Long Euterpe Poems
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Of all the gods and goddesses
Found in Greek mythology,
My favorites are the nine Muses*,
Each means something special to me:
Calliope is epically bombastic;
Urania has stars in her eyes;
Erato's love poems are fantastic;
And Melpomene says of tragedy,
"It's not a play unless somebody dies.";
Polyhymnia's hymns're rafter ringing;
With Clio through history I prance;
Euterpe is kind 'bout my singing;
Terpsichore, not so much 'bout my dance.
But my main muse has always been Thalia,
We were so good together on stage,
And considering how long this gal's been around,
She's holding up well for her age.
Now that I'm no longer acting
I don't see her as much anymore,
Though I know anytime I get stuck for a rhyme,
She'll be there for me just as before.
She says I'm not much of a poet,
My verse is not epic and grand.
And she's right, it's not great, and I know it,
But at least it's not vapid and bland.
She likes to drop by to remind me
Of what she thinks were happier times.
When she wants me, she knows where to find me,
Here, scribbling away at my rhymes.
*The nine Muses: Calliope-epic poetry; Erato-love poetry; Polyhymnia-hymns; Euterpe-song; Thalia-comedy; Urania-astronomy; Melpomene-tragedy; Clio-history; Terpsichore-dance
Shall we guilty claim
a rose, as her beauties rain?
when suppressing her prickles
floods of her blood
bedew her roots
absorbed in grace.
Shall we banish beaming scents
of a rose rising in light?
when flourishing wonders
and streams of delight
flowing into human veins
avidly captured beyond words.
Shall we a beholder blame
for admiring in shining light a rose?
when many a reason
grant noble human hands
to hold an evergreen rose
rejoicing at divine creation.
Shall we a rose deny
a deep inner desire
to serve and give?
Bearer of Aphrodite and Venus Love
showy but unrevealing
transcends words what she conveys.
Shall I Euterpe invoke
my rose to inspire?
with sacred music
words above the clouds
penetrating fervent hearts
that never leave the heavens of poetry.
August 11th, 2018
a quatern
Shine on, Euterpe, cast your light.
We've not much time so please be brief.
"A simple answer brings relief
but careful thought will save you grief."
Focus, dear muse, for we must write,
shine on, Euterpe, cast your light.
"A hasty sonnet quickly flung
the next day finds that verse unsung.
Lay work aside when things feel wrong;
balance labor with time for song."
Shine on, Euterpe, cast your light,
I sense a notion taking flight?
"If while you toil, the words defer,
you hit a wall and stanzas blur
let music be your mind's chaffeur."
Shine on, Euterpe, cast your light.
**written 11/17/2010, my first pen at PS.
Euterpe (you ter' pee) is the muse of lyric poetry.
Like a bird
I want to croon daylong
wing off the cage to where I belong.
Like a reed
I want to sigh my wind
pipe my heart artfully to no end.
Like a song
I want to voice my inner harmony
as mind and soul merge in beauty.
Like ripples
I want to expand my feel
send waves shimmering with zeal.
Like Euterpe
I want to touch souls and inspire
my musing, my music are to admire.
Like a poet
I want to cast a spell of wit on my pen
and have the world of words as my den.
Like a dreamer
I want to walk on boundless paths
a free spirit lured by heights and depths.
April 1st, 2019
"I know not that of which you speak, though this I can relate;
A restlessness does haunt my soul, a hunger I must sate;
I know I slept with my child's eyes naivety was my bed;
Then I did wake with adult eyes an aching heart embedded"
"The last we knew she journeyed far to seek a worthy mate;
Her longing, calm, melodic voice unsettled Zeus' state;
He sent her forth to prove her voice could conquer one like he;
And seeded lust and longing that she sings so passionately.
So now it's clear why you could raise the fire from her sleep;
For Zeus gave this playful Sprite to Hestia from his seed;
Speak soft our sister's name to her and make a wish entire;
For she must grant her captor that which they do most desire"
And so Euterpe reappeared returned to sister's fold;
The Fire Sprite now danced with glee back in her master's hold;
Our Maid now settled back at home, devoted man by side;
And Hermes whined and sulked with pain his fun and games denied.
By Mount Helicon we met
Cupid struck; and in love’s net
We were caught, just you and me
Underneath the willow tree
Past the sunset through the night
Tasted moments of delight
Exchanged kisses, drank the wine
Precious nectar from the vine
Goblet sent by gods divine
We ascended to cloud nine
Till at last we fell asleep
Slowly drifted far and deep
In the land of dreams reclined
In each other’s arms entwined.
