Best River Styx Poems
While waiting at the river Styx, in twisted time untaught,
from branches of the gallows tree, in recollections wrought,
your soul, a beggar’s blanket, hangs in crazy quilted knots,
with dangling pearls and diamond studs in dripping crimson clots,
midst gaping wounds and bulging eyes like fouling apricots,
for wrapped like rope around your throat’s the Reaper’s grim garrote.
"It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God." (Matthew 19:24)
In the shadows of the Montezuma mountains there lies an ethereal river
Ancient Greeks knew of it, and wrote legends, many which are lost.
She is the River Styx. Where your soul travels beyond flesh death.
It is a silent river; no words are exchanged. There is a somber feeling.
A hushed atmosphere as boats carry away newly returned souls.
An empath might hear the whisper of the paddles gliding in the water.
Gaia listens as the water is dipped, and souls return to the underworld.
Atmospheres of the weary tears that flow through the river Styx
Bonded by the watchful eye for Hades is in the molten mix
Cerberus is in his bliss as he watch’s the grotesque gates of hell
Death becomes as it nocturnally numbs the souls underneath its spell
Eurynomos watching rotting corpse’s aromas of the dying dead
Ferryman extends his hand, Charon’s purse must be faithfully fed
Grimly graves in massive waves of victims frivolously falling in
Hell awaits with open gates as the pandemonium does begin
Ignominious retreat for those that would repeat many lifetimes
Jagged rivers edge for those who would wedge their cunning crimes
Kabbalistic rituals leave their residuals as the underworld is overflowing
Lachrymal souls never reach their goals even in their constant crowing
Many do make it as the rest can’t shake it, to outrun the rivers grasp
Necromantic wizards cross the rivers to help undo the candescent clasp
Odysseus in his cunning shall be stunning the querulous Queen as he planned
Persephone in her majesty rigidly rules the underworld by candid command.
In Greek Mythology...a river that forms the boundary between Earth and the Underworld (the domain often called Hades, which also is the name of its ruler)
Cerberus...often called the "hound of Hades", is a monstrous multi-headed dog, who guards the gates of the underworld, preventing the dead.
Eurynomos...was the netherworld daimon (spirit) of rotting corpses dwelling in the Underworld.
Charon...is the ferryman of Hades who carries souls of the newly deceased across the rivers Styx...for a price(coins)
Odysseus...hero of Homer's epic poem the Odyssey...was a frequent visitor.
Persephone...was the daughter of Zeus and Demeter, and the queen of the underworld. She was abducted by Hades.
Sept.03.2016
Alphabet Soup - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kim Merryman
Our life is as evanescent as the
trumpet flower of the morning glory.
The merest chapter in the history
of mankind’s ever compelling story.
Various serendipitous ramblings
ultimately contingent ‘on quarry;
retold to captive audience in tones
melodious as silver-tongued lory.
Redolent of an evening-scented stock,
with a crown of wispy hair as hoary,
we insist to recount all endeavours
in its minute shocking details: gory.
An experience that's unsavoury –
remnants that cross river Styx in dory.
Poetic form: XAXA Sonnet. See my article, Introducing Three New Sonnet Forms, here on PS for more details. Also, a 'Summary of Metres' is depicted.
I stand in the swamp by the riverbank
clutching a coin I have stolen
as my heart still beats within my breast
It is only my spirit
that has slipped away
to await the ferryman of Acheron
Charon who
skillfully pilots his skiff
from there to where it flows
into Styx
He arrives and I pay the price
He places the coin in his pocket
and grabs hold of the pole
pushing away from the shore
as I lay indolent with lament
in the bottom of the boat
the icy chill of the water
seeping through the wood
Shivering I stare at the stars
silently weeping
remembering the many wishes
I made on them that went unrealized
unheard
for the Gods must have
found me unworthy
Cerberus will step aside to admit me
heads snarling
as the snakes on his back writhe
Hades will welcome me
Or he may hand me over
to be judged by Aeacus
and plunged into the pit of Tartarus
for my many sins
to be tortured for eternity
starved and beaten
my liver eaten by birds
May he have mercy on me
this sorrowful lost soul
for all I ever wanted
was to dance
carefree and content
to the music of miracles
in the golden flower filled
Elysian Fields forever
with you
Alone on the river Styx
untouchable by experience
in reach of warm safety
a reward constantly carroting
the current icy morrow
my solo journey
exciting lack
grey and without embrace
without redemption
without nature
away from god
one said that some cross the river paying the fare to Charon
the blunt old bearded ferryman, while others cross the waters
with no money but the faith alone
it’s so simple and easy to step on the sands of dismal river Styx
because men of humble class shall die
the monarchs and the noblemen die as well,
because when the evil minded go the good conscious heart also has to go, because man dies the god must also die and vanish
for no exception but all is to die
it’s so simple and easy to step on the sands of dismal river Styx
however, alas is the man with no money in his hand
or the faith in his heart, because the man has no means to
cross the river but to shiver on the bank on this side and to watch
the ferryboat going and coming without his soul
or else, to find the way back to the land and take a side-way
with the great risk for there stands Cerberus, the enormous vicious
three-headed dog, on the side-way guarding against trespassers
for he was never ceased wandering soul while on the face of earth,
he roamed around here and there to find a place to call his own
the place to dwell with the peace of mind, but unable to find one
only because he has no money or the faith,
though he spent his entire life as a wanderer on earth,
to abandon his weary soul on this side of the riverbank
and let him become a lonely wanderer again in the netherworld
by the river Styx, isn’t this an overly harsh punishment?
