Long Mythologies Poems
Long Mythologies Poems. Below are the most popular long Mythologies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mythologies poems by poem length and keyword.
Hejama, seventh daughter of a seventh daughter of a Thessaly queen.
A natural proponent of black magic, sorcery, witchcraft and wizardry
Undlela ziimhlope, Aunt Vernafi suggested. An herb you will enjoy.
Hejama did not often take Aunt Vernafi’s advice, but this time she did.
Through necromancy she met a chief goddess, Hecate, Greek legend.
Crossroads between this world and the next. Keeper of Hade’s gates.
Not that one! Hecate would hiss as Hejama rummaged through forests
Seeking plants that could cure rheumatism, arthritis, and flu.
Along the way she regaled and delighted Hejama with mythologies.
Empusae are my children, Hecate revealed. They seduce travelers.
Furies, winged creatures who punished wrong doers, came too.
Fierce hounds traveled into the forest with them, braying loudly.
Hejama felt honored to have Hecate accompany her as her spirit guide.
I witnessed the abduction of Persephone, Hecate confided.
This led to a wonderful tale, as they collected herbs to help others.
Ghostly figures followed Hecate, trying for her attention.
She laughed about this, ignoring them in the day time.
I am a night deity, she told Hejama. I am yours during the day.
An honor only given to a seventh daughter of a seventh daughter.
Hibiscus rays of light herald
sun's stretch from night to twilight
in wakening blooms of ravishing red passion—
Oh! how I despise dawn's
blushing optimism and lust for life
for I am too young to cry but too old not to
featherlight the dandelion puff
as zephyrs blew seeds of our fantasies
free to fly the whims and sighs of our summer days
till breezes laid our pixie-dust down
wishes taking root in fast flourish—
pollen-plush dream-weeds grew in fields of gold
champagne flowed voluptuously through our veins
we laughed and pulsed with ambrosia-arousal
and with every nectarous nip
we lived as though we would celebrate love
f o r e v e r
a handful of heartbeats ago
we crystal-gazed into moon’s silver circle
believing in foretold fortunes of our future
our mythologies shaped in affectionate frescoes
sculpted softly into plum-dyed skies
constellations born from fireworks in our wooing eyes
—until the heart-twisting dawn-to-dark
when a cloud of angels cradled
sun-gilded harps
against their white-rose-hearts
teardrops in ecstasies of grief and joy
strummed celestial strings in virgin blue glissandos
lifting his lustrous soul away from me— lifting him
across the bridge to bliss —somewhere beyond me
and behind snowy veils of virtue
I am anemic
if not nothing now
adulterated
by loss of innocence
dwindling
in a dreamless star-broken state
unoccupied
but for the lurid loss that fills me—
and my black skies storm with shrieking tears!
They said you came from chimpanzees—
That deep in some African jungle
You leapt across species,
A silent hunter cloaked in blood.
But we have lived with chimpanzees
For tens of thousands of years.
We shared forests,
We shared meat,
We shared mythologies.
Why now?
They claim you're a natural disease—
But if that were true,
Why does nature not offer a cure?
Polio fell. Smallpox vanished.
Yet you—since 1981—
Have danced above the heads
Of even our greatest minds.
You are not nature’s design.
You are manmade silence.
You are a disease of profit,
A political invention,
A capitalist experiment gone global.
You were born in the shadows
Of white laboratories
Fueled by Cold War paranoia,
By the greed of corporations
And the prejudice of empires.
You made kings of pharmaceutical companies
And slaves of the sick.
You are not a virus.
You are a business model.
Billions have been spent.
Trillions earned.
You made markets out of mortality.
You made luxury yachts
From the suffering of mothers.
The cure?
Buried beneath patents,
Guarded by legal walls
And the blood of the voiceless.
If the world can send robots to Mars,
Edit genes,
Simulate universes—
Why can’t it cure a virus
With a mapped genome
And decades of study?
The answer is clear:
Because your existence
Feeds the engines of greed.
Because a cured patient
Is less profitable
Than a permanently treated one.
And you dare—
You dare to point your trembling finger at Africa,
The continent where life began,
And say: “There. That is where I was born.”
Lies.
The first known case?
The USA, 1969.
A teenager.
No jungle.
No monkey.
Just silence.
You demonized a continent
To distract from your laboratories.
