Best Sisyphus Poems
Sisyphus. The Might.
Death now humiliated,
chained by mortal king,
will you remain with the dead ?
No. This is not yet your realm.
Sisyphus. The Craft.
Hades now outraged,
outwitted by mortal king,
do you yet deceive the dead ?
Yes. Such remains your realm.
Sisyphus. The Hill.
Zeus, now intercede,
chastise the mortal king,
will his eternity be spared ?
No. Such is not his reward.
Sisyphus. The Heft.
Might fades, craft fails,
contrite the mortal king,
is the futility to endure ?
Yes. Such is his reward.
Sisyphus. Now Fall.
19th July 2020
Sisyphus wished to overcome the death,
This the gods did never like, the myth says;
It's hence they decided to take his breath,
In ways other than the very death plays.
They gave him a big boulder, the myth reads,
To carry it from the foot of a hill;
To its top and when reaching there he needs,
To drop it down and thus continue still.
Courageous, king Sisyphus went ahead,
And took charge of the huge molded boulder;
It was as heavy as a rock of dread,
Yet to it he boldly rubbed his shoulder.
Though this task was meaninglessly absurd,
Sisyphus performed it faithfully true;
This punishment was a concept so blurred,
He carried it on life's greatness to prove.
Feared by the penance of absurd labor,
Sisyphus did not wish to end his life;
He turned the task to fit in his favor,
Accomplished it amidst terrible strife.
He had his great relaxation just then,
While returning to the foot after drop;
This gave him great courage and strength again,
Each time to reach the rock to the hilltop.
The myth of Sisyphus tells me the truth:
Rebellion in life is essential too;
When the old paths are not soothingly smooth,
Paving new is an obligation true.
23 June 2021
i work hard, Sir
and well, Sir
but you said
it was not enough
So i worked harder,
Sir
still well, Sir
but you said it
was not enough
So i worked faster,
Sir
and longer, Sir
but not so well, Sir
and my kids forgot
my face.
To my disgrace, Sir
you said the quality
my work
had dropped
and still was not
enough
So i work harder,
Sir
still well Sir
and wait for the
day, Sir
with your behind me,
Sir
i step aside, Sir
and let you taste my
rock.
MCMXCVI - This
originated as I was
at my workstation on
a glorious Sunday
when i should be
walking through the
changing colors with
my family
Each day I spend a little time with my friend Sisyphus in the morning,
He tries his best to give me advice or at least to offer up a warning.
He can tell by the way I work that sometimes I spin my wheels,
Trying hard to get somewhere and he knows exactly how it feels.
The harder you push to get something done the bigger the task becomes,
Until it’s nearly impossible to get it right and you feel like you’re all thumbs.
He tells me just to do my best and to keep my nose pressed to the stone,
And try to remember that there’re others in the race and I am not alone.
Then he wishes me well and tells me he has an uphill battle to fight,
And as long as he isn’t flattened by the rock he thinks he’ll be alright.
Sometimes I listen to him and to the things that he has to say,
But other times I stop to think that there must be a better way.
Because if all there is to living is to go to work and each day grow a little older,
Then you’ve missed the point and you’ve already been flattened by the boulder.
So I look for things that bring me joy and add them to my day,
And eventually those little bits of color block out the shades of gray.
Tis quite a beast of burden to bear atlas (shrug off not allowed)
Atlas shrugged an impossibility
tantamount to skinny dipping in the lock nest lagoon
Tantamount to shrugging Atlas off mine bony,
ill suited, widower wizened shoulders,
would take naked fat chance in Fountain Head of virgin waters,
eddy fied with huge boulders
which preliminary sketches to maintain pristine
(pure as Snow White's booty) kept in folders
when collaborative effort called, the fore mid able,
trio, sans state of the artists
(within their respective trades as writer
fictional hero, and architect)
Ayn Rand, John Galt, and Howard Roark,
who undertook resplendent measures
affected resilient as omnipotent cable
tub ring plenti kickstarting linkedin gatecrashers
to a snapchatting halt
instagramming, crowdsourcing, crowdfunding,
held at equivalent asper Bay of Pigs
viz Pay of Bigs
(in this context identified as
(vudu trained stalwarts, petsmart outlook,
incorporating literary, metaphorical,
nautical staff comprising fable
sea Crete cure metamorphoses abilities, as failsafe method –
i.e., physically, instantaneously, architecturally rendering
modus operandi capacity asper quick as blazing saddles
(ponied up by young Frankenstein)
kept in fireproof stable,
where at dextrous fingers ala hocus-pocus prestidigitation
which chiefly buoyantly ardently, and hardily drafted imp pier re: hull
rock hull impediment for shore also cast evil spells should
any foolish soul, who dared
to maneuver past the near blinding pier sing redoubt
to access blue lagoon like watery oasis
shielded via reeking poor Island
(where an atomic rooster gargoyle shrouded parapet)
buffeted the crashing waves against
the lock smooth as a glass table
whose wooden sea legs solidly affixed
to hip, hip hooray three chairs
inviting two story book heroes plus the author,
unfurling parchment scriptural roles invited ad lib flairs
since threat of category five hurricane
manifested took writer by surprise,
thus requiring her to utilize cognitive gears
which necessitated modification of original plot,
now bumped credos with religion
vis a vis engendering prayers.
