Author: The Royal Octopus

I’m a writer with a love for rhyming poetry, drawn to the rhythm and playfulness that reminds me of childhood. Mythology has always fascinated me—particularly Greek and Norse—and I find joy in retelling those ancient tales through verse. My poems often explore voices that are overlooked or misunderstood, offering new perspectives on familiar myths through lyrical storytelling.
Poetry

The Freedom of Sporus

The Royal Octopus

Once a whisper, soft and rare,
A jewel’s gleam, a glinting stare—
My name turned mockery in time,
A ghost of beauty, bruised, a mime.

They took my skin, my youth, my song,
Bent my will to play along.
In Nero’s arms, a love deformed,
A twisted bride, a promise scorned.

I wore the mask, the silken chain,
And danced for him, through fire and pain,
A shadow dressed in borrowed grace,
To fill his void, to bear her trace.

But when the fires dimmed and died,
What use was left for Rome’s boy bride?
No throne, no voice, no form of me—
The only echo was mockery.

So now, by blade, I take my throne,
A crown of silence, mine alone—
For in my death, my one decree:
At last, in darkness, I am free.

2024 ©️

Poetry

The Fool’s Journey

The Royal Octopus

With eyes wide open and a heart so free,
The Fool steps forth on destiny’s spree.
A cliff at his heels, a sun overhead,
The journey begins with no path to tread.

First comes the Magician, wise and grand,
With tools of power laid in his hand.
He teaches the Fool of will and might,
To shape his dreams, to summon light.

Then to the High Priestess, shrouded in night,
She guards the secrets of hidden sight.
In silence she speaks, her wisdom flows—
“Trust in yourself, for only you know.”

The Empress awaits, abundant and kind,
In the fertile soil, new life she’ll find.
She shows him love, of earth and birth,
The gentle strength that springs from worth.

With the Emperor’s rule, structure and law,
He offers control, the world in awe.
“Stand firm,” he says, “and build your reign,
Only then can you weather all pain.”

The Hierophant calls to traditions past,
Rituals that bind, old truths that last.
In his lessons, the Fool learns to see
The power of faith and community.

The Lovers now stand, a choice in sight,
Two paths, one heart—wrong or right?
The Fool feels the pull of love’s own thread,
A union of souls, a life newly wed.

With the Chariot’s strength, forward he flies,
Through trials and storms, beneath dark skies.
Steadfast and brave, his heart beats strong,
A lesson in drive, in passion so long.

To Justice he turns, scales held with grace,
Fairness and truth, she sets the pace.
Each action weighed, each deed laid bare,
In karma’s eyes, nothing to spare.

The Hermit’s lantern in darkness gleams,
A solitary light, of wisdom and dreams.
In silence, the Fool finds a deeper call,
To seek within, beyond the thrall.

With Fortune’s Wheel, the cycles spin,
Of loss and gain, of loss again.
The Fool learns to ride life’s twist and turn,
To flow with fate, to bend, to burn.

Strength meets him next, soft yet fierce,
A lion tamed, the veil pierced.
Through inner courage, fear’s undone,
The strength of heart, its battle won.

The Hanged Man waits, in upside-down rest,
A view that shifts, a pause, a test.
In surrender, the Fool lets go,
And finds in stillness, a new way to grow.

Then Death arrives with shadows deep,
An end, a change, a moment steep.
The Fool sheds skin, his old life falls,
For in each ending, a new life calls.

Temperance follows, serene and wise,
The art of balance, under calm skies.
With patience and grace, the Fool learns to blend,
Opposing forces, a path to mend.

But then the Devil, with chains of fire,
Tempts him with dreams of dark desire.
In shadow’s grasp, the Fool must see
The power of choice, the path to be free.

Through the Tower’s fall, with lightning’s crack,
Structures crumble, there’s no way back.
From ruins, truth emerges bright,
For in destruction comes new sight.

The Star shines down, a hopeful light,
Guiding him gently through darkest night.
Renewed by faith, his spirit glows,
The boundless peace the universe knows.

The Moon then calls, with mysteries deep,
Of dreams that dance and secrets that seep.
The Fool learns of fears and unknown tides,
To trust himself where darkness hides.

The Sun arises, warm and clear,
A burst of joy, a world held dear.
In radiant light, the Fool feels whole,
A life reborn, a shining soul.