You blamed the poor
To protect the rich.
But truth, like water, always finds a crack.
And now—
The world is watching.
The veil is lifting.
Young scientists are rising
Not for profit,
But for justice.
For healing.
For the truth.
Your days are numbered,
HIV.
Not because you are strong—
But because your creators
Can no longer contain the storm they sparked.
And when the truth stands,
No lie—
No corporation—
No empire—
Can withstand its weight.
We see you.
We name you.
We end you.
All night he climbs his spinal cord,
up and down he goes
a worker ant
gathering globules of memory.
The bony spine itself
offers handholds for his ghosts.
At each spinal notch
he enters the swim
of sub-osseous neural bundles.
Images are scooped up,
mixed into an alphabet soup
of alternative realities.
He climbs upward only to pause stymied
at the brains tightly packed folds
listens as an outsider
to the down-time humming
of a million closed circuitry heartbeats.
There is too much convoluted counting there,
too much to harvest in one night,
and so he travels back down the cord
to a low-clouded complexity
where shrouded stems burst open
their dark flowers
to engulf the embryonic mythologies
of sleeping giants.
In the morning
he hears himself thinking:
the thoughts are loud
they beat upon the top of his skull
like starving children
trying to escape.
We are here
and sometimes there
for each other.
How else could we support
this glad global network
of becoming?
Health is here
when abundant life is not over there,
just past some eastern sunrise horizon,
while I sulk and stain my past
missed opportunities
stalking toward, and balking against,
our appalling future
dodging unnecessary climate pathologies,
paranoid and dogmatic ethologies,
faithless loser psychologies,
frantic lose/lose unsurvival ecologies,
upside down logicalities,
out-chucked enculturing mythologies
settling for Left-Yang either/or toleration management
when we are designed for both/and
natural spiritualities.
We are rightmind here
and sometimes left disembodied rememory there
for each suffering other.
How else could we win/win support
this glad local/global health network
of being/becoming inter-relationships?
The tiny hole in my sweater
that is what I have become,
The empty space there where I am lost to you and you search and beseech me with queries
Unanswerable even to infinite space
I am the emptiness there as your tongue searches for the pain of a lost tooth, probing and delighted to find a tinge of pain each tuck
And akin to cohesion tension theory I glide up to you against the forces of nature, paradoxically the same nature that mesmerizes and energy flows between us like a mesmeric magnetized chain,
As we courageously compared mythologies, struggling against terrific tides of dissonance and discord
between language and origins of myth we wriggled like bugs on pins,
Here at this juncture in this time and place on this planet in this space I have seen his face
The hero with a thousand faces.
In a world once illuminated by the gold of bygone times,
A dark veil is now woven, a prison for lost souls,
Where critical spirit and free thought are but whispered memories,
Control of education becomes the key to inescapable conformity.
Values are distorted, and obedience becomes the supreme virtue,
While the media becomes a dance of shadows that distracts and manipulates,
Rewriting history erases the markers that tied us to the past,
Creating modern mythologies that serve only the ruling elites.
Under the watchful eye of technology, every movement is monitored,
Security becomes the pretext for invading our fragile intimacy,
Structures of punishment and reward are born from behaviors,
A social credit system that weighs our weary souls.
Economic dependence intertwines with the loss of autonomy,
Self-sustained agriculture and free trades become relics of the past,
The digital economy controls every transaction, every hope,
Personal property disappears under the guise of illusory common good.
Moral values are turned upside down, good and evil unravel,
Moral chaos and absolute relativism become the new gods of the world,
Social degradation is encouraged, primal instincts triumph,
While spirituality is lost in the echo of a forgotten time.
Power centralizes, cultural identities dissolve,
National sovereignty becomes a tale of forgotten past,
A single planetary government casts its shadows over freedom,
A quasi-religious ideology justifies the domination of the few.
Thus is born a planetary prison, where light slowly fades away,
Under a sky where stars barely flicker, souls wander,
In a world that has reversed all that was once sacred and full of life,
Searching for a way back to the gold of an era long past.
(“In the Beginning There Was the Word and the Word Was Good”, 2019, original pen and ink)
The All Good, The All Inclusive
Under the umbrella of relative truth
Is the absolute truth
That despite appearances
It’s all good.
Everything has its place
In a conscious universe
Where responsiveness
Is the prime directive.
