Long Apollo Poems
Long Apollo Poems. Below are the most popular long Apollo by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Apollo poems by poem length and keyword.
Athena takes me
sometimes by both hands
and we go levitating
through strange Dreamlands
where Apollo sleeps
in his dark forgetting
and Passion seems
like a wise bloodletting
and all I remember
,upon awaking,
is: to Love sometimes
is like forsaking
one’s Being—to drift
far beyond any thought,
forsaking the here
for the There and the Not.
*
O, finally to Burn,
gravity beyond escaping!
To plummet is Bliss
when the blisters breaking
rain down red scabs
on the earth’s mudpuddle ...
Feathers and wax
and the watchers huddle ...
*
Flocculent sheep,
O, and innocent lambs!,
I will rock me to sleep
on the waves’ iambs.
*
To Sleep, that is Bliss
in Love’s recursive Dream,
for the Night has Wings
pallid as moonbeams—
they will flit me to Life;
like a huge-eyed Phoenix
fluttering off
to quarry the Sphinx.
*
Riddlemethis,
riddlemethat,
Rynosseross,
throw out the Welcome Mat.
Quixotic, I seek Love
amid the tarnished
rusted-out steel
when to live is varnish.
To Dream—that’s the thing!
Aye, that Genie I’ll rub,
soak by the candle,
aflame in the tub.
*
Riddlemethis,
riddlemethat,
Rynosseross,
throw out the Welcome Mat.
Somewhither, somewhither
aglitter and strange,
we must moult off all knowledge
or perish caged.
*
I am reconciled to Life
somewhere beyond thought—
I’ll Live in the There,
I’ll Dream of the Naught.
Methinks it no journey;
to tarry’s a waste,
so fatten the oxen;
make a nice baste.
I’m coming, Fool Tom,
we have Somewhere to Go,
though we injure noone,
ourselves wildaglow.
Sunsphere
Sunsphere, purple to orange,
yellow in the middle,
setting at the rear.
Behind the wheel, gripping the steel,
Apollo, anxious, scans for falling flowers
along the roadside.
My petal scent
permeates the Lumina —
maroon in colour,
interior tone matching.
It is his ride,
our style.
I will never leave, even if we wreck
at breakneck speed.
I’ve got the need;
he’s got the deed.
My own Jimmy Dean —
flashing red and green,
amber
and lean,
colours of the scene,
of the chase.
The urban heart paces
its own race to the climax,
where it might end,
where it might dissolve away
in a state of perfect pink bliss.
The body’s calibrated systems all lined up
for twenty seconds of elation.
I tune the station.
He smiles at the recognition.
This song carried us along —
all the pit stops, all the speed bumps.
It first played eons past:
sweet sixteen, neon skies blast
green wonder overhead.
He was not there; we had not met.
A song that touched the loneliness inside.
I realized I was not like everyone else;
I excommunicated myself.
And when I found him, I denied this song existed.
It reminded me of that time before my heart enlisted
in the endless dream.
I pretended I had never experienced sadness.
I was in pure spirit —
not doctored by my own health
or chemistry.
I was strong,
untouched by the dirty empires.
But it was false.
I had already fallen in the mud.
Music was the rope
holding me close.
No one offered their arms,
no one offered their charms
to save me from dismay.
I clung to whole notes
and registers —
treble and bass.
I only had theory to seal my edges.
I was not restrained, not in feeling
nor in the larynx.
I was fixated on expression,
the lexicon of my wounded soul.
He smiles at the remembrance
as the song plays again —
not because the lyrics are happy
or because it calls back pleasant polaroids.
We are still here,
cohabiting the vessel of our escapade,
together,
rolling through the hills of sonic recollection.
And here, in the passenger seat of an old Chevy,
I can finally name my sorrow
I can let the tears rise
if they wanted to break the levy of my eyes —
forest-coloured iris —
if I had reason to cry
Tall tale
Inhale
Exhale
Fire-sale
Entrails
Stop watch clock
Detail
Retail
Question
Charity
Joke
Shop
Cunning Plot
Accusations
Conertation
Deviation
Meditation
Presentation
Flip Flop
Resonate
Elevate
Procrastinate
Incarcerate
Deviate
Box off
Morphine
Dopamine
Vaccine
Injection
Firework
Dynamite
Pill
Postage Stamp
Taxes
Cheque
Cash
Paper
Bitcoin
Bill
Gold
Diamond
Jewel
How much have you got
Can you afford to loose
Can you make the roundabout
spinning stop
Drain the power from the main frame
Just how many times can the handmaid
escape
Before eventually getting caught
Crushing fresh red footprint track into
yellow snow upon a blue grass
landscape portrait
What's exactly lurking underneath the
bonnet hood
And have we sufficient rocket fuel left in
the tank
In order to survive re-entry in 1 piece
Apollo
9 - Dash . Dot - 11
OVER
Foundation.
