Tag: Hellenism

Poetry

The Sisters, Three.

The Royal Octopus

Three sisters sit by candle’s gleam,
Weaving lives from tangled dream.
Their fingers dance, both swift and slow,
As threads of fate begin to grow.

Clotho spins the silken line,
Her spindle hums, both fierce and fine.
In her hands, beginnings lie,
Moments born and minutes nigh.

Lachesis counts with measured grace,
Deciding each thread’s length and pace.
With steady hand, she marks the span,
The gift of time to every man.

Atropos waits with silver shears,
To cut the cord of days and years.
Her final snip, so cold and keen,
The line undone, the space between.

Three sisters hold the world’s design,
The spark of life, the swift decline.
In darkness deep and candle’s glow,
They weave the tale we’ll never know.

2024 ©️

Poetry

Scylla

The Royal Octopus

In a sea-stone cradle Scylla lay,
Once nymph of grace, now cast away.
Transformed by envy, wrath, and curse,
Her beauty gone, her fate much worse.

Where tides swirl dark and waters foam,
She guards her cliffs, her ghastly home.
Six heads rise from her twisted spine,
Each hungry maw a gaping sign.

Sailors quake and ships go still,
At sight of Scylla, fierce and chill.
Her howls echo through the deep,
Lulling hope and daring sleep.

Once she danced with lilies fair,
Now coils of terror braid her hair.
She mourns her past with every breath,
Bound forever to bring death.

But when the waves grow calm and low,
And silver tides in moonlight glow,
Perhaps, just once, in midnight’s veil,
She dreams of being whole and pale.

And yet the fates are never kind,
Her curse, like chains, in salt entwined.
Scylla waits in shadows’ lair,
A memory lost, a lingering snare.

2024 ©️

Poetry

The Muses

The Royal Octopus

In hills where whispers weave the air,
Nine muses dwell, both bright and fair.
Each muse, a flame, an ageless spark,
Guiding hands through shadows dark.

Calliope lifts her voice on high,
Epic tales beneath the sky.
War and peace she deftly spins,
In every heart her story begins.

Clio, keeper of the past,
Scrolls of time she holds steadfast.
With ancient ink, in script so fine,
She writes the echoes that define.

Euterpe’s song, both sweet and clear,
Flows like rivers, draws us near.
Flutes sing softly, waters glide,
In her melody, worlds collide.

Thalia smiles, a playful guise,
Comedy gleams within her eyes.
With laughter light and mirth to lend,
She spins the jests that never end.

Melpomene, in sorrow’s grace,
Tears and masks she does embrace.
Tragic hearts and tales unfold,
In her shadow, stories told.

Terpsichore, in dance’s thrall,
Moves with grace, a rhythmic call.
Feet that glide, and arms that sway,
She brings life to night and day.

Erato chants of love so sweet,
In tender words her worlds do meet.
Soft and fervent, near and far,
Guided by her, hearts unbar.

Polyhymnia, solemn, still,
Sacred hymns her whispers fill.
Prayers and rites in reverent tone,
She sings to gods and gods alone.

Urania, stargazer bright,
Maps the heavens, tracks their flight.
With cosmic thought and wonder’s fire,
She draws the lines that dreams inspire.

Together they rise, voices entwined,
In song and dance, in verse and mind.
The muses guide, inspire, and play—
A timeless chorus, night and day.

2024 ©️

Poetry

The Siren’s Song

The Royal Octopus

Upon the waves, they sing so sweet,
A haunting hymn, a call discreet.
With voices woven soft and deep,
They stir the sea, they steal the sleep.

Their words like honey, thick and slow,
Beneath the moon’s seductive glow,
Draw men from decks to ocean’s rim,
To chase that song on chance or whim.

They promise love, a soft embrace,
In waters deep, a dreamlike place.
The sailors gaze, their minds undone,
To kiss the tide, to sink as one.

And so they drift, forsaking shore,
Entangled souls forevermore.
For sirens’ songs, both sweet and wild,
Bewitch the heart and leave it riled.

They sing of warmth, they sing of home,
In liquid depths, where lost men roam,
Their voices echo, far and near,
The sirens’ song—a song of fear.

2024 ©️

Poetry

The Theogony

The Royal Octopus

In darkness vast, where silence lay,
The cosmos churned in disarray.
Chaos reigned, the formless might,
A timeless void, devoid of light.

From Chaos’ womb came Earth, the bold,
Gaia, mother, fierce and old.
She swelled with mountains, streams, and trees,
A world from void, a breath, a breeze.

