A Poem Draft that I am never able to proceed and put an end to as reckless as I am.
'Thou my Adonis, I Aphrodite thine. What shall the heart opine? 'tis reckless, foolish and Blind. for it has entered forbidden love's shrine. thy lies are pious, thy truth is atheist. Am I lie or a truth told and doth it bind? An esoteric axiom_for love is honest, But Man is often stony, All is too unkind.'
● Adonis and Aphrodite: In Greek Mythology Adonis(Who was a very handsome man and in present time we use this word in order to Symbolize or Describe a Man's Beauty) the mortal lover of the goddess Aphrodite or often also called Venus. ● Esoteric axiom: a hard principle/dictum . . . .
We sat upon the top Basked in our tunes And sang in laughter
Not a moment went by when one of us wasn't whistling a melody Or strumming the Earth and making her dance We inspired those below with joyous phrases Made them tap their feet And helped them to keep time
They had no time to look up and applaud; Our song was never done For forever we tune our souls And forever we carve our poetry into walls To be remembered for years to come
We took not a second to dally Wrote line after line and never ceased "Begin and never cease! Begin and never cease!" So we didn't
And now, after our long, long song We start anew We sing a different tune We dance yet another dance Yet we ford on And beckon those to play along "Sing with us if you can!
Hushed whispers , deliberately softened treads
Multiplied by thousand
In to the perpetual breeze
That roams the Temple of Delphi
The ceromonial robes of the high priestess
Weigh heavily on my slender frame
I take a deep breath from the burning brazier
The offerings to a vengeful god within it
The fumes envelope me. Choke me
I slip in to the sacred trance
When I speak, it is not my voice
But the voice of Apollo
----------------------------------------------------------- The Pythia (/ˈpɪθiə/; Ancient Greek: Πυθία [pyːˈtʰi.aː]) was the name of the high priestess of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi who also served as its oracle, also known as the Oracle of Delphi.
raghavendran@a_gentilischi Ah! The oracle, Delphi, the priestesses, all these take me to the times of ancient Greece. How difficult the prognostications were to decipher what the Oracles predicted! Greek myths are a storehouse of learning. Your poem reminded me of the Priestess Medusa and her life history. I have written a trilogy on Medusa. I tag you to the first. If you are interested, I shall tag you to them after your response. I liked your poem very much.
a_gentilischi@raghavendran Please do! I don't think I've ever met anyone with such comprehensive and enthusiastic knowledge on mythology, as you.
raghavendran@a_gentilischi I am very glad to receive your appreciation. I shall always tag you to my poems on Greek myths specifically and other poems too.
a_gentilischi@raghavendran I do have post notifications turned on for all the people I follow, but, yes, that would be most welcome. I really don't want to miss any of your work
Beloved, You were Pan, the great god, Herd of the wilderness, in this dream I had, it was almost a trance that lasted longer than my sleep and the Nyx's spell!
As you called, came the high winds soaring down, flying low, into the hollowed reed you held, just as swiftly, a song started with an inherently mellow tune, that spoke of an old sadness that would last forever; It fluttered across the lake, from where you stood!
You slid down slow, looking long into the distance, and sat amidst the green where hooved herds heard your flute and there they headed to heed their herald's call!
Your hands touched and felt hardened brown earth beneath the soft cold grass and that luscious mouth cracked a crooked smile and your dials digged into the dirt deep!
You closed your eyes, and fell into an enchanted sway, meditating and manifesting, calling out to that one, your comrade and kin, then the winds changed, carrying forth hints of purple mirth!
You smell the bottled poetry and nodded into the air, respectful of that Dionysian magic as your hands materialised above ground, with them emerged a crystalline decanter of the South!
You enjoyed with your eyes, the colour of deep sangria, and the sun lit up the glass, they glinted and glittered in your grip,liquour tinted with liquid gold and pressed rubies then glided down your throat easy!
I could almost hear a rhyme start thrumming inside your chest, your tongue swirled around the bubbles and bouquets of the grape, and the music your sharp teeth made clinging against the crystalware, reached me!
You were reminiscent of the days we had spent; in your playful drunken stupor with my raw indulgent kisses, immune to the worldly woes as immortal prey to the cupid's bow!
Your hands had trembled when they first touched me, as my heart shivered then rose to fall; and you hummed a song, par amour,for hours at length, to the pulsating highs and lows of my breath, we had lain in an untouching embrace, starry eyed!
You drank deep from those memories as the wine sting your lips red, you shed your essence of a God, and evolved into something more divine, a man who has tasted a love so indelible, intaking that ambrosia alien to most!
