What do I wish for my wild heart?
In this trail is the finest art.
That is why I am almost there
With Lydian lyre and lore, or more
Cher sings her effectuated soul,
Discerning hearts excite the whole.
strongest cloven fiend
a face adored by Venus
beautiful bestial body
so loved by God in Genesis
take the crimson string
tied upon his velvety hide
red thread cuts the skin
ankles bound for the ride
hoisted on the mantle
an all engulfing spiral
upon pearlescent horns
blackish fur of desire
dark red heart
beating at his side
a full blooded kiss
could never be denied
Oh Echo why, did she beguile.
Queen Hera with loquacity.
Thou mountain nymph whose winsome smile
Did mask Zeus from complicity
With sylvan nymphs, his sole desire.
Those dalliances once revealed
Set jealous Hera's heart on fire.
Echo was blamed, her fate now sealed
To never speak, till others spoke.
And only then, those last words said.
Then bite her tongue, or she would choke.
This punishments inside her head.
A woodland hiding place she found
In solitude and loneliness.
One day she heard a youthful sound.
His voice her lips, it did caress.
Then " do not hide " Echo replied.
This paragon of many charms,
Bemused he said " please do no hide "
When Echo ran towards his arms,
Narcissus cast her to the ground,
Extolling death, to her embrace
As from her lips, his words resound.
She disappeared without a trace.
To wander evermore alone.
Those mountain caves were her domain.
Soon blessed death, turned bones to stone.
Her voice was all that did remain.
8 / 16 / 2025
Fire is hot.
Is it not?
Earth is too dirty
for one so purty.
In water, I'd sink,
I think...
and what about the air?
Is it really there?
She came in silence where the cedars sway,
A lunar hush beneath the argent trees.
The serpentine wind curled words she wouldn't say—
Just breaths and bow and coolness on the breeze.
Her sisters moved like stars in cascade flight,
The Hunters, free of longing, fierce and far.
Their eyes held depths no lover dared to write,
Each step a hymn beneath a myriad star.
A nebula of dreams unfurled inside,
As if I’d slept too long beneath a name.
She left a lilt, like wildness in the tide,
And something warm that had no need for flame.
No plea shall slither near and stay—
For she lives in me, the break from day.
her steps rhyme with mine
an echo between yearn and daunt
I ask her to keep pace, her shadows pine
voices behind me, slick and gaunt
—the phantoms want to keep her
the light ahead hazy, yet I demur
we’re so close—or too close
panic surged deliriously, in prose—
my eyes turn to my asphodel...
her lost shadow whispers: ‘farewell.’
ghostly gray petals—
a shadow crossing the grass
I stepped on a name
______________
A minimalist reflection on mourning and the erosion of identity, set in the asphodel fields of Greek myth, where unremarkable souls wander without memory…
It may be one of the most poetic ending of all
Icarus’ fall, that is
Stupid, prideful Icarus
The boy who flew too close to sun and expected not to burn
He learned that things can be beautiful
But intangible and fatal
Everyone talks about his death
How greedy he must be to have the opportunity to fly but give up on a wistful whim
But they forget his joy
For Icarus laughed as he fell,
teeth barred to the world as they say
Maybe everyone saw him fall
But in his mind he always flying
Even as the melted wax scorched his skin
His wings, poetically enough, prevented him from swimming to save his life
Even though, it is still the undeniable fact that Icarus Flew
I’d call him a lucky bastard
While you’d call him a fool
And there is a possibility that I am wrong
For another fact is that he is dead
But that matters not to him
For, you’re not in hell if you like the way it burns
“But, for my own part, it was Greek to me”
Julius Ceasar Act 1 scene 2 by Shakespeare
trying to study the language of ancient Attica
is like studying all the rules in mathematica
it is all Greek to me!
Phyllo
Sweet taste of baclava.
Drizzled honey.
Crunchy walnuts.
Hint of nutmeg.
Warmed to delicate crispness.
My mouth waters.
Eyes light with delight.
Nose twitches in anticipation.
But…….
Here I stand at midnight.
My kitchen a doughy mess.
Rolling and re-rolling phyllo dough
My trials and tribulations
on display with cracked
and torn doughy pieces
spread across the counter.
Exhausted, ready to give up.
The baklava seems miles away.
Time wasted proving I can’t
make phyllo dough.
I slouch in my chair.
Depression seeps into my soul.
Then, with a grin, I remember
my favorite Greek restaurant opens
in the morning.
As our teeth chatter
What we speak becomes all Greek ~
Winter at its peak
*
The truth is not always beautiful
or beautiful words from sugared lips, the truth.
The Trojan Horse delivered to the door, comes in disguise.
Sturdy in design of wood, but empty as a trickster
who plies her trade amongst unwary
and the inevitable susceptible naïveté akin to the Greeks’ quaint
love for the common old garden grasshopper of all colours —
a Greek tragedy in the making, rivalling that of Sophocles.
My truths are more complicated than the above:
an exposé wrapped in the variable
old clichés of devotion and eternal love of the other.
Keeping the secrets of others is a burden to be
suffered in silence until a beautiful
death do us part – then rendezvous in eternity.
Aeschylus: "Agamemnon"
A man in exile
Feeds himself on barren hope
Yields to fate in time
Aeschylus: "Prometheus Unbound"
Life's hard lesson
Wrong is shameful in the old
Time instructs us all
Sophocles: "Philoctetes"
Words not deeds rule men
Shaped to meet the moment's need
Waging war with fate
Sophocles: "Antigone"
Courage to choose right
And 'gainst harsh reality
Make no compromise
Aristophanes: "Lysistrata"
Poet's plea for peace
Fair breezes speed us onward
Making love not war
Euripides: "Alcestis"
Time will console you
Walk to the end of old age
The dead are nothing
A POEM FOR ANGITIA:
a paraphrased of Silius Italicus (c26-191 CE)
Angitia the Daughter of Eeta the Sun
And the Sea-nymph Persa
Was first to use herbs
In magic and wellness.
She is Mistress of Venoms.
She murmurs by the stream
To draw down the Moon.
By her command the river is held back.
The mountains and the forests become still.
Finding myself in tune
With steps in the wind blowing
My dance then to construct
And in love a face a glowing
Nymphs spellbinding in the heart
A maiden with the music they sing
I see those trees - the hues of desire
The God's look in awe dancing with wing
Blue - the beauteous blue skies
The muse with glee and opportunity
Blue skies, beauteous again a beauteous
Hue
The dance beneath the rays in unity
Courtship with the midnight waltz
Thy feet of each step pleasingly flowing
The dance is still to construct
And in love my face a glowing.
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