Best Persephone Poems
Do you want to know how the pomegranates tasted?
Oh mother dear, would you like to know how they felt?
Like freedom.
Oh mama, don’t you know?
He didn’t kidnap me.
He didn’t have to.
If we’re being honest here,
I stole him.
With all his darkness and silence,
his dark kingdom with no queen-
it’s so alluring.
No longer am I merely a flower
and the power of being queen is addictive
Oh Mother dearest,
your darling sister is using her power wrong.
Using it with spite and pettiness,
what a foolish woman.
my kingdom is smoke and bone,
my lovers eyes are brimstone and his mouth
is stained red with pomegranates
that taste like blood.
You warned me against gods like him,
told me the story of your brothers,
how they were all trouble those three.
told me to never taste his world, no matter how tempted.
But mother, oh do you know how he tastes?
The pomegranates were so very tempting.
it’s really not so dreadful here.
All I really wanted was to be queen,
I suppose was a tad more ambitious than you Mother
And who is going to question my rule?
It’s so funny
how my husband, always kind and faithful,
is always the villain,
and I, the goddess of flowers, am ever the victim.
Isn’t it funny how everyone only knows your side of the story.
But that’s okay,
they don’t know how I love my power,
as Queen of the Dead.
They’ll never know the hunger of the flower queen
Don’t you realize how difficult eating pomegranates is?
I had to pry the fruit open with my bare hands fingers bloody from
nails breaking
I used to be so weak.
And if they still look at me and see,
only a rose ready for picking,
oh, mama, they deserve to prick my thorns and bleed.
Seeds of pomegranate
in my belly
This girl wonders how much of her
Is alive
above ground
Or circling Cerebus
as he chases his tail
(If u r stuck in a dream then aren't u only half living?)
I live with eyes wide open
The Gorgon's stare does not deter
We use people as tarot cards
to guide our destiny
Entrails are likely more reliable
Persephone, as sorrow and as grief,
The world and all its tales are told in brief.
The mirth of all the ages comes to this:
A sunlit sorrow and a broken bliss.
The laws of sorrow rule the lives of men!
And we are different words within that line,
That may, together, solve its mysteries when
Arranged within a harmony divine.
And therefore, sorrow’s children are we all,
And we, like tears, together stay or fall.
Beyond our reach are we, what e’er we clutch.
We are not who we are, but who we touch.
There is no realm where sorrow doth not go!
Nor shall it be a stranger to thy soul.
So make it thy companion, not thy foe.
With sorrow and compassion, both be full.
Then wear thy grief, but wear thy grace as well,
And walk no more the Plains of Asphodel.
Leaven lands thou left, light love, light ladies!
Persephone, thy spring is not for Hades.
April is the month Persephone comes back
from Tartarus, crossing the river of death, Styx,
with her stillborn child in her breast. The river she crosses with
her child though flows while carrying the empty souls, it does not move.
The river she crosses for the sake of her child though ferries the dead on the boat, it shows no emotion.
April is the month Persephone comes back
to this side of the pool of memory holding dead child in her breast.
For the curse of seven unripe pomegranate seeds became Hades’ chain, Persephone, who spent long and shivering cold winter months
in the bosom of an unloved husband at Tartarus, comes back turning her relieved, yet deep anxious face, away from the bright sunlight shining on the other side of black poplars forest.
April is the month Persephone, the childless mother,
comes back as a rancorous sad lullaby, while soothing
her swollen breasts with sighs, holding her stillborn child
closely on her tight breast to let the child suck her teat.
April is the month Persephone mourning in the black chiton
comes back as a well of tears. Each time she advances,
she cries because it is so pitiful for her to realize
that the child in her arms is breathless.
Each time she steps forward, she cries because it is so woeful
for her to acknowledge that the child in her arms is soulless.
April is the month the barren woman, Persephone,
who lived in the netherworld to experience such a miserable life
during the dark and long shivering winter months, comes back
with the stillborn child wrapped in the quilt, woven with yarns
spun from the threads of sighs as she warp of resentment,
and yarns spun from the threads of tears as the woof of grudge,
in her feeble weary arms.
Persephone
Queen of the Underworld
Wife of Hades
Surrounded by demons
Greek Goddess of spring
Easily tempted
A tiny bit cursed
Full of innocence
Persephone
The conclave efflorescence
Within a verdant equinox
Dancing in the fiery heat
Fictitious to Our Glass clocks.
And in this angelic indifference
A turbulent serenity is generated and
In the heart of this illustrious image,
The smallest stem stretches grand.
A gathering of flowers
A “stronghold” on powers
A sanctuary on grass
And immunity to showers
My dearest Persephone,
My longest desire,
My inner-most fear,
My heart you inspire,
Ring-around-the-rosy
The fields are cramped and cozy.
The passion plays
In these bouquets
The flowers blossom
The flowers wither
And grow in green and gray.