Judgment sounds, a trumpet’s call,
Past lives rise, memories fall.
The Fool awakens, reborn and free,
He claims his truth, his destiny.

At last, the World—completion’s grace,
The journey’s end, the final place.
With wisdom gained and spirit bright,
The Fool circles back, renewed in light.

The journey repeats, with each step anew—
A spiral of growth, forever true.

2024 ©️

Poetry

The Lovers Fate

The Royal Octopus

In Alexandria’s gilded light,
Where the Nile draped stars in gold at night,
Queen Cleopatra, fierce and wise,
Bound Mark Antony with her eyes.

Two souls, ablaze, as fires would,
Drew close in lust and understood,
What Rome forbade, their hearts proclaimed—
A love the world would curse, yet fame.

Together, they defied their fate,
Drunk on dreams, both fierce and great;
But winds of war would twist and turn,
Till glory fell, and cities burned.

On Actium’s shore, the legions came,
With Rome’s cold steel in Caesar’s name.
Antony fought, but knew the cost,
That kingdoms fall and wars are lost.

Betrayed by fate, a fleeting breath,
They sealed their pact of life and death.
And Cleopatra, royal, free,
Chose death before captivity.

Upon her throne, she drew her veil,
And took her fate, so proud, so pale;
A serpent’s kiss, a gentle sleep,
She died a queen the gods would keep.

No chain of Rome, no victor’s claim,
Could bind her heart or mar her name;
In death, she rose, beyond defeat—
A sovereign spirit, fierce and sweet

2024 ©️

Poetry

Demeter & Persephone

The Royal Octopus

In fields where golden grains unfold,
Demeter wanders, strong and bold.
With hands that till and seeds that sow,
She watches over life’s soft glow.

But far beneath, in shadowed halls,
Where no sun shines, nor sparrow calls,
Her daughter waits, in quiet bloom,
In Hades’ dark and silent room.

Persephone, with eyes of night,
Once full of spring and meadow light,
Now walks among the shaded dead,
With iron crown upon her head.

Each year her mother grieves anew,
The earth grows cold, the sky dims blue;
For as the maiden leaves her side,
The world becomes a barren tide.

Yet spring returns, with her sweet grace,
A burst of life, a warm embrace.
The earth awakens, soft and green,
For mother and her cherished queen.

So seasons turn, a sacred round,
In loss, in love, the world is bound;
For death may part, yet love remains,
In flowers sprung from winter’s chains.

2024 ©️

Poetry

The Wild God’s song

The Royal Octopus

In twilight woods where shadows sway,
The pipes of Pan begin to play,
A haunting tune, both wild and free,
That stirs the soul of land and sea.

His hooves strike earth, his breath the breeze,
That whispers through the ancient trees.
With curling horns and eyes of flame,
He dances, calling out his name.

Pan, the wild, the untamed god,
Who roams the fields where mortals trod,
With laughter fierce, he claims the glen,
The untamed heart of beasts and men.

The nymphs will join, the streams will sing,
And all the earth begins to ring.
For Pan, the wild, commands it so,
In moonlit paths where rivers flow.

Yet fear him too, in darkest night,
For Pan’s embrace is pure delight,
But chaos dwells within his eyes—
Where joy and madness intertwine.

In hills and hollows, meadows wide,
The echoes of his music hide.
And those who hear may never be
The same beneath his ancient tree.

2024 ©️

Poetry

The Piper’s Warning..

The Royal Octopus

When Hamelin town refused to pay
The Piper for his song that day,
A warning whispered on the breeze:
Be wary when you break decrees.

His tune had driven rats away,
And yet, the town would not repay—
They mocked the man who held the flute,
Forgetting how his charm took root.

With bitter smile and eyes of fire,
He raised his pipe, the notes climbed higher.
The children followed, soft in prance,
Enthralled with every step, each dance.

To hills and mountains, far from sight,
They vanished in the fading light.
No gold, no plea could bring them back,
For debts unpaid leave lasting lack.

So heed this tale of Hamelin’s plight:
Be true in word, or lose the light.
For promises, once left to stray,
May lead what’s dear so far away.

2024 ©️

Poetry

The Dark Dreamer

The Royal Octopus

In the deep where dark tides creep,
Cthulhu stirs in restless sleep.
Beneath the waves where silence reigns,
In sunken city, bound by chains.