I scale a mountain high
Sandals on feet propel me toward the sky.
Breathing thin air through thin nostrils I sweat and try
To minimize being battered by the razor winged fly
That scalps my beard and the lashes of each eye.
Honestly, with each heavenly step I try
But stumble, and am humbled to cry…
Not for lack of joy or for lack of sadness, but for my
hollow motive: deception is a lie.
And yet I persist to wonder why
This task is a punishment and a crime. I
Yearn to know, but through weariness, sigh.
Sisyphus would hardly stop
even on the mountain's top.
Volodymyr Knyr
2017
In September knights are rambling around the streets.
Forgotten heroes in the wrong season
Search for their hunted castles
on a wet sand.
Rain is washing out all those promises
summer has spread, is cleaning each illusion,
With colorless tears of Heaven.
In September mountains are growing higher
And seas pulsate around melodies of the wind,
Around the past, around leaves' changing breath,
Around the Season's final quest.
In these lonely days, which carry the weight of a change,
Like Sisyphus plate,
I was born.
hard worker being
he really wants that ball
horn stuck on the thorn
happy like the Sisyphus
hill that heap a sound of stones
7:01 ~ this isn't any fun.
7:02 ~ but what can i do?
7:03 ~ the gods have it in for me.
7:04 ~ i can't stand this torture anymore.
7:05 ~ i can't die; I'll be always alive?
7:06 ~ how did i get myself into this fix?
7:07 ~ why am I barred from getting to 7:11?
7:08 ~ please! get this hell off my plate.
7:09 ~ oh, stop it with that unbearable line!
7:10 ~ "go back to 7:00, and start all over again."
7:01 ~ this isn't any fun.
7:02 ~ but what can I do?
7:03 ~ ...
Sisyphus
He rolled the boulder with his burdened shoulder up that treacherous summit
Tricked in hubristic self-righteousness again and again he thought he had done it
We engage in similar madness regardless of whether Gods punished us somehow
or we simply can’t fathom another journey on the path to inner enlightenment
miss the signs and the signposts when or ways fail when stones refuse to relent
but can be split into fragments when we grant us permission for change and allow
release alternative solutions of metaphorical splinters from arrogant highbrow
where peaks of peace result from shattered acceptance and humble atonement
Once we’re forgiven
and forgive our delusion
that we know and are certain
hold truth when we don’t
stones can roll all by themselves
and moss rests at the cliff face
By any river, all the waterfalls,
Every scene of life, we toast the stars.
we run and we sing, with passion in heart
Just like Kurt's guitar: broken apart.
Shrinking the world, borders go away
In this fantasy, we'd better stay.
Mind strong words, that set us free
Freedom is key, for you and for me.
Life is a movie by Wes Anderson;
Absurd yet superb, Don't leave it unshown.
Across ups and downs, we'll face any risk
When yearning is guide, we pass them brisk.
Don't escape from dark day of roaming
Let's go through the endless gloaming.
Youth is a fire, that burns the fear,
It's not so easy, but deem it dear.
give your restless hand, let's tango in sync,
With the "sweet life", we drown and think.
Listen to Horace and seize every day,
In our tough journey; we'll find every way.
Oh, let us defy... death's cold embrace
And let our dreams; soaring in space.
In time's symphony, for morrow's bright,
The moon and the sun, lead us through night.
Together we'll seek a purpose untold,
Find the meaning of the boulder we hold.
For life is a song, a chord to play.
Tune with it but, forget to obey.
I only wanted to cry so that I could cry out to you.
When I cried did you hear me?
I needed to speak so I could speak your name.
Did I speak clear enough for your ears?
I strived to walk so I could walk to you.
When I walked did I reach you?
I educated myself in the hopes of understanding you.
Why are you so sovereign?
All that I do is to reach you.
Why do I not arrive?
Now I know that I must die to be with you.
Can you hold me while I suffer?
I am
King Sisyphus.
Known as noble and great
Why such jealousy among gods?
They wanted my great doom.
Hence the trial
Boulder!
I am
King Sisyphus.
I carried the boulder.
I proved I am greater than them.
They were so astonished.
I felt better.
Bolder!
I am
King Sisyphus.
I say, win over death.
Keep your mind, spirits united.
Overcome all hurdles.
Give brethren your
Shoulder!
I am
King Sisyphus.
Give confidence to all.
The universe calls you ever.
Fight! Erase all evils.
May God be your
Molder!
26 May 2021
Heptastich Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
“Sisyphus in love”
stuck in a forever
flowering field
of oddly
even
petalled daisies
day in and day out
plucking and chanting
she loves me
she loves me
not