Gathering her thoughts within
Gazing eyes into the deep
Persephone of ivory skin
Is lost in memories to keep
Her wishes drift like moonbeams
Startling the rippling pond
Knowing it's not as it seems
Desire fuels her earthly bond
Persephone has felt the love
Of gentle seasons come to pass
The angel chatter from above
Rings in the ears of this dear lass
She bends into the drifting flowers
Breathing their fragranced design
Lilting moments turn to hours
As for her lover she does pine
Yet,she has left this earthly plane
Heaven's cobbled streets she's trod
Persephone cannot remain
For she has kissed the face of God
By Deb Wilson
for contest"Reflection"
sponsored by Constance La France~A Rambling Poet~
The wind carries my song
From my lips to the corners of the earth,
And the flowers in gladness bloom,
The trees stand a little taller,
And the springs bubble from the roots of the mountains.
The wind carries my whispers
From my teeth to the skies.
But I am oblivious to their sound;
My musings fall not upon my own ears.
Give me grace to renounce my own voice on the wind,
For sometimes I don’t believe it’s there,
Despite the love of flowers for the sound in air.
And yet I sing on
Desperate to hear the melody for myself,
Clinging on to an ancient belief
Give me grace to renounce
Gray,
Dismal
Rainy days.
Then leafless trees,
As it gets warmer,
All start to sprout new buds.
Migratory birds appear.
Abandoning the underworld,
And the ruler of the dead, Hades,
Persephone returns to Demeter.
I welcome your winds, these triumphant storms.
The gleeful cries of the mother who mourned.
Winds carry my soul as I cheer with thunderstorms.
Quickly I shall ride on the fields once scorned.
Creation flits upon Demeter’s song.
New life, a chorus filling lands once dead.
Songs so divine lure Helios along.
Twas Persephone so pure he had glimpsed.
Your gales hold songs filled with a mother’s love.
Yet as spring gallops from your bold embrace.
Chasing winter with the call of the dove.
Autumn comes forth from Orpheus’s staircase.
So shall the seasons shift, as do the tides.
For now I relish in all she provides.
March 5th 2021, Breath of Spring Poetry Contest, Sponsored by Regina McIntosh
What king forsakes the ruling of his heart
To bow before a queen of cruel sting
Who takes but six sharp bites and then departs
When west wind and sun play in brutal spring—
Least of all the high king of Arctic gold
Who will call all at last to his domain;
Why fiercely kiss disloyal marigold
As if silk petals could console the pain
Or striped carnations' sweet and satin blade—
Sweet when they cover wide, denying eyes
But bitter as they heave through breath afraid
Bitter pain with miscoloured iris lies—
What God brings destruction to his own love
Love dishonest and never spoken of?
Wandering the fields of nature, breezes gently blowing by,
She captured the hearts of many; she was a beauty in their eyes.
The daughter of a god, Zeus, all powerful and strong
And Demeter, goddess of harvest, in her eyes, she did no wrong.
Persephone, the daughter, helped her mother tend the fields
The fertile land created, the prosperous harvest yields.
While wandering the field that day, the ground broke open wide
Hades, god of the underworld, came out and took his bride.
Into the depths of his lair, Persephone had descended
Hades came to steal the beauty, for as he had intended.
Zeus would not agree, to the marriage of the two
So, Hades did what he always felt he had to do.
Demeter, not knowing, searched the world, land and sea
In hopes of finding and bringing home, the girl Persephone.
While wandering and searching, the crops, they had all died.
For, they would never flourish, while Demeter searched and cried.
Zeus sent word to Hades, to send his daughter back home
But Hades, being tricky, had an idea all his own.
He had her eat some seeds from the fruit his garden yields
A pomegranate, cursed, a pact with him now sealed.
For when she took upon herself to eat of Hades’ seeds
She sacrificed her own wants and satisfied his needs.
As a result, she was bound to return to him each year
For a season long, she was gone and Demeter shed her tears.
Demeter, always wanting Persephone to have stayed
Gave up the crops for that time while she had gone away.
Each year she went to Hades, as bound, that was the reason
Unto the earth, Winter was born, the harvest’s downtime season.
From those days on, she would be known no longer as that girl
Taken as bride, she became the goddess of the underworld.
Yet, I do know a little of the law:
For all its forms but fortify from flaw.
To that which renders beauty must it serve,
Nor from this purpose, may it ever swerve.
From solemn silence, symphonies upswell,
And half the year I’ll dwell in Asphodel.
For I have found that - there are autumns, too,
And ice of winter doth the springs renew.
I apologise for killing you,
Can you ever forgive me?
Yes you can, I know you can
You know how the things have been.
You know how the things have been,
Almost 10 years of weeping
I know just how tired you were,
About time, I put you to sleep.
You've grown so much since
The first and the second try.
Still you're here, at the same place.
Swallow all of them before you lie-
You had no hell to turn to,
You were just waste of soul.
People here, they pity you Kore,
In nobody's life you have a role.
It wasn't enough, I'll admit,
But Persephone, you did your best.
No one cared, not even you
Even if you tried, you couldn't be the rest.
Seph, sweetheart, I'll pray for you
Hope you never reincarnate.
I didn't lock the door last night,
So at least they don't have to break it.
You look happy, well, I don't know that
But I sure hope that you really do.
Goodbye, little girl,
I'll miss myself too.
In the Underworld they drink pomegranate margaritas
I am certain.
If you had an endless supply of damned fruit to yourself
would you not do the same?
I’m sure Hades is sick of slender Persephone
in her pink rose perfume
and lilac pearls
telling him he drinks too much,
that he might just drink himself to death
if he wasn’t already there.