Tag: Love

Poetry

The Patient Queen

The Royal Octopus

Upon the cliffs where salt winds wail,
Penelope weaves her endless tale.
Threads of gold and sorrow entwine,
Each stitch a prayer, a sacred sign.

Her heart a lyre, strung tight with grief,
Each day a moment, each night a thief.
Yet steadfast stands her patient gaze,
Through shadowed nights and endless days.

The suitors swarm, a ravenous tide,
Greed and ambition their only guide.
They feast, they laugh, they drink her wine,
Blind to the cunning of the queen’s design.

For in her chamber, cloaked in thought,
A secret challenge she has wrought:
The bow of Odysseus, mighty and true,
A test no mortal could ever undo.

“Let he who strings this weapon of kings,
Be he the man fate’s favor brings.
And through twelve axes cast his dart,
Claim my hand, and win my heart.”

Her voice is calm, her resolve like stone,
Though love for one man fills her alone.
She bides her time, she guards her name,
A queen of patience, a master of flame.

Beyond the sea, her hero roams,
Through storm and sorrow, through distant domes.
Yet in her heart, his image burns bright,
A beacon of hope through the darkest night.

O noble queen, your strength endures,
A legend wrought of trials and lures.
For love and wit shall pierce the veil,
And bring Odysseus home to Ithaca’s tale.

2025 ©️

Poetry

The turning of Yule

The Royal Octopus

Beneath the sky so dark and deep,
The earth lies still, in winter’s sleep.
Yet whispers stir through frost-clad air,
A promise woven soft and fair.

The holly stands with crimson crown,
The ivy winds where cold comes down.
Green guardians of the season’s cheer,
They hold the light through longest year.

The oak king falls; the holly reigns,
A cycle bound in nature’s chains.
Yet in the heart of darkest night,
The sun is born, a spark of light.

The yule log burns with warming glow,
Its embers dance where shadows grow.
A circle cast, a song begun,
To greet the waxing of the sun.

Oh ancient rites of fir and flame,
The gods are near; we call their name.
Brigid, Thor, and Frey draw near,
Their blessings light the waning year.

So raise the cup and feast with glee,
For love and joy shall ever be.
The wheel has turned; the light returns,
And in our hearts, the fire burns.

2024 ©️

Poetry

The Wooden Deception

The Royal Octopus

Beneath Troy’s golden skies, so high,
The city stood, its walls defied.
For ten long years, the Greeks had fought,
But victory’s hand could not be caught.

Then cunning stirred in Odysseus’ mind,
A scheme both daring and unkind.
A horse of wood, colossal, vast,
A gift, a ruse, a shadow cast.

The Greeks feigned flight, their ships withdrew,
Their sails obscured in morning’s hue.
The Trojans cheered, their foes now gone,
And rolled the horse through gates at dawn.

“Behold,” they cried, “a prize of war,
A token left upon our shore!”
With song and dance, the night grew deep,
While death within began to creep.

For hidden in that hollow frame,
The Greeks concealed their vengeful flame.
As silence fell, their trap awoke,
And Troy was doomed with every stroke.

The gates unbarred, the city burned,
The fates of men and gods had turned.
A single ploy, a whispered lie,
And Troy fell ‘neath the starry sky.

Oh, mortal pride, so quick to trust,
So swift to fall, to fade, to dust.
The horse remains, a tale of lore,
A warning carved in myth and war.

2024 ©️

Poetry

Persephone

The Royal Octopus

In meadows vast, where sunlight played,
Among the blooms, the maiden strayed.
Her laughter rang, her feet were bare,
Her golden locks caught in the air.

But from the earth, a shadow rose,
A chariot dark where fire glows.
Hades, lord of the ashen plain,
Came swift to break her life in twain.

A scream, a struggle, petals torn,
The sky wept grief, the world forlorn.
Down to the depths, through veils of night,
She vanished, stolen from the light.

The Underworld, a realm of stone,
A hollow place, cold and alone.
Yet in its heart, a throne stood tall,
A seat of power beneath it all.

At first she wept; she cursed his name,
Bound by a fate that none could tame.
The pomegranate’s ruby stain,
Sealed her bond to his domain.

But as the days in shadow passed,
Her sorrow waned, her fear unmasked.
The silent dead bent to her will,
And in her chest stirred something still.

For she was more than harvest’s child,
More than a girl with spirit wild.
She saw in darkness hidden grace,
A strength to rule, a queen’s embrace.

No longer captive, she would reign,
With iron hand and tender vein.
Beside the king, her power grew,
A goddess born in realms anew.

And when spring called her to the skies,
To mother’s arms and azure ties,
She left behind a kingdom vast,
A part of her forever cast.

For in her heart, two worlds now meet,
A dual soul, both fierce and sweet.
Above, she blooms; below, she’s fire—
A queen fulfilled, her own desire.

2024 ©️

Poetry

Hymn to Dionysus

The Royal Octopus

O Dionysus, wild and free,
God of wine, of revelry,
With ivy crown and leopard’s grace,
You roam through night, in hidden place.

Your cup pours deep, both sweet and red,
A draught for gods, a dance for dead.
Your laughter shakes the mountain’s spine,
As mortals lose themselves in wine.

You, of the vine, the ecstasy,
The edge of joy, of mystery.
In shadowed woods, the Maenads cry,
Where boundaries fade and mortals fly.

Breaker of chains, you lead the way,
Where madness and bliss entwine and play.
Oh god who loves the wild and lost,
Who teaches joy at any cost.

O Dionysus, fierce and kind,
The muse of flesh, of heart, of mind.
We raise a glass, and sing to thee,
God of wine, of revelry.

©️ 2024

Poetry

Cassandra’s Truth

The Royal Octopus

Cassandra spoke, her voice like wind,
In temples high, where light grew dimmed;
The gods had touched her with their gift—
Of sight unasked, of mind adrift.

Apollo’s lips, she once had kissed,
And thus the god’s cruel curse was fixed;
To see all truths, in starkest glare,
Yet find no soul who’d heed her prayer.

She saw the fires before they burned,
The walls of Troy to ruins turned;
Her people laughed, dismissed her cries,
Blind to the truth within her eyes.

She warned of ships and war’s great cost,
Of heroes dead and cities lost.
But none would listen, none would stay—
A prophetess, pushed far away.

Her words, a lonely echo’s song,
Cursed to be right, but ever wrong;
In shadowed halls, her whispers fade,
Her warnings like the wind—betrayed.

And so she walks where silence reigns,
Through ancient dust and endless chains;
A voice unheard, her fate unspun—
The truth she bore, for no one won.

2024 ©️

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 ©️