Tag: Hellenism

Poetry

Demeter

The Royal Octopus

Beneath the earth, the shadows spread,
Where light once warmed the fields, now dead.
Demeter roams with tearful eyes,
Her daughter lost to darkened skies.

The wheat is still, the harvest cold,
No golden grain, no tale to hold.
Her arms, once full of life’s embrace,
Now reach for Persephone’s stolen face.

Each flower wilts, each tree stands bare,
The bitter winds weave through the air.
Her sorrow’s deep, her cry a storm,
A mother’s love, without its form.

She waits in winter’s long, cold reign,
For spring to bring her child again.
But in her heart, the ache remains,
A world untouched by joy’s refrain.

For when the earth beneath is torn,
A mother’s grief is everborn..

©️ 2024

Poetry

The Titanomachy

The Royal Octopus

In ages old when dawn was young,
The heavens roared, the earth was wrung,
Titans and gods in wrathful dance,
A battle born of vengeance, chance.

On Othrys’ peak, the Titans frown,
Primordial might, their ancient crown.
Cronus, their king, with scythe in hand,
Ruled with fearsome iron command.

Yet from below, the thunder cried,
Olympus rose, its gods defied.
Zeus, the son of storm and flame,
Led forth the host, in power, came.

With thunderbolt and lighting’s lash,
He cleaved the skies with fiery flash.
Poseidon raised the seas in rage,
Tidal fury, nature’s cage.

Hades called the earth to part,
Shadows dark and cold of heart.
The Titans fought with strength untamed,
But slowly, their bright essence waned.

Atlas bent beneath the sky,
As gods above claimed victory high.
Prometheus, wise with foresight keen,
Betrayed his kin for what he’d seen.

Ten years of war, the earth did groan,
Until the gods had claimed their throne.
The Titans bound, beneath the earth,
Their rule now ashes, without worth.

And so the skies and seas took peace,
The reign of gods would never cease.
But in the deep, the Titans wait,
Their ancient hearts still burn with hate.

2024 ©️

Poetry

Hera’s plea

The Royal Octopus

Hera stood before Him, her voice but a plea,
In the halls of Olympus, she showed her vulnerability.
“Zeus, my husband, my king, my heart,
Why must we always stand worlds apart?

Is my love not enough, my arms not warm?
Why stray to others and cause me this storm?
I’ve borne your rage, your whims, your fire,
Yet still, I remain, bound to your desire.

Look to me, and see all I can be,
Not just the queen, but your eternity.
The heavens, they tremble when you betray,
Yet here I stand, though you drift away..

Do they offer you more than the stars in my eyes,
Than the love in my heart or my soft, faithful sighs?
Do you really not feel the weight of my tears,
As you chase after shadows through these endless years?

I’ve asked not for power, nor thunder, nor throne,
Just you by my side, and you alone.
For every lover, I fade in your skies—
Zeus, please, let me be the sun in your eyes.”

She waited, and waited, her heart heavy, like stone,
While the king of gods sat silent on his throne.

2024 ©️

Poetry

An Eternal Love: Hades and Persephone.

The Royal Octopus

In the shrouded depths where shadows creep,
Where endless night and silence sleep,
The king of darkness waits alone,
Upon his cold and ancient throne.

His heart, once barren, void of flame,
Spoke only death, unknown to name.
But in the earth, a flower bloomed,
A spark of life where none presumed.

Persephone, with light so pure,
Her laughter gentle, touch demure,
A goddess bright with verdant grace,
Brought spring to every barren place.

But fate entwined them, night and dawn,
A pomegranate, a story born.
Through winter’s grasp and summer’s reign,
Their love would bloom beyond the chain.

For in his arms, she found her peace,
In her eyes, his darkness ceased.
Together they reign, a balance of two,
In death and life, forever true.

No chains could bind what love had made,
No world could part their endless shade.
For even in the deepest night,
They find each other, purest light.

And so beneath the moonless skies,
Where shadows dance and time denies,
Hades and Persephone stand as one,
Eternal love, their story begun.

©️ 2024

Poetry

Arachne’s Thread

The Royal Octopus

With nimble hands, I wove my art,
A tapestry spun from the depths of heart.
Each thread a story, each stitch a song,
In mortal skill, where none belong.

The loom was mine, my gift, my pride,
In every pattern, the world complied.
Yet gods, they watch with a jealous eye,
To see a mortal touch the sky.

Athena came with wrathful glare,
A challenge born of pride’s despair.
She wove the heavens, grand and wide,
But still, my threads refused to hide.

In every weave, I dared to show
The truth the gods had feared to know:
Their faults, their folly, clothed in grace,
A mirror held to power’s face.

For this, my gift was torn away,
No human hands allowed to stay.
A twisted form, a cursed fate,
To spin in darkness, bound by hate.

Yet in my web, the threads remain,
A testament to mortal pain.
I weave the truth the gods can’t see—
That even cursed, I still am free.

2024 ©️

Poetry

The curiosity of Pandora

The Royal Octopus

In ancient tales, Pandora’s hand
Held not a box, found in the sand
Instead she found a jar of clay,
Sealed tight against the light of day.

Inside, the secrets of the world
Like dormant storms, lay tight and curled.
The gods had placed them, every care,
Each human woe was nestled there.

Curious heart, she turned the key,
The jar’s mouth opened silently,
And from its depths came every ill—
Despair, disease, and bitter will.

Yet in the jar, one thing remained,
When all the world was scarred and pained—
A flicker, small, yet shining far:
Hope, still waiting in the jar.

So now I tell of what she bore,
A jar of sorrows, yet much more—
For even in the darkest plight,
Hope lingers softly holding tight.

2024 ©️

Poetry

Fair Helen

The Royal Octopus

A face that launched a thousand sails,
Through storm and sea, with winds that wail,
The golden glow of dawn’s soft light,
Framed her beauty, pure and bright.

In marble halls and kingdoms wide,
She stirred the wrath of men with pride,
For love or lust, her name was sung,
As kingdoms clashed, and hearts were wrung.

A queen, a prize, a dream, a flame,
In every whisper, spoke her name.
But was she more than mortal grace,
A curse, a myth the gods embraced?

Yet Helen, ever bound to war,
Remains a legend, nothing more—
A symbol of what beauty’s worth,
When torn between the sky and earth.

2024 ©️