Journey,
Hurry.
Driving,
Striving.
Hostels,
Portals.
Hold raft,
Hard graft.
Giant,
Tennant.
Blinded,
Blighted.
Circe,
Tricky.
Swine herd,
He heard.
Circe,
Sleepy.
Prophet,
Home set.
Hades,
Tight squeeze.
Converse,
Reverse.
Stop-off,
Gods’ shove.
Birth place,
White lace.
Suitors,
Looters.
Disguise;
My eyes.
Deceive,
Relieve.
Kill all,
Wife tall.
Freedom,
Kingdom.
Love will,
Prevail.
Hear me, blonde tressed bonnie-lassie!
Kill me not by thine raunchy eyes.
Never could ye imprison me
By thy voluptuous coax
Thou can't get blood out of a stone
Akin to it, tranquility from my heart
I'll never get drowned to your fathomless sea of love
As I fell in love with nature
Rose, indeed, art thou be depicted by bards
Lacks they, to ponder spine thee beneath it
Trust I on a hissing snake
Than an enticing Circe
Virile juvenile may thou admire
Realize they not in thy love quagmire.
The versatile goddess Circe shapeshifts herself into a dolphin
Happily diving in and out of the waters of the island of Aeaea
From a balcony the king watches her, recognizing her power
Her magic lures him closer to the edge, he is mesmerized
She jumps high into the air, entertaining him
Knowing full well she is enticing him into the deep waters
Amóre; what is that, he wondered,
before, before her, before the raw
Circean glimpsed across the buzzing
dance crazed rhythmic beating pulsing room.
Erudite, perniciously droll his
father was, he could have been, the old
generation, but not him, no sir;
he was master of the universe.
It took a while to traverse the room,
jam-packed with hot, febrile bodies in
karezza writhings, bodies touching;
love, or lust, on their minds and on his.
"May I?" "May you what?" She taunted;
neither spoke; both stared. His head bowed in
obeisance, bright red shoes his focus.
Power shifted, as both knew it would.
Quarry now the huntress, wolf killer
relishing command, his submission.
Slowly, mischievously; a wink; words;
"take me to your room, this moment, now
undress me; like you have already."
Vainglorious once; now, kin to a
witless fool, he stood, helpless; she stared;
x-rayed him with her cold steel-blue eyes;
"you're blushing," she whispered. The words like
zephyrs softly caressing his face …
Poets, do not be discouraged, neither young nor old,
Uncertain verses can pierce stone, or iron,
Just believe those you love you, endure the headwinds,
To think that at the end of the sea there is America and its buffalos,
Just cross rivers with dangerous Indians,
The Amazon, the White Nile, or the great Mississippi, are friends,
Poet, do not be discouraged, do not deviate,
In front of Whitman shining in the diamond sky,
Follow your path, on the great snowy plains,
Follow your path, in the villages of Lower Brittany,
In the hotels of Sichuan, or Manaus,
Warm your heart in Calypso’s arms,
Think of Circe whose beauty poisoned Ulysses
Poet falls in love with the sea, the stars,
Do not be discouraged, Poet, you can be still and quiet like water, or
You can become a torrent in the mountains of Wyoming,
A verse is always an object of the future,
“Drop by drop, water pierces the stone.” (1)
NB (1) From Lucrèce in Montaigne les essais
"Envelope"
We knew what we were about
when we signed up
the other side of the mirror
mothers become gods
for a short while
and perhaps
long after
what servant is man
when he believes
he’s as big a god
in the realm
of playing children
lost for a time
in Bedlam
forgotten
sunk in the idea of building
something better, drunk on
below depth power
another's mindfield sucked on
like marrow from the bone
errant property lost somewhere
in that runaway train
women have always
held the Circe key
golden apples 3
before a goddess
unbreakable power held
within
true strong queens
locks
never guarantee
safety
and doors
sometimes disappear
in the undertow
invisible
drowned
and
envelopes
closed portals
don’t open
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"Lilith" / Halsey
https://youtu.be/arSQHqPqxx8
LYRICS/ "Lilith", Halsey
https://genius.com/Halsey-lilith-lyrics
My favorite legend still has salt on it,
white freckles left from the sea of Colchis.
If you search carefully,
you might even find a whisp of golden byssus
slipping into your palm.
Chart laid out,
course set for the ram of Phrixus;
fleece beyond the friendly sea
one must brave the clashing rocks.
The gods will have their game,
but none can tame Lord Jason
but Medea,
daughter of Aeëtes,
high priestess of the temple,
beloved niece of Circe, who turned all men to beasts.
How many months at sea,
men slowly turning bronze behind the oars,
only men for company and out sight of shore.
How they must have bathed in the sea
as bare as fish
and just as quick and shining.
How well they mastered ropes and sweat,
muscles wrapped around their bones.
Who remembers who mended the sail?
No one. Yet on they sailed!
