Tag: Classical

Poetry

Death’s Final Embrace

The Royal Octopus

She met him cloaked in night’s deep shade,
A whisper wrapped in dark cascade.
Her voice a plea, a soft lament,
“Grant me time that’s not yet spent.

“I’ve songs unsung, and fields to sow,
Dreams unspun, and hearts to know.
Hold back the tide, just for a breath—
Leave me longer yet, dear Death.”

He answered low, as shadows bind,
In tones that shivered leaf and rind,
“All things must end, both flesh and flame;
Life’s spark and glow are much the same.

“The stars, too, burn and fade away,
And rivers cease their winding sway.
The oak that towers, proud and high,
Must bow to earth, as all things die.”

She bowed her head, her hope unwound,
Her voice a murmur, soft and sound.
“Then lead me well,” she breathed, resigned,
“For I shall go, as all must bind.”

And Death, with sorrowed, timeless grace,
Held her hand in cold embrace.
“For every soul, a night will fall—
Yet in that dark, I hold them all.”

2024 ©️

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 ©️