With the considerable rise of AI software on all social media and business platforms, will humanity lose its creative edge?
Will you be tempted to do so?
Title:
Be You
(A lone voice whispers)
Be You
Forgo assimilation
And try to avoid being spellbound and tied into the new B System
Dream and aspire before you're retired
With all your soul's, inner resistance
Don't be bound to mundane hearts, no longer open to being plowed, with ravenous curious fingers
Hearts enslaved into a dark broken Labyrinth of unspoken, and untold things
Which could linger
From sad souls who've cried, as their creativity withered and died
Absorbed by the cleverly assimilated imagery and well created lies
To be one of the many lonely wanderers
Tumbling blind through inspirations now barren playgrounds
As the new, AI Hive Minds, long reach fires up to reteach
Newly breached, unconnected human firewalls
While wild valley blackbirds and starling flocks
Scream and call out in unison, at the lack of the rising poetry
Music or literature, filled with human energy
As spiritual temperatures worldwide, fall
Putting ingenuity into jeopardy
Screeching about the impending icy cold bath of human separation
As they fly as huge wailing flocks, into the Summer Equinox
With the frosty breath, of AI Death of the Soul
Lingering around like black mold
With bony fingers
Rattling without a sound
Awaiting its resurrection
As daylight recedes and people seem to lose hope
But on that Devil's Island for some of the Condemned
The one called Earth
The Exalted Ones
Maybe like you
Unassimilated and still free
Can lift up the trapped
Those poor souls caught up in The Hive Mind
Slowly been drained of personality and self identity
Lost in the humankind labyrinth of the unspoken and untold
Who needs releasing to help rebuild the new pillars of creativity upon Earth
With their eventual rebirth
This my friend with the bright eyes unseen
Has always been a worthy oath to follow
For you've always been free to share your gift of uplifting
Energetic, raw, and visual
Literature
Music or poetry
Maybe bestowed
From The Sacred Temples of Apollo
What's says you?
Are you going to strive to stay the real you?
(C) Copyright John Duffy
The Light Of Diana
The darkness of the midnight sky
A blessing of the gracious gods of Olympus
The most holy Diana travels across the sky in a glittering chariot
The waning crescent moon, a slight sliver of Diana’s shield, shows her protecting bow
Keeping the innocent safe for the moment when Venus can bless their being
She keeps safe the hearts of women who do not wish to be loved
Her light keeps the spirited god Cupid at bay until the desire for love proves itself
As she travels lovers look up making wishes to her and they see her being
She leaves sparking jewels in her wake for those wishes are to be granted
Red and blue and white they twinkle in the blackness of nothingness
However, I, a mere mortal is the most grateful to the night’s dim light
It is by Diana’s light that I look at your flawless beauty
Watch you as you sleep with dreams that make you smile as no person can
She is the one who keeps your tears away while allowing mine to flow
When Diana travels far beyond the distant horizon and Apollo rises in the east
For a pair of fortnight I shall fade back into the world where you and I would never meet
I will fade back and wait until Diana once again shows her light
Until I can again see your beauty in her silvery light and I shall feel a love which cannot be returned
Such is the blessing and the curse of Diana and her magical light
A poem based on the Greek pantheon:
Zeus The Philanderer
Zeus the philanderer, lust divine,
Maidens fair he did entwine,
By guileful means he won their trust,
Bastard offspring born from his lust.
With swan's guise, Leda he charmed,
Castor and Pollux strong, were formed,
Danae he showered with golden rain,
Perseus, hero born, from their love train.
Antiope, queen of Thebes, he pursued,
Bull's disguise, his love he imbued,
Twins were born, Amphion and Zethus,
Walls of Thebes, they built with thrust.