March 3rd 2020
Contest: Favorite Legend
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Ocean (Circe)
Clearly an abyss,
you paint your lips blue,
adorn yourself in light's zirconium-hue-
masquerading as some golden gem, laden Queen.
Lying in your bed in waiting,
offering the possibility of adventure,
of hidden world's of retreat.
Your magic mesmerizes and flaunts.
Teases with possibilities imagery.
Endless font.
Stories to sell.
Corrupting your fools, licking your taunts upon their feet.
Mermaids minions in seductions reflection so
demure.
Reflecting the sky with their tails.
You are a sourceress,
a prostitute and a street, storefront sign purely forged in a spell.
A true window to your soul and it's keep, that rolls like a dungeon on the back of a Great turtle.
That of a corrupting changeling,
unpurely-changing with every phase shift of swell.
Your great alchemy is fusing illusion with serenity's false sleep.
With your ambitions that run silent, and run deep amongst that subsiding pillow.
Your platform for your maelstrom of sinking- through Azurine- dreams.
Your quicksilver beads above the morpheant sands that flows so easily,
like the lies that lie beyond men's reach.
A fawn was ousted into light
At Moira’s playful whim;
Its mother’s keening birthed delight
Too rapturous to limn.
If Circe were to steer your craft
To her Olympian shore,
Into your hair the wind she’d graft
Your favor to restore.
Into that fawn you’d then be turned
To quell her jealous lust,
Which never has so brightly burned
Nor risen quite so fast.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
Limited in language, mighty in message, they are
signaling us: They are embracing each other, knowing
the heart is what matters. They are darting out
with serpent tongues, forked or otherwise,
nevertheless speaking the truth.
They are undulating like Circe in heat. They are fans,
waving to China, until, the "aidez moi" fails, and then
they are consigned to Braille in an endless silence;
feet, bound at birth, promised to the philandering
roots, the mighty pillar that supports them.
Overhead, an invisible plane rises straight up
to the Big Okay, leaving a trail of tissue, taking our
tenuous dreams and aspirations to the place where
they should go. If only we knew the way.
Keats—Romantic Humanist
Romanticus-Extraordinaire
John Keats
La Belle Dame sans Merci
Circe-Enchantress to all.
Beautiful, deadly in her elfin grot
Supernatural-nous
She wept and sighed full sore
Hath thee in “Keatsian” thrall.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
August 17, 2015 (Double Dactyl)
If I be Witch; Enchantress, yes!
Hades own sweet Sorceress
My Siren's Song to him belongs
Medea, may I wear your dress?
By Spell or Charm, I mean no harm,
Your beating Heart is all I need
Oh, Circe's swine! Where is mine?
Must I pray to Hecate?
With Titan's wrath, as Heroes pass,
I shall capture one for me!
*I have an immense love for Greek mythology so this piece may be more difficult to understand if you are not familiar with the references. "Hecate" is pronounced "Heck-a-tee" and "Circe" is pronounced "Seer-see" or "Sir-see" :)
Don’t give me your porcelain smile –
The ethereal agent of your fraudulent ways,
Which you summon to lure another helpless heart,
Bound tight to the mast of a sinking ship –
A trap to fool a new Odysseus
Don’t serve me your malleable emotions –
A mock recompense for your lecherous lies,
Which you cunningly crafted from my good intentions
To feed to me like the swine of Circe
Don’t gaze at me with your synthetic eyes –
Two toxic obsidian beads,
Now redolent of Medusa’s stare,
Or the serpent descended on Eve;
They mimic beauty’s guise too well,
Containing only treachery
Don’t open your mechanical maw –
A cruel device that sweetly sings your vanities,
With all the pretense of a harpy’s pledge,
For your elegant wings have now been clipped,
And I must fly like Daedalus.
Nightshade, O how you taunt,
Seductive is your flower, dark purple,
Give yourself over to Her night.
Wine of Circe, Sweet the sleep you give,
A kiss of intoxication, Ease the
Passage of the soul.
Divale, Prima Ballerina of the Ballet,
Dance of La Belle Mort, Beautiful Woman,
Hers is the tango of death.
Lethal flower, make the voice rise high,
Fatal Soprano, yours is the power behind his throne,
Saccharine song of bells in your wake.
Belladonna, lustful and lusted for,
Your ambrosia is not of life,
But the kiss of death.
Passion’s ghost in 4th dimension
5am, candle light
electric drought for spirit found
intentions sleeps
while shadows drown
in jukebox, bar,
you’ve fallen down
to come so far
from Aphrodite, Hera, Circe
She gave you peace, but freedom’s curse
Seven points Chakras, Chi
Futile search for energy
To know beyond all spirit plane
indifference, passion, hurt & shame
secret dreads in secret beds
Bible’s Rod, and guilty deaths
this leads you to the interpass
of passion's ghost, in 4th dimension
Circles straight, forth and side
5am, candle light
miss a plane or miss a life
miss a chain, miss a wife
question thoughts, Ideas, beliefs
once upon a time in Greece
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