Then you heard a sound so poignant, it was a faint murmur from an epoch lost, trodden on and turned obsolete and taught to be silent, like a poised sigh even whilst in torture, delicate yet so profound, it huffed and puffed but you mistook it for the gushing breeze!
That was me, my precious; I was Achyls, the usher of eternal night shrouded in a veil of darkness and a mist of shadows, cast away by light, always placed beyond your reach, abhorent to the day you were born to seize, therefore removed from the vale of your reality!
I was the provenance of death and you were a patron of life, a wistful paroxysm takes over me,and I whelve into a state of mindlessness, in jamais vu, I take in the new from that same old sight, an ephemeral epiphany transpires inside me!
I discover or rediscover the picture of that love which we had shared, that which I had come to see in the days of yore, and often wished I hadn't; The truth is that we are always at odds, it's paramount that our love was always almost immaculate, but even in my dreams, we still remain ill-fated.
Greek Mythology tells of a group of warrior women of Asia Minor that successfully fought. Said to have been the daughters of Ares and Harmonia, whom their greatest desires were a life of war. Cities and temples named after them include, Ephesus, Smyrna, and many more from that lot. When it came to fighting and victory, all that they wanted was more.
They lived in what was known as Asia Minor, respectively. They surrounded themselves as a group of only women. Obviously, they mated outside of their communities, and sent their sons to the fathers, hesitantly. Forming bonds of a unique unity with stories that are read today, the legends never ending.
Biased men of the past have said that these were really men that shaved and had long hair. I don't believe that this is true. Like the shield maidens that fought with the Vikings with fire and flair. Going against them was a task that was not easy to do.
So, I write this with respect and in honor of the fighting ladies of olde. The libraries and internet of today can grant us so much knowledge. Reading and learning of the legends of stories told. Stories of life and love, bondage, deception, and the bold.
Immediately I recall Caravaggio's painting of Medusa, feared by the male heroes of Greek Mythology. I remember being sixteen, standing in an art gallery, marble floors shining and my breath echoing around the room: Medusa has her mouth open in bloody hysterical scream, her head decapitated; it is silenced by the glass separating the painting from me. It reflects my face over her own- a mirror. I'm eighteen now and I want to scream. Rage. Cry. We are told not to. My head firmly attached to my neck, writhes with snakes of questions about this. I've no snakes for hair, yet my own contentious relationship with the concepts of beauty and ugliness seems to explain my having some sharp edges. When girls are weighed on the scales of beauty, of worth- am I not allowed to simply exist? -the scale places rage on the negative end. Medusa is given trauma, has it forced down her throat and into her lungs; Medusa is given a blade to her neck for daring to be mad about it. Girls are given trauma and they are given no place to put it down.
I found myself believing the Greek mythology in my early years
The goddess Pistis ( the embodiment of faith) made me believe
They aren't the all powerful beings we presume them to be
They're all our emotions, fears, demons, place we go to, everything..
But with separate faces
In my growing years I saw a patron in Artemis, the Greek Goddess of the Hunt and the Moon,
Her eternal maidenhood struck me
She needed nobody to complete her which fascinated me
(okay she's still my patron)
Everytime I looked at the moon, I imagined her
In her silver chariot, riding the stars
Next was Athena, the Goddess of wisdom
Her everlasting knowledge and she besting her fellow gods,
I wanted that, I still do,
But I, a mere child, having no recognisable talent.. was stumped,
Poseidon the lord of the seas
Has always had a special place in my heart,
The blue waves, calm waters, the land unknown,
Impacted me in waves which can't be told.
I started to identify myself with the unpredictable and untamed waters.
As I grew up, I met Achlys, the Goddess of misery and pain,
She made me encounter demons
worse than those from the depths of Tartarus
They attacked me, tried to kill me
And there were times, I gave in
Aphrodite, the Goddess of love bestowed a curse upon me
I thought I found my Eros, and my life came to a standstill
But it was Thanatos, the God of Death in disguise
And my whole life was torn apart
For death and love aren't so different
But the God I still believe the most in-
Philotes, a minor goddess, not much recognition
The first I heard of her, I learnt
This was all I needed all along
The Greek Goddess of friendship, provided me with a living Elysium
I was no longer in the Fields of Asphodel
Walking, crying alone.. No.
I might have even reached the Isles of the Blessed
Now I could even have even roamed the
endless pit of Tartarus without giving in
The demons were still there, Yes.
But now they were afraid to touch me
And I haven't looked back since..