Long Hera Poems
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Early Autumn.
Lazy Sunday morning.
Coffee cooling.
Reading poetry, writing pooretry.
Viewing artworks, editing photographs.
Eggs and crumbcake, long since
consumed.
Forgot by mind, by mouth
though not by belly.
Hawks foreground the
white puffery in the North sky,
circling.
Perhaps challenged by a corvid.
Something black seems to dislike its circling.
It’s presence.
It’s self.
The birch showers in newly not-green and softly serrated
leafery.
Dropping into cappuccino.
Into coffee.
Onto keyboard and camera.
Into hair.
Upon the unused chair.
There, beside us.
A carpet to inspire the sole
of the barefeet we eat in.
We ate in.
The rustle seems to murmur something
about the season.
The ages.
The world.
The hawks cry out.
Continually.
Distant.
They could be anywhere.
They are just there far over there
but
could be anywhere.
To place the call of a hawk is no
small thing.
To resolve them in the bluevast
no easier, true.
The leaves, seem to tire of the sky
and fall,
seemingly mostly,
on her.
She leaves them where they be.
A forest come home to its
Hera.
Stars, like glowworms, surround the gibbous moon
Like cold mood of a play, blinks blue lit sky
Dark clouds, like ghostly shadow shows, puff up
Moon moves toward dusky clouds that puff up
A night heron flies across the full moon
Like Hera in black-blue gown, shines the sky
Angels enter, exit in scenic sky
Smokes, as though from Elysium, puff up
Skirting the boots of the silvery moon
Soul is bliss-filled by the charms that puff up
Heart is enchanted by the blue-whale sky
Mind muses on marvelous marble moon
23 March 2022
The Night Sky Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anna Marie Kaianah
Men have their habits and women their traits
Which help determine the course of their fates.
Even the gods do adhere to these rules
And, just like mortals, act often like fools.
Setting the stage, we will see we’ve been led
To Morty and Ceil, over 40 years wed;
While up on Olympus, both Hera and Zeus
Are seeing what mischief a zetz can produce.
If zetz is a word which you’ve not heard before,
It’s Yiddish and so it has meanings galore.
Consider a zetz like a jab or a poke
In a physical way or in words someone spoke.
Let’s eavesdrop on Morty and lovely wife Ceil
And see how a little zetz alters their meal…
(this is the narrator's introduction to a play i wrote - entirely in rhyme - which was part of the strawberry one-act festival in new york city, performed on march 2, 2013. the link below will take you to the entire 16 minute play on youtube)
http://youtu.be/HFkw_ubUeR4
ODE TO YOU
To the success of my endeavors might Love
not illude me. Then might my toils be not
in vain. That even the holiest of me turmoil
is seen as wicked and such meddling
unwanted
.Ultimately from fides or fidare might
a faith ensue that trust then is established.
Only a promise that I may then refer to her
as mine.
Then all that tempest her shall be seen as
outsiders with intent to crumble our trust.,
or distort our togetherness.
The formal promise.
----------------------------------------------------
Staccato
Hera (goddess of marriage)
, Hymenaios (god of weddings)
, and Aphrodite (goddess of love)
shifting a relationship from something casual
to a long term relationship.
“On the Back of Atlas”
On the back of Atlas my whole world sat
as if seated upon the golden thoughts
of a fast loose dominant god all seeing
the Sky, eyes of cobalt blue
marbled with stone cold clouds.
the Heart -
the Ark of the Covenant
well-hidden,
keeps its fresh green secrets;
On the back of Atlas my whole world sat
as if seated upon the golden thoughts
of a fast loose dominant god all seeing
the Sky, eyes of cobalt blue
marbled with stone cold clouds.
