Best Olympus Poems
I filled my heart with music of the moon
thus pulled it close about me like a wrap
my tympans gently trembled with a tune
I held my breath of starlight
and danced upon the dune
a-scratching in the sand, a manic map
I plunged into a pool of passions, pure
to swim the depths in vigor and delight
each wake of wonder, sensual and sure
a dream to deftly drown in
of damsel craves, demure
amid the dark abyssal brine of night
I bargained with a god upon the peaks
to walk abreast the clouds, as if the sea
and plumb for souls as deity so seeks
yet all the nets pulled empty
come barren, silence speaks
not due an effort, worship or decree
I stained a cloak of love with dim neglect
but painted my remorse upon the skies
so each new blushing morn would so reflect
how beautiful the earth was
through nature's grand affect
to grace even the least beholden eyes …
and leave each heart, as mine ...
to heaven's guise.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Strand Select 10, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 10th Place ~ in the "My Heart Is Full" Poetry Contest, Cindi Rockwell, Judge & Sponsor.
Of The Greeks, Olympus, Blindness Of Modern Man
And the modern Gods laugh poisoning wells
While their blinded throngs hide under sad stones
From the deepest pits come magical spells
To birth new sins from which we must atone
Blackness, its powers hold billions as slaves
As this world races towards its near doom
Freed from old chains by sleeping in new graves
We marvel at our spacious new room.
Shall we admit, that the old Gods were right?
Pride, our deep arrogance gifts us with blight!
What say you, of wisdom sent ages ago
Philosophers, artists to this world gave
Does such not deliver truth, yet still glow
Of essays, sermons authors in their graves
Dare we -yet in stone-blindness- we so dare
Ignore with the vanity of lost fools
Toss such treasure away without care
Dance in darken pits, swim in dank cesspools.
Shall we admit, that the old Gods were right?
Pride, our deep arrogance gifts us with blight!
Should this poet wonder, were those Gods fled
Far off realm, a hidden cosmos to reign
After in cruel darkness this world so bled
Leaving we mortals, wallowing in pain
Alas! Such dares not speak about it all
How in abject darkness we bow to greed
Built our tall castles with decaying walls
Because we know our failings, our great needs!
Shall we admit, that the old Gods were right?
Pride, our deep arrogance- gifts us with blight!
Robert J. Lindley,
Rhyme
I flew to Olympus, to find its heart
armor intact against Hades' dark wrath.
At birth the power of light made its start
as Homer's ghost sent me upon my path!
Yet there I found only an empty throne
where once Zeus in glory firmly reigned.
So sad! For no lighted wisdom was shown.
Such that grievous and blue, my heart was pained!
The pain and the sorrow! Where was the heart?
I fell to my knees beseeching the Gods.
Supreme and great Zeus why did you depart?
Perhaps it was the Titans, the elder gods.
Then, Callioppe came for her father,
And Themis, the divine man was bidden,
Saying, Zeus gave his heart to his lover.
Seeker be still, wisdom I have hidden!
_________________________
November 29, 2015
Rhyme
Collaboration - Robert Lindley and Broken Wings
tears fall from the eyes of a broken soul
lost without her mate of choice the shrunken soul
ask for the truth of the lie to be revealed.
From beyond, the Sufi whispers to the forsaken soul
frantic like a child without bottle
she to the machine has become the token soul.
Asked if her pride could bear the truth behind lies
she questioned the worth of pride to a stricken soul
and prepared to swallow the pill of truth.
summoning the mauve star of the Aladdin soul
truth blinded her eye and buckled her knee
causing her tongue to cleanse her awaken soul.
All has become enlighten to this new humble spirit
while I, Taylor, splinter an impious dormant African soul !
Raised among walls, of popularity from gone sages
This place, o’ gods of gods born of mothers of universe
Of human destiny, here infused for ages
Whence civilization soars, it rules even the age of my verse.
This place garnish o’ galaxy, like palace of hades
Of tiles in crystalline, in eye balls flow
Of alchemy, nations drink from its silver cup as their poverty fades
Creaking sounds of gold and wares, little little starry stars glow.
Olympus, siphoning lands, o’ air-raid subjection
Mutiny spell, sprays of orthodoxy rejection
O’ many men preach, of breach the current from here dazzle
Of many walls envisage victory, to razzle.
Oh! Olympus, never allow what I hold of you to flaw
For, nations make you victim of their law.
Uche Chidozie Okorie
Albedo feature
An edifice of great height
Is Olympus Mons
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/space.php
I hear the thunder,
He yells of the pain,
That creeps into his soul,
With blotches and blain,
The lighting strikes,
Leaving his mark in the grass,
where will he go next?