Next came Tartarus, dark and deep,
Where secrets dark and shadows sleep.
And Eros too, love’s spark, was born,
The binding force of dusk and dawn.

Gaia then with starry Sky,
Uranus, her mate on high,
Brought forth the Titans, fierce and grand,
Born from Earth’s creative hand.

Cronus, youngest, sly and proud,
In darkness forged a plan avowed—
To rend his father’s rule apart,
A savage claim, a ruthless heart.

The blood of Uranus, cast to sea,
Gave birth to more divinity:
The Furies, fierce, with eyes afire,
And Aphrodite, soft desire.

Yet Cronus ruled with iron fist,
Each child of his, condemned, dismissed.
Till Rhea bore a cunning son,
Zeus, the storm, the fated one.

In secret raised, with thunder’s might,
He claimed his birthright in the night.
With siblings freed, a war began,
Olympians rose to forge their plan.

With lightning, storm, and Titan’s fall,
The heavens shook, the earth’s enthral.
Olympus claimed, a realm divine,
As gods rose up in holy line.

Thus born were they, the Olympian throng,
The gods of myth, in story and song.
From Chaos’ depths to mountain’s throne,
Their might and rule forever known.

2024 ©️

Poetry

The Hidden Love

The Royal Octopus

In twilight’s hush, where shadows blend,
There danced a tale without an end:
Of Psyche, pure, with mortal breath,
And Eros, god of love and death.

She, a maiden mortal-bound,
With beauty rare and fate profound,
Caught the envy of gods above,
Yet knew not yet the depths of love.

Eros came, unseen by light,
A winged god masked by night,
He dared not show his face to see
What love in secret they might be.

With whispered touch and hidden hand,
He led her through a dream-wrought land,
Each night beside her, silent, true,
Yet always veiled from mortal view.

“Do not ask, and do not see,
For in the dark, we’re truly free.”
Yet Psyche’s heart, with questions pressed,
Longed to see her love confessed.

One fateful night, a candle’s glow,
Revealed the face she dared not know,
A god’s own gaze, both fierce and sweet,
And love lay broken at their feet.

The spell was cast; he slipped away,
As dawn dissolved their love to gray.
She wandered lands, crossed heaven’s gate,
For one last chance to mend their fate.

Through trials harsh and shadows steep,
Where gods would laugh and mortals weep,
Her courage shone—a light, a fire,
Born of pain and pure desire.

Till finally, through mercy’s grace,
She met her love in timeless space,
And as a goddess born anew,
She claimed a love both deep and true.

Eros and Psyche, star-bound flight,
Two souls entwined, in day and night,
Through mortal toil and godly scheme,
They found in each their truest dream.

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

Apollo’s loss

The Royal Octopus

In golden light, where laurel grows,
The god of sun, with grace bestows
His love upon those hearts that bloom,
Beneath the stars, beneath the moon.

Hyacinth, with beauty bright,
Apollo’s gaze, his guiding light,
In fields they laughed, in youth they played,
But fate with cruel hand was laid.

A discus spun, a fatal blow,
From Apollo’s hand, the winds did throw.
Hyacinth fell, his breath withdrew,
But from his blood, a flower grew.

The god wept tears, the petals kissed,
And in the bloom, they would persist.
Forever marked, their love divine,
A memory of a god’s design.

Cyparissus, of cedar born,
Whose mournful heart, forever torn,
For love of stag, Apollo’s gift,
His sorrow vast, his spirit swift.

In grief he asked to join the trees,
To stand with branches in the breeze.
Apollo’s love, though bittersweet,
Transformed him to a tree complete.

The cedar stands, its shadows cast,
The symbol of a love that lasts.
Apollo, bright as morning rays,
Holds them close, beyond the days.

2024 ©️

Poetry

The birth of Love

The Royal Octopus

In chaos first, where darkness slept,
The seeds of life in silence kept,
No gods yet born, no light, no sun,
But from the void, all things begun.

From Chaos rose great Gaia’s form,
The Earth herself, both soft and warm,
With sky above, Uranus bright,
Together clasped in endless night.

Then Eros came with wings of fire,
The primal force, desire’s desire.
His arrows flew, igniting all,
From gods to men, to hearts so small.

He wove the bond ‘twixt land and sky,
In lovers’ gaze, in whispered sigh,
From heart to heart, his power spread,
In every union, where love led.

Thus love was born, through godly strife,
The force that binds all forms of life,
From ancient tales to souls today,
Eros guides love’s timeless sway.

©️ 2024