“Orion walked on water too”,
echoes in the mind of the Tenth Muse,
what matters little
mostly survived in fragmentry form,
is now lost;
On the back of Atlas my whole world sat
as if seated upon the golden thoughts
of a fast loose dominant god all seeing
the Sky, eyes of cobalt blue
marbled with stone cold clouds
took me over,
spoke It’s lot,
“as above,
it must be below” -
the Sky, eyes of cobalt blue
marbled with stone cold clouds,
spoke to what is seated inside
for all it was worth,
“the Heart -
the Ark of the Covenant
well-hidden,
keeps its secrets -
there lies Truth
where Truth lies sleeping”
Candide Diderot. ‘25
“As Dawn rose up in her golden robe from Ocean's tides,
bringing light to immortal gods and mortal men,
Thetis sped Hephaestus' gifts to the ships.”
The Iliad/Homer (Book 19)
'Hear me, all you gods and all goddesses too,
as I proclaim what's brooding deep inside me.
Today the goddess of birth pangs and labor
will bring to light a human child, a man-child
born of the stock of men who spring from my blood,
one who will lord it over all who dwell around him.'
But teeming with treachery noble Hera set her trap,
'You will prove a liar . . .
when the time arrives to crown your words with action.
Come now, my Olympian, swear your inviolate oath
that he shall lord it over all who dwell around him—
that child who drops between a woman's knees today,
born of the stock of men who spring from Zeus's blood.'
The Iliad/Homer (Book 19)
Asclepius is staring at the beam of a balance,
heart on pan and gold bars opposite
the heart is pastel gray the gold is glittering
the heart not beating the gold glaring blinding the eyes
he ponders which one to keep in order to satisfy his desire
as well as to honor the Olympians: just keep the heart to satiate
Hades by adding one more straying soul to populate the netherworld
and Hera to bring one new life to make the earth younger and more vigorous
but, since he is a medicine god who’s priority is to lessen pain,
comfort grieving hearts and cures diseases, he decides to repair
the heart, his delicate handiwork and magic-touch resuscitate
the heart and make it beat again. Each time the heart beats,
it gets heavier and thereby the beam tilts to side, the gold bars slide
to the heavier side and fall from the pan.
In a moment of bewilderment, Asclepius grabs the gold bars dropping
the resuscitated heart that is, now, beating and pumping air, and in that moment, Alas! a bolt out of the blue struck him and the gold bars in his hand turn to dust.
Homer in his prime knew what was divine he sets out to woo the earth but his ambition was crumbed in the dirt, the Trojan War is an epic of past, love, power, hate, marriage, and crime; the Greeks and the city of Troy and the ten years war that took many lives and causes numerous painful sacrifices.
The marriage of Peleus’ and Thetis’ brought the whole nation together Zeus in his fantasy was merry and happy but the goddess of strife was denied entry to the marriage feast and so she made a dangerous decree, she throw her gift among the guests; and everyone scramble to find the second best, Aphrodite, Athena, and Hera began to fight for it but the spoon quickly ran away with the dish.
Zeus in all his pride could not decide who to get the goddess of strife gift and Paris, the prince of Troy, was asked to make the decision but Paris was not the smartest fellow and he left everything in a big hollow and so Hera the queen bribed him for a thin limb.
Hera promised him political power and a sordid throne for tomorrow; but Athena in a subtle tone promise, wisdom in mind and battle in pride but that could persuade Paris. Aphrodite knew his heart from the start and promised him the beautiful Helen of Sparta. But he quickly chose Aphrodite and wrap up the selection plight, woman was his weakness and he went all the way for her.
Charming Helen was married to Menelaus, the mean king of Sparta so, Paris journeyed to Sparta and kidnapped Helen from her home and brought her back to Troy with him and Helen could not resist his touch and she fell in love with Paris when she felt his heart and from there on the Trojan War began. It started with a gift and ended with a gift.
The Greeks surround the city of troy and hid in the Trojan horse. A few of them went back to sea and pretend as if they were gone but Paris and his men hang out on the lawn, and what they thought was a precious gift was an ambush set outside lawn. No sword was drawn, no blood was spilt but the Greeks defeated troy with a massive fire ball when they took the Trojan horse inside, “burn! Troy burn” the Greeks shouted.
