Ode to Erato
“Hear, hear!” What’s this poppycock all about?
“Get rid of St. Valentine’s Day… you say — I say naught!”
Brave Britannia, are we losing our faculties?
I’d give my life for God, king, and country,
but to give up St. Valentine’s Day? “Preposterous!”
A night with Erato is an experience like no other.
Painfully erotic, overwhelming, and barbaric,
or tenderly smothering, so Oedipal complex,
as passion guides your heart’s desire in words.
'Tis to die satisfied, knowing the utmost pleasure.
So, to this chicanery, I say, let us sing
out in an overture, from soprano high to basso low,
with mid-range baritone in between,
to fragile Eros’s joy in avoiding Chronos’s eye,
and follow Erato and not be dismayed by Thanatos,
but let the sexes engage intimately
in the propagation of the species.
Erato
Each of the nine Muses
Endeavor to inspire.
Erato, lyre in hand,
Engages with men's minds,
Elegantly with words ...
Each phoneme, each pattern
Encourages lyrics.
At the Feet of the Goddess
by Michael R. Burch
“What will you conceive in me?”—
I asked her. But she
only smiled.
“Naked, I bore your child
when the wolf wind howled,
when the cold moon scowled . . .
naked, and gladly.”
“What will become of me?”—
I asked her, as she
absently stroked my hand.
Centuries later, I understand:
she whispered—“I Am.”
Published by Romantics Quarterly (the first poem in the first issue), Penny Dreadful, Unlikely Stories, Underground Poets, Poetically Speaking, Poetry Life & Times, Little Brown Poetry. Keywords/Tags: Muse, Goddess, Erato, Beloved, poetic, lyric, divinity, Orpheus, Sappho, poems, Poetess, poets, poetry, inspiration, God
Erato, muse of love poetry
Inspires all of us to tell our tale,
Of when that magic spark set us free,
And the loneliness began to fail.
Some poets write of love at first sight,
Some of a smoldering love that grew.
When both souls know the feeling is right
A kiss on the lips with passion anew.
The love of my life was first my friend,
Then one day everything changed instantly.
I looked in his eyes, and then he grinned.
We knew our love would change drastically.
I still feel the love that we once shared.
Although he died young, I can still recall,
There were others for whom I cared,
But his was the love most treasured of all.
Erato left me
Alone—why did she go—where?
Too many poets
a multiverse on my mind
I touch the leaves of spring
summer responds by jealousy
Whenever a Melancholy Moon,
Radiantly brimful, looms low,
And gilds the tops of the trees,
The hills, the flowing streams,
and languorously reclining lakes,
My Muse appears to me
from nowhere like a dream,
Like a flash of inspiration
to a muddled mind.
She glides towards me like
an elusive wreath of smoke
And gathers me in her
delicate arms like a silken robe,
Hovering around me
like the perfume of roses.
She appears as an inspiring
source of fantasy and vision,
Like the magnificent Northern lights
displaying kaleidoscopic draperies
in the polar nights,
Like the spectacular rainbow burst
after an intense shower,
Like a shooting star,
Like a blessed apparition.
I take her gently, gratefully,
in an ethereal embrace,
As you would take
honey from a beehive!
(*The Muse of lyric and love poetry-
one of nine Greek goddesses)
"It's all about the Moon" contest by SKAT A
Why silence, Erato, old friend,
Is there a thought you wish to transcend
You call me a poet, how can that be
For my quill be a twig and parchment a tree
I paint of morning, my hopes lie ahead
My words unsure, I merely sense my tread
Yet, Erato, you say rhyme will give fire
Rendering visions with the brush of desire
May canvas be my yearn, verse my plea
That passions of life e'er be ardent in me
As I slumber
Deep in desirable dreams
She comes
With lyre in hand
Her song is purest poetry
Gifted by Apollo
And drawn by Zeus’ hand
O’ sweet melody
She serenades my soul
Whispering verses
Still longing to be made manifest
Her fragrance compels me
To dream her beauty
And inspires greatness
In corners of minds
Only muses can occupy
Daintily she places myrtle
Around my bed
And rouses me to dance
In her glorious creation
O’ sweet Erato
Derived from "Eros" the Greek muse
Bring me the words to form and infuse
Your name is has been known as lovely
Shine on me privately
Love of life
Bring onto me nightlife
Of erotic pleasure
And poetry treasures
From your Greek Gods
And passionate lords
I write the words
That fly like the birds
As a pair
Lovers untangled the lustful flare
And Zeus your statue faces me
God of daylight
Pointing to the sea
Writing lyrics that sigh and jive
Helping with words I can contrive
Erato you wear a wreath of roses
White and myrtle
Playing music of love so
Fertile
Of all the flowers
i met on the way
only your dainty bossom
showed me the court of day,
And that accounts
for the harp today i blew
and of all smiles there are
only yours i found was true.
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