When I woke by light of dawn
All alone, found you were gone
Agitated called your name
But of course you never came
Panic grew; was I to blame?
My tears fell; I knew no shame
Shivers racked my body whole
Icy cold and shattered soul
Hugged the pillow where you lay
Robbed of thoughts and words to say
Outside wandered in the rain
Felt the ache of searing pain.
Didn’t know what had gone wrong
The emotions were too strong.
Now I pine each day for you
There is nothing else to do
Just in case you do return
Make my heart with pleasure burn...
You know where to find me
Here awaiting I will be
Under the willow tree...
---------------------------------------------------
Author: Paul Callus ~ 10th April 2014
Contest: Any Poem#20
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Placing: 3rd
Sonnet VII – Invoking The Muses
I call the daughters of Mnemosyne:
Sweet Erato, your kithara solo -
Dearest Euterpe, your aulos blow -
So my words won’t die in ignominy.
Inspire me with words of wit and charms,
That playfully dance like leaves on the streams.
Send them from above, like silver moonbeams,
To embrace my love with gossamer arms.
Like Icarus, I want to reach so high,
But I’m a simple man with simple rhymes
Who wants to enchant, inspire and amuse –
Hoping my loved one will longingly sigh,
And offer her heart to me for all time –
Which is why I’m invoking the Muses!
On this farm where creatures roam,
Their voices echo, close to home.
Each day they make a symphony of sounds,
Growls, hums, and tweets each morn go round
The crow’s caw of warnings bold,
A tale of strength in whispers told.
While the owl's hoots can be scary or low,
Wisdom is shared with those who know.
Whip-poor-will calls before first light again,
Twilight's whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will refrain
And the cricket sings their sweet chirp,
A serenade for the summer’s rain by Euterpe.
The dog barks with joyous glee,
A welcoming sound for you and me.
The cat purrs , content and still,
A gentle rhythm, calm and chill.
The horse neighs with grace and might,
A call to close communion day or night.
The cow moos softly, peaceful and kind,
A comforting sound as friends of mind.
The bird sings with vibrant cheer,
Melodies that draw us to listen and hear
The frog croaks in rhythmic beat,
A tune that makes us feel defeat
The bear growls, a warning sign,
A reminder of the wild within.
Yet each creature has its own voice,
A unique sound, a choice to rejoice.
So, listen as you close your eyes,
And hear the music that never dies.
In this world of animals’ sound
A beauty lies, waiting to be found
Inside my mailbox late last month; nine packs of seeds - a mystery!
I hadn't ordered anything, but curious was I to see
what might become of planting them. So grabbing trowel, hoe, and rake,
I set about to till some soil; a little garden plot to make.
To my delight, the plants grew fast. I'd saved the packs to see each name;
though Latin isn't my first tongue, I'd know each blossom as it came.
Each flower shape was like a quill, which I then took back to my room
and onto paper, words would spill from every seed's enchanted bloom.
The packet labeled "Clio Phlox" was my first taste of mystery:
the quill-shaped flower wrote and wrote a tome of Roman history!
"Euterpe Hyacinth" was next: this writing didn't take as long.
Within ten minutes, written down were lyrics of a lovely song.
Then "Terpsichore Ranunculus" - after it drew a five-line staff,
composed a lively dance tune for the song lyrics - it made me laugh!
Speaking of laughter, my next bloom; the "Thalia Agapanthus" wrote
a stand-up comic's funny script - a joke or two I'd love to quote.
"Melpomene Nasturtium" was the one I needed tissues for:
as tragic words came pouring out, my teardrops splashed upon the floor.
"Urania Hydrangea" wrote sweet poetry of sun and stars,
of comets, and alignment of the moon with Jupiter and Mars.
"Erato Rosa" wrote some rhymes of kisses under stars above,
some ballads of infatuation, some of unrequited love.
"Calliope Plumeria" wrote fast and long: one poem came -
a tragic tale of epic length, it put poor Beowulf to shame!
"Gardenia Polyhymnia" wrote Psalm-like hymns, I said "amen".
My eyes were reverently shut, but when I opened them again -
I realized it was a dream! Nine muses came in flower form.
I woke, and quickly wrote this down (believe me, this is not the norm!)
//Note: The Nine muses of ancient Greece were:
//Clio - History Euterpe - Lyric Poetry Terpsichore - Song/Dance
//Thalia - Comedy Melpomene - Tragedy Urania - Astronomy
//Erato - Love poetry Calliope - Epic poetry Polyhymnia - Sacred Hymns
//... the remaining Latin words are names of some of my favorite flowers
written 12 Aug 2020
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?