Never to return to a already touched path,
Rain splashing unto grey stones,
Drowning us with her sorrow,
Showering us with her agony,
And burying her heart to wallow ,
I wait the sun to come,
But only to be burned by her scorn,
My skin cooked from her rage,
And my body for-worn,
Then the gentle moon comes ,
And she heals me with her kiss ,
Gravity pulls me to her ,
There i lay on the crescent of her bliss.
I dreamt about the crumbling hills,
of lavender, drenched, scented
Highlights of silver dusty light,
Of starry moons, sad tormented
I dreamt of rocks rent asunder
racing to sure destruction
the sound of Cicadas
Gods who gave instruction
I dreamt of mortals bowed,
bowed deep before the thunder
I dreamt of sons who prayed
and the ramblings of their fathers
I dreamt of beauty's soft sweet form,
of cotton warmly pressed
The sound of love and life,
the shape of limb and breast
I Dreamt Titans softly crying
and infant scream in sleep
I dreamt of life and pleasant fields
water flowing still and deep
Where children dreamt of Cerberus
before the sun did finally rise
And mist would quietly disappear
between earth and burning skies
Seen life compared to so many things.
I decided to give it a shot.
My turn for an allegory or simile
Funny, when I sat at the table everyone was shocked.
I wasn't expected though the game had just started.
I automatically got dealt a hand, three cards at first.
I felt confident then; until came the forth card.
I knew about it. I wasn't anxious, I knew the rules.
A lot of time went by; I had yet to make a decision, fold or risk.
Folding is such a cowardly move but risking it may help.
Win it all or force my fold. It took me a second to look up, to realize they were all staring at me.
-“Wonder if they know my hand. Don't be stupid” said I to myself
-“The way you sweating even I would know what you got. You are struggling.”
Four cards nothing in sight, I draw another.
-What am I trying to prove, they foresaw my failure.
I should probably just fold and avoid the shame.
Winner! Winner! Chicken diner!
That is the lamest line ever.
-Another card please!
I looked at the dealer. He smiled at me.
-Did anyone notice? Does he know my hand? Dena has already given up. Here's a smart one.
Not a reaction from the dealer!
He knows!
The dealer always knows.
It's my turn to play; they are all so focus in folding that no one noticed the complicity.
I was set on failure.
When I realized that the ones who fail are those who fold too soon.
Because what they face dries their throat, runs the stress right out of their pores.
He knew my struggle; he knew my hand but yet smiled at me.
He knew something they had no idea about;
I was not folding.
It was only 23 minutes into the game.
Invitation to visit Olympus
Predestined noble affair
Feeling extremely timorous
But, Apollo will be there.
Anticipation is killing me
To think I'll meet immortals
Thrilling thought, smiling glee
Seeking Olympus portal.
Riding high on Nimbus Express
There's no other way to travel
Except I had to decompress
Or my humanity would unravel.
Immortals left me breathless
Handsome enough to be sure
Their company quite infectious
On Olympus no rancour.
Totally out of my depth
Memories enough to treasure
Eternal life there is no death
Living each day for pleasure.
Nimbus Express brought me home
Inordinate sadness feeling hollow
Parting gift a golden cell
Awesome! can talk to Apollo.
Pixabay image by: Xandra_Iryna
The spirits of the West hearing the voices,
Of the many in pain go to their aid,
Helping them to battle the,
Evil within their mind.
Their bodies have been ravaged,
With the wars they have endured.
Their journeys have been many,
And the roads that have been,
Paved are home and freedom.
Their throne in Olympus will be,
Honored with their presence,
As conquering heroes in the name of Ares,
God of War.
Nero the god! I had a dream.
There I was at the foot of Mount Olympus.
Mother was with me as usual.
As we reached a cross-roads, Agrippina said:
"Come Nero, here we turn left" But I said:
"No, mama, 'WE' do not. I'm gonna turn right!"
And that's what I did. She shouted after me:
"Become emperor, Nero, though you slay me".
The path led upwards toward the snowy heights,
past the lush vernal pastures of the lower slopes,
past vineyards and groves of olive trees,
through forests of oaks, birches,
willows, elms, yews and poplars and all holy trees,
past the crags where the chamois chewed stunted grass,
and the last brave wind-blasted pine
tossed and raged in defiance of the elements, I ascended,
till there was no other thing under heaven
but burning, blinding snow,
a conflagration no less fierce than that which now I see.
I looked down at the world of men,
and what should I see but -- ants!
