Best Hades Poems


Hades Siren



            Belladonnic poison seeps from your eyes, 
          like an electric serum of Venusian alchemy, 
              one that paralyzes my sense of pride.

                            My mind oscillating, 
                                     alternating, 
                                       your gaze, 
                                     annihilating.
                                     An infusion, 
                Uranium radiating me into half life, 
                        as I look up small to thee.

                    How can you be my painkiller, 
                               stretching rack, 
                                       healer, 
                       and a killer clown surgeon 
            with a knack for stealing autonomy?

      Your touch burns with the fires of Purgatory, 
          a solar cycle casting elemental ghouls, 
           in a rogues gallery of impish valkyrie.
             Propheting in New Moon phases 
  of alignment's interferon mightocon cell mining,
beaming morse code anecdotally-
You dress me in the dark's fairie mood ring-collar- manacle- you cause me to wear in my captivity.

Endangered in the midst of your wilds,
from your strange type of phi 
that echoes from the voids-
enchantress- third eye.
I flop like a fresh caught fish 
in your net of silk, patterned telepathy.

You are a siren, a villain- bewitching 
the stormy seas- to shipwreck adventurous souls 
and harbor them on your oasiatic Isle, Circe?

So why do I feel saved, even in your captivity.
Turn me into a fattened pig, then,
do as you will,
but be the truffle of my descent 
as I forage for delicacy.

Hades

You , with those green eyes 
That melt my heart , overpower me.
Your lips touching mine 
Your giant hands burning my skin.
The two of us trapped , 
among flat boxes.
I drink from you , you drink from me,
my heart is white again.
Like a dove on its nest .
I lose  myself in the profundity of your breath,
your soul grabs mine;
and walks me through the labyrinth that is your life. 
And I feel like my wings are growing back.
-Persephone, don’t eat the juicy pomegranate seeds ! Screamed my Eng 102 professor from a distance . 
- just fly away !
-He’ll make you stay , you won’t be free ! 
Still I did .

The King of Hades

The king of hades came and rode
And split thousands many throat
From the body of men and women who float
On the blue rhyme-singing water in boat
And the massacre continued into the large city 
Crushing all the dried lilies
And drawing blood from the body of innocent farm-boys who looked tacky
And from the royal kids from a blossoming family
And from all others that are not or more than wealthy
The king of hades came and rode through all living bodies
And made them in a blink of the eyes and a pump from the lungs a breathless sleeping body
Many a women were left with an open abdomen
And some mercy-untimed killings for the men
And some more ruthless savage for the salvagers in the den
For priests are a torn face and cracked skull
For town-criers; arrows were stuck into their guts
And for many anonymously unknown, they were greeted by cold-death on swords
And for animals, some had their belly torn
And some killed by spilling a drain of blood; from a stab of their own horn
And birds who had their skin burnt
And fishes who in black boiling oil were drowned
The beautiful horror scene filled with terror is more than the eyes can afford
And more than nature could afford
What more for, what more before
The king of hades came and killed thousands, and infinity, and many more
© White Sage  Create an image from this poem.


Longfellow's Hades

My aunt was a weirdo: she talked to trees, walked around the house naked and used to read me “The Metamorphoses” by Ovid and “The Song of Hiawatha” by Longfellow as a bedtime story. “Oom-ta-ta, oom-ta-ta”, - dactyl waltzed, pages rustled and I came down dactylic stairs into my personal Hades of dreams.

Beavers are in the Styx! Bison hide in reeds from mosquitos. Herds of wild mustangs graze on the Elysium fields. Red-skinned young ladies with asphodels in plaits listen to the story of Orpheus and Eurydice that the magic Willow tells them. Everybody's happy but Charon: Hiawatha* takes Minnehaha** out in his boat. But where is the son of Rhea and Cronus and his wife Persephone? “Lookee, lookee, - Olympus laughs, - who rules the netherworld now. Henry Longfellow!”