Forming a crossroad
Between the living
And the dead
Down this river
To the world of evil
Darkness appears
Ravens flying near
The reaper comes fourth
And take souls from the north
Putting them in pain
Making them go insane
Feasting upon there souls
Making there hearts, turn to coal
This is where the dead roam
And call there place home
Below indigenous herds of species’
Soft stampeded tramplings,
Profound caves water rivers underground.
Roots grow their nether forests
Down to a shadow fathom depth of earth.
Tendrils leaf out only tuber leaves of dirt.
Flooded backs of charcoal catacombs
Snake like water moccasins through
Aquifers to rise disguised as springs and wells.
Here there is a bargeman who
For pennies holding eyelids down
Will help you to forget
Vaguely chambered
Urges of the heart.
With headphones, to escape in wordless song
From the clammy claustrophobic, squeezed mass
A grinding stop and sliding doors open
The rush of cool air, and the exodus
The sound of diesel engines and bus brakes
The smell of exhaust and stale urine floats
Large flocks, divided by streetlights, spread forth
Peeling into vast canyons, left and right
The endless broken conversations hum
With invisible listeners afar
Eyes straight ahead and never in focus
Unseeing and anonymously vague
A taxi’s horn, the door sliding open
A destination given and silence
Kaleidoscopes of imagery pass by
Before halting at the entrance to Hell
Oh waiter
at the river styx,
striking down the might and meek.
Thou scythe
is camped outside my door;
waiting...
as with us all.
To take the good ahead of schedule.
Young branches of
The sycamore tree,
Brushes the pastel blue sky
Then, I released these magic stones into
The hands of the sky, and
Witness the ripple reflection of
The ancient River Styx
On the bank of the river Styx,
Life and death and forever mix,
There’s no keeping who its water picks,
Say farewell by the river Styx.
I lived my life in the land of light,
Yet now I cross to the realm of night.
I’ve no sorrow for my poor plight:
Yet I wonder if I left things right.
Was I smiling in my heart each day?
Was I loving in the things I’d say?
Was I steady, or did I stray?
Did I leave things in a better way?
On the bank of the river Styx,
Life and death and forever mix,
There’s no keeping who its water picks,
Say farewell by the river Styx.
You were smiling in your heart each day,
You were loving in the things you’d say.
You were steady, nor did you stray,
And you left things in a better way.
I loved your life in the land of light,
Yet now you cross to the realm of night.
How I sorrow for your poor plight!
How I wish that I could make things right!
On the bank of the river Styx,
Life and death and forever mix,
There’s no keeping who its water picks,
Say farewell by the river Styx.
Though there’s sorrow when the river’s crossed,
And I sorrow that my youth turned frost,
My tears are that our touch is lost,
That alone shall be the crushing cost.
Will you keep me in your heart’s warm place?
Will I bring a smile upon your face?
And shall our love cross time and space?
Or will I vanish without a trace?
On the bank of the river Styx,
Life and death and forever mix,
There’s no keeping who its water picks,
Say farewell by the river Styx.
I will keep you in my heart’s warm place,
And you’ll bring a smile upon my face.
And our love shall cross time and space,
You’ll never vanish without a trace.
Though there’s sorrow when the river’s crossed,
And I sorrow that your youth turned frost,
Have no tears that our touch is lost,
For our love exceeds what death can cost.
On the bank of the river Styx,
Life and death and forever mix,
There’s no keeping who its water picks,
Say farewell by the river Styx.
The golden eagel's
Sharp talons
Jack-knifed into
The River Styx
Catching prey
For her nesting
Young eaglets
they met at the bonfire
faces lit and lively against this light
both looked better after dark
we watched the show unfurl
they were oblivious to the rest of us
drawn to each other like cats to flames
alley cats that is
we made jokes about it
laughing too loudly
for we had beer and we were not used to it
October football had confused us
we were not ourselves
but neither were they
the bonfire laughed as the trickster that she is
with her yellow, red and orange flames popping
a matchmaker from the River Styx