-up Roger Moore
with his lady-killing libido that marked him as a bed-hoppin' *****
on the Sunset Strip & in East L.A. & along 9 miles of Pacific shore
where, in Speedo bikini trunks, upon a polite society, he waged war
☎ ☎ ☎ ☎ ☎
Deep where daytime plunges I view images obverse rendered slight
wrung from a perspective when noon of day becomes noon of night
among **** whose hot water's cold & whose saggy ******* are tight
to show straight Venezuelan queers that head-wise they're not right,
as if to correct **** San Pedro dragsters who fist-ways can not fight
Charles Carroll of Homewood never trapped mice not worth killing
Charles Carroll of Carrollton signed free declarations Allāh willing
Charles Carroll of Annapolis wrote that Turkical gals were thrilling
in tropic moonshine French vanilla ice cream's quite filling because
for no Scandinavian ******* there's no Scandinavian-****** dealing
and so without Croatian moolies there's no Croatian-****** grilling
when stolen-hubcap rates rise with the rise of 'hood-hubcap stealing
con-ghetto markets are swamped with hubcaps spooks were trailing
while black markets are burstin' with cool hubcaps they like selling
before choco shops are flooded by hot hubcaps negroes be smelling
after flea markets go awash with hub hot caps ***** are concealing
their motivations that would be revelationary to crimes protocolical
that are as penetrative as contacts rated allopathically transdermical
so as to counter stimuli sprouting superficial growth sclerodermical
within mutagenical outcroppings phasically presumed hydrostatical
It was Ric Flair who had a stare what could scare a bear because no
one fixes fair hair in a chair devil-may-care with their *** in the air!
It was Sonny plus Cher who did dare to spare rare bikini underwear
'cause no Bono heir can compare to share the glare of 1 blaring pair
Mountaineers need rear gear to snare sheer facets & clear a bare ear
when fear is a mere sad tear in the career of chairman Norman Lear  
We need guns to **** fascists because in America it's live free or die
& we need guns to **** pizza thugs demandin': "Give me your pie!"
& we need bombs to blow up folks who claim Bruce Jenner's a guy
whose vehicular homicides are faultless on a California codger tour
that skids by a nursin' home that's home to washed-up Roger Moore
with his lady-killing libido that marked him as a bed-hoppin' *****
on the Sunset Strip & in East L.A. & along 9 miles of Pacific shore
where, in Speedo bikini trunks, upon a polite society, he waged war
☎ ☎ ☎ ☎ ☎

— The End —