Time passed. I grew up. Other rhymes obsessed me. But every night, having slipped past three-headed Mishe-nama***, I go down into Longfellow’s Hades in search of my late aunt. 


* The main character of “The Song of Hiawatha”.
** Hiawatha’s ladylove.
*** The character of “The Song of Hiawatha”, the king of fishes.

Premium Member I That Troddeth Through Flames of Hades To Burn

I That Troddeth Through Flames Of Hades To Burn

I that troddeth through flames of Hades to burn
Sheddeth my blacken, snakelike and scaly skin
As glowing embers scorch me, this I did learn
Man has no other course but to wallow in sin.

This dark world, its ungodly gifting of pleasure
Holds sweetest, that taste of our depraving lusts
As evil enfolds life and casts its false treasures
Its blackened winds destroy with their hidden gusts!

Pray tell, which saving grace awaits one's reaching hand
And will wield power, to a long, lost soul rescue
Doom and gloom are true shadows within this land
As rushing storms fly forth to envelope me and you!

As I pray, will you understand my great woe?
Should I run far away, will you too, dare to go?

Robert J. Lindley,
July 12th 1994, ( Why We Know God Exists )

Premium Member The Steps Ahead

. . . and with a haughty drink 
of Virgil’s water 
from the River Lethe
I venture forth knowing nothing
bring on the steps ahead 
and what awaits . . .

but the waters have a taste
and some things feel familiar
a few of the steps ahead
look like my footprints

turning to a river 
I feel I once chanced upon
and sensing
I am but circles within circles


Cereberus

Dread dog
Shadowy flame of death
Guardian,protector of the ancient doors
Where in lies the underworlds breath
So beware the craggy shores of hell
Where sleeps the hound of Hades

Hades' Coffin

The hammer of Zeus
Thrust thy nail in Hades’ coffin
Gargoyles hoist thy sails

Premium Member ''In Hades Flows a Stygian River''

In Hades flows a Stygian river 
of sorrows—a river of great despair!
It's a spiritual death that we all share
that napalms our lives and rots our liver.
Beware! Its undercurrent of dire doom
drowns us with heartless joy—it does not care,
and burdens us with more than we can bear.
We're like cadavers in a cold, stone tomb
from which can be felt and heard the death knell 
where heaven is laid waste and God is dead,
as if we’re just a breath away from hell.
Here, where living souls dare not swim or tread,
we are like phantoms—like ghosts in a shell.
Yet, we fear not hell. But despair we dread!

Premium Member Hades and Tormented Souls, the Dwelling

Hades and Tormented Souls (the Dwelling)
   (presenting a fragment of the second part promised)

Where the dark wind blows, lies abound
deep into a ravenous, hellish pit.
Lost souls cry and moan deep under ground
under evil torture each must submit.

Dark Hades, ancients called this gloom
agonizing souls, cast into Hell.
Hideous monsters working in every room
death's stinking odor the smell.

Shrill cries from pain immensely great
as tortured minds see so clear.
The miseries they and others sadly ate
embracing the dark seeds of fear.

Panic in one room, terror in another
burning brands searing souls.
So sweet the agonizing cries for mother
as demons reach their goals.

Each torment according to its worst sin
eyes gouged , for depraved acts.
Hearts sliced, tossed into a burning bin
tongues torched for lying facts.

Hands crushed for stealing other's gains
whips slashing across bloody backs.
Every torture imagined for greater pains
even burning in oil soaked sacks.

Deepest level, reserved for special guests
darkest demons there get to play.
Inflicting deeper pain by evil's requests
to those that thought never to pay!

Where the dark wind blows, lies abound
deep into a ravenous, hellish pit.
Lost souls cry and moan deep under ground
under evil torture each must submit.
 
Robert J. Lindley, 10-07-2015

Previous Note from the Acheron poem: 
Previously presented was part one- 
The Tumid River of Acheron (the journey) Part One-Revised. 