And so Homer, the greatest storyteller of all gave an account of how the mighty Trojan fall on his way back from the Trojan War in the epic Iliad. You are a long way from home.
Carolyn's imagination could soar like no one I have ever read, bringing the reader along on a magical journey! I firmly conclude, she sits, even now, upon her White Stallion, visiting all the wonders she imagined, bestowing us all with her love, as she always signed off her comments with.
****
** **
** **
** **
Furious with Zeus, a vengeful Hera searched the world
Until she discovered the most amazing young girl
~~A Native American with hair dark as the night
Atop a white steed she traversed mountains snowy white~~
“Let there be stardust,” the Goddess proclaimed with force
And the woman was stunned, soaring on a flying horse
“Let there be rain,” Hera chose to give her power
The girl rode above clouds, below her rain did shower
Forever Rain on Stardust would travel through the sky
With the powers of a Goddess as she rode on high
To shower blessings of rain on villages so dry
Rain sees the past and future, though she does not know why
The outcome surely not as Hera had intended
Zeus became enamored of Rain’s presence so splendid
He kissed the sky beneath her with bright rainbow arches
Today you still see them wherever Stardust marches
A Goddess rides now, but sweet Rain was once just human
And she remains bewildered by her own acumen
Olympian rulers outdone by their creation
For Rain and Stardust yet win human acclamation
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Carolyn's poem submitted by James Marshall Goff
Form:
*Image of the enthroned Roman goddess Ceres provided by Pixabay.
Ceres, Goddess of Harvest: The Pact
Birthright rules they are Jupiter's sisters,
Hera, Vesta, Ceres, whose names glisters.
Ceres, the goddess of crop gathering,
whom the gods treat the best, no blathering.
When Ceres was sad, the harvest did die,
and the people did ask all the gods why?
Pretty Proserpine, Ceres daughter,
picking berries, her uncle did spotter.
The uncle was Pluto, and none other,
whose desires chokes empty minds to smother.
Pluto was the god of the underworld,
who had kidnapped her to his netherworld.
Proserpine met needs, kept in a dream,
ageless her stay be Pluto's fated scheme.
Jupiter sought out Mercury for aid,
a messenger god and smart son, think trade?
Proserpine marries, in turn, he must,
let her return for six months, would be just.
Pluto, Ceres, and Jupiter agreed,
six months growth, six months none, was then decreed.
2021 April 23
HMS - 10 syllables per line & RZ - exact rhymes checked
This poem belongs to all the children who will never know the joy
of running on a beach and getting sand between their toes. Told
from the perspective of a 12-year-old boy, wheelchair-bound.
I know a place where the stars kiss the sea;
and fish sing all night in cool harmony.
Where golden crystals, sparkling in the sand
are polished each night by a wizard's hand.
Added to that are bright amethyst gems
from the cache of sunset wandering in.
A magical place where one can pretend
those broken, like me, are able to mend.
I found I could run at last--on fire!
So fast a comet might even admire.
I tumbled and cartwheeled all over sand;
then shook a magician's vanishing hand.
I whirled with delight, so eager to go
to all those places intriguing me so
defying gravity, I jumped so high,
I touched the edge of the deep purple sky.
Catching a ride from a planet to star
I could glimpse them all, both near and far.
No stopping me now, I joyfully thought.
A passing moonbeam next I caught,
that took me farther, a more distant place,
where stars shake hands and then embrace
I spoke with Zeus as his wife, Hera, smiled;
even spoke with Ares, their wayward child.
They said I must heed Earth's beckoning call;
because i'm not one of them, after all.
Suddenly captured by a downward draft,
starting to tumble, I could hear Zeus laugh.
As I tumbled down, the breeze gently placed
me in my wheelchair--my usual space.
But now that I know special secrets of
a magical land so far above.
I'll travel where my arms can at last lift
a flower I find on a sandy drift.
Where I can jump and dance and run--
and all things are possible under the sun.