The air was thin and pure - then the prize!
The summit appeared from behind a cloud-rift.
Treacherous thoughts welled up from within me:
"High climbers play with death –
death by freezing, death that lurks
in the shadow of a measureless abyss.
Was I not trespassing on holy ground? ‘
“Remember Icarus, remember Prometheus,"
sighed voices in the wind,
but then a louder voice from within me
bade me fear no counsel fit for the craven.
And so to the summit.
And what should I see when reached the Olympian heights,’
other than .....fierce Jupiter? Mighty Zeus?
I'll tell you what I saw!
There seated on an ivory throne, a frail old man,
whose long white beard fluttered in the wind.
His expression was more torpor than aught else.
That was it! He looked rather like...
some doddering old patriarch
that was Consul before Caesar's time.
As I approached, he tried to look grave and austere,
pathetically shaking his hoary senile head.
His trembling hand reached down –
I saw a quiver full of arrows
and a pile of thunderbolts at his side.’[
Now was my chance!
I seized him by the scruff of the neck,
and flung him down the mountain-side.
The last I saw of him was as he reeled
head over heels into a ravine.
Then I shouted in triumph to the four winds.
"THE OLD GOD IS DEAD.
Now I'm Top Dog. I got de thunderbolts".
Only a dream?
Perhaps. Dreams pass,
but not what they portend.
I would build you stronger
If nations come here alone to battle
And taste defeat without blood
Not for the right of ideas to prevail
But for valor to be heard
For the begining right to a discourse in word.
When barbels are broken
There is still so much to lift
The pain and human suffering
In which many are adrift.
I would build you higher
The spirit to proclaim
That the victor is not master
He is one of us, and all us dream.
So there are no superior gold
In the range of human competence
For those who cheer are heroes too
They are the reason,
We represent them in what we do ...
It is they who fall hardest when the hero fail in you.
Opportunity is the height you clear for them
Longing in their hearts
To set a trail of hope ablaze where there is no trail.
I would prime you faster
Make you run the race of life
Leaving fetters of hunger, disease, wars
And broken dreams behind.
But we should grow weaker, did we not fight
The obstacles that retard, and swarm in flight
To build with new strength
From another speed ... of vision, faith
In the unbreakable bond that like water heal
With each parting for the passage of the pantheon.
ii
We've put gods to sleep
And in their throne heroes sit
And still mortals weep
For wars were made too
By those who made the gods. Dream
Now of peace, dead kings.
*Image of Mount Olympus by Pixabay.
Wedding Top Mount Olympus
Daintiness gauges in the light
Harmonia illuminates the Hall
Aphrodite and Ares delighted
Cadmus finagles an approach
All of Olympus in observance.
~Elysium shines~
2022 January 26
Lust's Sickness throws off the yoke, of cure?
Defiant in-body, pleasures obscure.
A mask, of pride, a lost soul-in vogue capture, a hell-ride in the belly of a beastly whore.
The salt crystal shines your thirst back to you in a drowning mirror that blinds you.
It's image, in-retrograde.
Worship of false idol,
self, made, self that binds you.
You are tapewormed, pinned at the head,
eating the loop of tale.
A process processing by lassoing,
the masochism of sin.
The Harlot, riding an illusion abiding,
of perverted grandeur, aboding the Vale,
in a warped game of intelivision in the City Dell.
Rally the standard, flags, censors,
sensor a game, of shell, of humanity being played,
like a fiddle, rung like a bell.
Their humanity wanes,
from defiant song in the harmonic scale, of fever.
Their body a signet, of times despoil.
The occulus hourglass abacus mirror waxing cold,
fusion spirit, ether, spell for sale, sold.
Doors closing double
folding into the dimension of troubles.
Shopkeepers of the gates of Hell,
and souls falling onto the other.
Neon is in the blood, signed, *** - 666,
enter, the veil.
Apocalypservices,
the last vomiting throes of Society's-former Dale.
BDSM by Hollywood (wand not for display),
at the demonic re education menagerie.
Self's gallery for sale, while burning,
nativity to ashes,
carbon to polish our looking glasses.
Sold-out to the oil of midnite.
Snaking, on a torch lit by the way
of political prophet-eering incite.
Insight of conscience swayed
by field communications, too near.
Of Olympus-apothecarried by the scales in motion,
weighed by fears'-musings-fear.
By Reptilian, Orwellian, modern, progressive notions caught doing.
Explosive, fiery things.
Burn us to death, in house arrest,
in-deed to fuel one's own un, manifest.
Doing, one's undoing at the behest of the WEF