Huh? I hear you ask.
Everything happens as it is
To perfectly match our needs.
All religions, philosophies, mythologies and lifestyles
Meeting the need of whoever finds it attractive.
This doesn’t mean it’s relatively good,
As clearly some styles and choices are bad,
It means it’s absolutely good
Simply because it’s absolutely inclusive.
Because the definition of the Universe
Of Life itself
Includes everything.
(9/2/25)
Let me set something straight -
Right here, right now!
Let me put India in the right perspective,
Let me banish some myths,
Some gross misconceptions,
And take you beyond elephants,
Sacred cows, snake charmers and yoga,
Beyond Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Taj Mahal,
To a civilization rooted for
over 5,000 years in the past
To a land rich - majestically rich -
In many cultures, customs and traditions,
In a bewildering variety of races,
Religions, languages and folk arts,
In a vibrant tradition of dance and music,
In religious festivals and traditional events,
In saints, sadhus, gurus and sages,
In gods, goddesses, munis and mahatmas,
In temples, palaces, shrines and monasteries;
I'll baby-steps you through a land
Of Vedas and Upanishads,
Of epic stories and incredible mythologies,
Of Ramayana, Mahabharata and Bhagavad Gita,
Through one of world's great spiritual sanctuaries,
Where religion is a way of life;
An overwhelming, complex land -
Its charm, its vitality and yes, its confusion,
Atonce alarming and enticing.
And that's the way India is:
Elusive, confusing, contradictory,
mysterious and exasperating!
Beyond easy description or analysis,
A phenomenal diversity of dress
and manners making one aware
of a different world -
A veritable fairyland!
No other country offers quite such
A spectacle of teeming masses that
continue to enrich the heritage of mankind,
Nowhere do the past and present
coexist in more colorful promiscuity -
An incomparable country,
Easy to love, hard to forget!
"There's only one India!" raved Mark Twain,
"A wonderland of fabulous wealth
and fabulous poverty, of splendor and rags ..."
"The cradle of the human race,
The birthplace of human speech,
The mother of history,
The grandmother of legend and
The great grandmother of tradition."
This, indeed, is my country
Where I was born -
An Indian at heart,
An American in spirit!
Namaste!
Khuda Hafiz, Jai Ramji Ki,
OM Radhe Shyam, Sat Sri Akal,
Jai Hind!!
~Love letters to the sub continent
contest by cyndi MacMillan
When younger, less afraid of dying.
Even now, less afraid of dying
than fearful I am already too dead for fully functional
resuscitation
Reviving reconnecting
inter-religious panentheism
Maybe it’s just another monotheistic Sunday 9 PM,
last dregs of responsible weekend parenting,
trying to remember, then forget,
why I thought parenting would be good for my spiritual life,
unlike eremitic vows
or even celibacy.
No, not for me
such traditional eco-mythologies,
our reconnecting regeneration
will become egomind/eco-body therapists
of polycultural healthy
re-ligious cooperativity!
What an exhausting anthrosupremacist ideation!
swollen with polyvagal win/lose mediocrity,
sad happiness of merry pathogens,
ungreeting alien unmet teenagers,
shape-shifting into truly terrifying young adults,
halfway between my eternally wise ZenZero
full-peak/empty-valley bicameral
budding wokeness
and neuro-sexsensory wildness,
their unreformed perfect creepiness
stretching my boundaries of reasonable
love-life expectations.
I’m far less afraid of dying
than I fear indigenous EarthTribes fading away
without me
attending to over-spiritualized worship services
to reconnect us each
and preverbal panentheistic all
with how utterly exhausting we are
untogether communicating
in siloed sanctuaries of LeftBrain silence
sincerity
religioning EarthTribe's win/win potential integrity.
Another Sunday 9 PM
re-membering to not forget
my spirited-natural
indigenous love
wise panentheistic life
if only drifting RightBrain prominent
feelings of ego-mindhealth
and safe eco-bodywealth
until a win/lose traumatic
disturbing
BusinessAsUsual 6 AM
alone
older
still surrounded by unsafe
homophobic
straight monotheistic
anthrosupremacist hypocrisy
To think that a secularized human nature
could ever be as beautiful
as lilies in the field
or as wise
as an indigenous
panentheistically nurturing
LeftCrown dominant
RightRoot recessive
MotherTree.