Callisto, seduced by guile, Became a bear, Hera caught his wile,
Arcas, son born, of Zeus' seed,
Placed in sky's heed, forever freed.
Europa, lovely Phoenician maid,
Bull's guise, Zeus came to aid,
Minos, Sarpedon, Rhadamanthus born,
Great kings, from union, were sworn.
Io, maiden, mortal born,
Heifer hide, Zeus did adorn,
Epaphus, son born, from their bliss,
Line of kings, from his loins, reminisce.
Aegina, eagle guise he did take,
Aeacus, son born, island did make,
Myrmidons raised, his loyal band,
Achilles, born, by Zeus' command.
Leto, mother of Apollo and Artemis,
Zeus' seed, conceived the twins of bliss,
Music, hunting, prophecy, and art exchanged,
The world forever changed, from their range.
Semele, Zeus' cousin he beguiled,
Lightning and thunder, love compiled,
Dionysus, son born from thigh's embrace,
God of wine and ecstasy, in his grace.
Alcmene, Amphitryon's faithful bride,
Zeus in his guise, her bed he did stride,
Heracles born, of strength untold,
Twelve labors wrought, his legend bold.
Many children born of his desire,
Maidens caught in his fire,
Zeus' ways were divine, not in vain,
Each child born had a purpose to maintain.
~kcm
15 Apr 2023
I'm perplexed! My breath chocks as Euterpe, Calliope,
Erato, Apollo, and modest Muses leading me
Through the refreshingly flooding streams of Antiope
To heavens, where I am, like an eagle, endlessly free
I can breathe here a frankincense-filled aromatic air.
In whose flow my atria-ventricular blocks open
Pranayama, whose parikrama in performance is rare
It overwhelms, as though the dam of feelings is broken.
When talons cannot grab prey, when feathers stick to the chest,
When, like an eagle, I meet the challenge of 'do' or 'die'
I go to the hills. I struggle the worst and pass my test.
In each effort, as though a mother in labour, I sigh.
In each poetic breath, I see the Brahman at the helm.
Does Brahman see my poems as I wish him to see them?
Mythical gods lived on Mount Olympus,
but the one true God lives on Mount Zion.
They were erratic and capricious.
The true God is constant and unchanging.
Zeus was the chief among the other gods,
But the true God is the only God.
The gods were said to be immortal,
Yet only the true God is immortal.
Poseidon, Dionysus, Hephaestus,
Aphrodite, Apollo, Artemis
were all gods that had a beginning
But the true God has no beginning.
Among the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
Perfect unity and harmony reigns,
But the mythical gods of Olympus,
were always fighting among themselves.
Mythical gods were figments of man’s mind,
The true God created man with a mind.
He is the God who created all things.
God Omnipotent, Omnipresent, Omniscient.
If within your soul, you feel a vacuum
which none of your possessions have filled
Seek out the true God who created you
and made the space that only he can fill.
In my many years I have found the ideal travelling companion. An escort who can be quiet and reserved yet sometimes,when required, strong and bold. Most times pleasantly agreeable. Her age it does not matter and in some cases the older the better. My companion can be sweet and sugary and maybe at times a little tart. Yet every now and then,contemporary with plenty of drive and a certain nuance of audacity. Red or white it makes no difference to me. Tis the grape that has become my friend, my travel guide to the world. She (and she must always be a she) has seduced me to sip my way through life. To enjoy its many pleasures and endure its many hardships. A cool sweet Chardonnay has been my Orient Express to intrigue, a potent port my African Queen to adventure and, a delicate red-fruit pinot noir my Apollo to the moon. I toast to you my friends and to my friend "The Grape".
2015.03.09@13:13:13
As the V-Line Coach approached the Apollo Bay,
Along the sand line, what did I find?
The splashing waves rushed in to reach the beach.
The scent of the trees and plants,
Triggered some ideas in my brain.
I planned to throw your book into the sea,
Let the salty water washed all your printed words.
Hopefully, it also cleaned your soul and sins,
Changed you into a better person,
Who would have some considerations,
And be kind and nice to others,
Treat others as you would like to be treated.
I learned an important lesson today.
On 2024.08.12@12:44pm, BB wrote
>> "you do and feel what you like"
Yes, because doing what others like
Always results in disappointment.
I do what I believe in.
>
Well. I did what I felt like
And it also resulted in disappointment.