His eyes are closed, yet still they see,
The stars align, his destiny.
The world above in fleeting grace,
But soon will quake in his embrace.

The sea is calm, but whispers low,
Of ancient dread that dreams below.
His slumber thin, a breath, a sigh,
A thousand souls shall rise and die.

The earth will crack, the skies will bleed,
As Cthulhu wakes to mortal need.
A shadow vast, a mind untamed,
His power calls, the world is claimed.

Yet for now, in dark repose,
He waits, he dreams, as madness grows.
The time will come, the stars will shift,
And Cthulhu shall from depths be lift.

©️ 2024

Poetry

The Mother’s Mistake

The Royal Octopus

Born from soil, from stars, from sea,
Yet unlike all, they came to be.
With minds that reached beyond the skies,
Had hands that built, and tongues that lied.

They rose from earth with prideful claim,
To bend the world, to carve their name.
But in their rise, they left behind
The gentle pulse of Nature’s mind.

The rivers cried, the forests thinned,
The air grew thick, the seas were pinned.
For what was green, they burned for gain,
And in their grasp, came endless pain.

Machines and cities, steel and fire,
Their endless wants, their deep desire.
They took too much, they gave too little,
Their hearts of stone, their souls so brittle.

The sky now fades, the earth now groans,
And yet they stand upon their thrones.
Blind to the wounds they fail to see,
The greatest flaw in Nature’s tree.

Oh, Mother Nature, did you weep
To see your children fall so deep?
For what you birthed with love and care,
Became a burden hard to bear.

Perhaps in time, they’ll learn to bend,
To heal the world, their ways amend.
But until then, with hearts opaque,
They’ll wear the mark—your grand mistake.

2024 ©️

Poetry

The Baba Yaga

The Royal Octopus

In the woods where shadows creep,
Where twisted trees in silence sleep,
Lives Baba Yaga, wild and wise,
With ancient fire behind her eyes.

Her hut on legs walks through the gloom,
A place of both fortune and doom.
The lost and helpless seek her door,
Hoping for gifts, but she gives more.

“Come in, come in,” her raspy call,
“To those who need, I give my all.
But understand, no spell is free,
You’ll earn your fate, as it must be.”

A girl once came with teary plea,
“Save me from my misery.”
Baba Yaga stirred her brew,
“Then tell me first, what can you do?”

The girl cried out, “I’m weak, I’m small,
I cannot work, I cannot crawl.”
The witch just laughed, her eyes aglow,
“Then you are not prepared to grow.”

She vanished then without a trace,
Leaving the girl to face her place.
But others came, their spirits strong,
Seeking where their hands belong.

A farmer begged for fertile lands,
He brought his plow, his calloused hands.
“Good,” Yaga said, “You’ve come with toil—
Now plant your dreams into the soil.”

A craftsman sought to find his way,
He worked through night, he worked by day.
“Ah,” she said, “You’ll earn your keep,
For those who build, shall never weep.”

So Baba Yaga’s lessons clear,
To those who work, you need not fear.
The witch rewards the self-made path,
Her wisdom hides behind no wrath.

For those who help themselves with pride,
Find Baba Yaga on their side.

2024 ©️

Poetry

Life & Death; Eternal Love

The Royal Octopus

Life and Death, eternal pair,
Locked in love beyond compare.
Life, with breath, begins the tale,
In every heartbeat, every sail.

With each dawn, Life paints the skies,
In laughter, tears, in dreams that rise.
She gives, she grows, she builds anew,
In every soul she whispers through.

Yet in her heart, a quiet knowing,
That every gift she sends is glowing,
Not just for the world’s embrace,
But for her lover’s darkened grace.

Death stands waiting, calm and still,
With open arms, with gentle will.
He does not take, he does not steal,
He holds the truth Life dares not feel.

For every soul Life spins and weaves,
In time, she gives, she softly leaves,
A precious gift to Death’s cold hands,
A bond that only they understand.

And Death, though feared, does not destroy,
He holds each soul like fragile joy.
In endless silence, love is deep,
Where souls are cherished, there they sleep.

Together, Life and Death entwine,
A dance of love, a line divine.
For in the end, what Life bestows,
Death cradles gently, as it goes.

2024 ©️