The journey into HADES by way of crossing the Styx.
The river Styx is actually an offshoot of the Acheron 
that splits into the Styx and the Cocytus. 

Part two now has two lines written. It will be titled ,
Hades and Tormented Souls (the Dwelling).. 
I have no preset limit to the second part, may be 
longer or shorter. I suspect it will be even longer.
I hope the readers enjoy this write. I wanted to do 
something dark and move away from all my love, romance 
and Nature writes. A bit of variety to stir my 
imagination...
I have made several corrections to this poem in the last
 few days.

Premium Member Seven Circles of Hades

Thirst is in the temples
Heat consuming you
Desire for a gulp of water
Under the frying fire
The only thing that matters
It is a drop of water
All riches of the world 
Are in front of you
You can have any
You want to
You can reach your hand
And touch the sky
Or pull the moon
Like a ripe apple 
And hold it tight
You can board 
A shiny heavenly boat 
That is crossing the sky
And fly away 
In to the realm of unknown
Seductive alluring world
Anything you desire
Is in a reach for you
With just one gesture 
Of your hand
But there is only 
One thing you want to
A drop of water on your
Chapped burning lips
Thirst is everywhere
It is in your mouth
Your veins your heart
Your eyes your hair
Your stomach your ears
Your mind is going blank
The only drop of water 
Is on your mind
But you can’t get it
There is no living water
To be found in the world
That was devoid
Of the presence of God
At the bottom of hades
All riches of the world 
Are there for you
To be reached and savored
But the thirst is all consuming fire
That burns your insides
And the water is the only thing
That you lust and desire
The living water is devoid 
From the underworld
And all-consuming thirst 
Is what you got
For eternity to come
If only you knew that living water
Is the only thing that matters

Styx

Styx
by Michael R. Burch
 
Black waters, deep and dark and still: 
all men have passed this way, or will.

NOTE: According to ancient Greek mythology, the Styx was the River of Death. The dead would pay Charon, the ferryman of Hades, a fare to carry them across the Styx to their eternal destination. (Hades was not "hell" as it was improperly translated in the King James Bible. Hades had heavenly regions, such as the Elysian Fields and the Blessed Isles.) The fee was normally an obolus or danake. The Greeks would place the coins in the mouths of the dead, but over time the custom would become placing coins, usually pennies, on the eyes of the dead.

Premium Member Hades

Hades





Death I saw passing by my neighborhood the other day

Some souls to harvest

Intrigued by his austere appearance I approached him and asked:

"Why oh you mighty,  Hades, we mortals terrified are at your presence?"

"Because of your ignorance", He enigmatically replied.





© Demetrios Trifiatis
       06 August 2017

*Hades,  brother of Zeus, Lord of the underworld. His name means the " Unseen One".

My Muse Has Gone To Hades

My muse has gone to Hades, is that hell?
I   sing for her  while my heart palpitates
Wow, I’ll be  in  demonic  space as well

I think my little cat has  lost her bell.
On my plight, I sit and meditate
My muse has gone to Hades, is it hell?

The cat can’t phone, if only she could  yell.
I  hear my thoughts  and manic,  agitate.
Soon I’ll be  in  demonic  space as well

I wish that animals could use a cell.
All they can do is eat and procreate
My muse has gone to Hades, Villa Knell

I hear that poets should show but never tell
All I can do  with wit is cogitate.
Will  I fly to inner  space as well?

I earn enough,more than the going rate
I use black pens and you should see my state
My muse has gone to Hades,  give her hell
Oh,  I  am   lured to  ink dark  space as well!

Thinking Upon Hades

Swindling all the small things, Trolling graveyards
For ghosts that just don't seem to be anywhere
I think they live in the imagination alone.

Yet my fingers wave in the wind like leaves,
They ready to break off and fall,
Slowly - graceful like circus acrobats.
Eventually settling on the ground.

Mmm..I always did love the crackling
sound autumn leaves make..
Almost like walking through fire,
Almost like home..

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