Long Poseidon Poems
Long Poseidon Poems. Below are the most popular long Poseidon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Poseidon poems by poem length and keyword.
While I gaze at nightfall through chilled droplets
my musings try to redesign past reveries:
oh those exotic, summer escapades now buried
in gravestones of ice- powdered vapor…
and now the blistering winds return
when a frigid son of Poseidon veils
eve's tableau with ghastly pines
like numb statues macabre and furrowed,
hiding the radiance of moonlight.
Looks drab, not interesting, yet come early morn,
the sprigs beckon a tune elegantly droning
on lucent flakes to nibble the skyline red…
a mirror of stars circling in a gentle, gentle prance,
this, only in the magic of a white winter spell.
9/24/2016
Interesting Contest for john lawless
(tongue-in-cheek humor)
I understand there is a lawsuit, doc # 666, Neptune vs. Jersey. Apparently, windmills being put in the ocean off the Jersey coast was all done without consultation and approval by the Sea Council – who clam (ocean slang for claim) guardians of the sea coast, Loan Sharks, were paid by politicians to keep usually open mouths shut, and therefore the project went forward without public digest (a form of shoreline debate). Salacia, Poseidon, Neptune, and other overlords have their fins in a tizzy, equally upset about gender changing surgery being suggested to school fish pupils by gender fluid teachers also causing quite an uproar within the shallows and depths – stay tuned to the Splashy, your Prime Time Ocean News Network. This is written tongue-in-cheek, and any resemblance to real people or places is accidental and unintended. No truth in any of this to my knowledge.
Everything was fine
My bed sheets felt cool and divine
And my mind wandered
The room began to roll
Until the walls fell away
I wasn't startled
Until I heard the clash of thunder
And lightning flashed before my eyes
My bed was a lonely vessel
In a raging sea
I held on tight
Riding the waves
And I swore I saw Poseidon
Selling lobster fixin's to dancing hermit crabs
But I just held on tight
Feeling bile rise up my throat
Yet I never threw up
And the angry clouds calmed down
After being tickled by a giant feather
Wielded by mice wearing sunglasses
Everything seemed to slow
The wind caressed my face
And my bed drifted on the ocean surface
But if I were to close my eyes
I would fall, fall, fall
Into the depths of darkness
The depths of my mind
But for once I just wanted to drift
On the lonely sea
Surrounded by mobster whales
Shooting off insults at my dirty clothes
But eventually they were left behind
And the bed was trapped at a beach
That beach was my life
I felt the grains of sand between my toes
But I sank, sank, sank
Everything slowly turned black
Until the walls rose up
And my mind wandered
My bed sheets felt cool and divine
Everything was fine
Our suffering merits the celestial, gentle waves bearing the message of love.
I venture not to fall sleep, and keep absorbing nature's enchanting spell, enough mourning in anguish, and revive!
"The old world keep unfolding in your soul, need a new garment." I pay generous attention to abnormalities. In my oceanside inn, nobody inquires about the pandemic, though they prefer to mingle with the seagulls than the crowd. Have we stemmed the tide of the plague at last? The patients go on dying, an obese lady brags she was healed, I sense a quiet uprising against the quarantine here, rich in confidence the hounds of pandemic have lost their tracks. We're thrown in this world for self-concealment. In all the hoaxes we use, paramount is our eternal hope, lost in its boundlessness. But, through my open window, the gentle waves loudly challenge us to new living, at night a meteor nurses the sky with its flame, an errant voyager from alien destinations. Sky remains the untouched domain, like a castle above calmly holding its own.
"A star's gaze, now that would be a sight," I murmur, let the thought boldly snatch the moment like a shrewd brigand.
"Who's profiting from this gruesome horror? And who's the wicked in the guise of benevolence?" Ah the aroma of beachside fire, and a tiny bird floating in the air, obviously pleased to hear the tongue of ocean splattering on the rocks. The moon's sacred dim rays add to the cozy aura, nimbly moving into darkness. I'm expecting to run into a survivor of Poseidon adventure tonight. A timeless flood of images and then the question: What do you make of survival? An irkesome sport, imagining it was worthwhile. Death is at our back, its treacherous stratagem is to frown at its intrusion, has this scent of never approaching too near before its time. But I have built an impregnable bastion, a lion's citadal, that will never succumb. And don't give me the baloney of illusion. A man has the right to deceive himself. Stubbornly besieged by sleep, I surrend to the Queen of Comfort and its stately limitless inner, infernal ocean. "Save yourself in dreams."
Demitrios the golden Spartan captain sets sail for Italy
against the western wind; he will certainly mourn Piraeus,
and with sorrow-striken eyes, he'll invoke Poseidon.
Then he'll depart carrying the long hunting horn.
The small vessel will hold out and he won't fear waves,
but he laughs at Ares--who despises all kinds of irony.
Occasional gusts soothe the skin on his noble face,
unwrinkled and unrugged. Spring water should
quench his dry tongue; it's too warm and tasteless.
Stored in a huge amphora which depicts faces
of gods and warriors engaged in warfare,
it has the same warmth of the sweat that drips
from his hot forehead that has turned red.
Ahead, wisps of fog arise--an imagery whale.
Beyond there are perils and certain delights;
thoughts of danger will perturb him, thoughts
of discovery will enthrall him. He will be experiencing
them on his voyage--what he desires is smooth sailing.
He has heard of sirens and cyclops,
of fertile valleys and fields of yellow wheat;
of buffalos that roam, of goats and sheep that bleat.
How amazed he will be to find rocks
to build the New City*on that pristine shore--
he will declare his Queen sitting in the marble throne!
Demitrios the golden Spartan captain sets sail for Italy
to escape Achille's curse; he refuses to hide in the wooden horse,
he will never return to Greece. Athens and Sparta will not fight
with swords and arrows; their grand plan is to win war by deceit.
Cleverness will defeat the Trojans. Only Helena foresees the worse;
they don't heed her words--Troy will fall to the enemy.
* The New City: Neapolis ( Naples ).
Far from this antique bay and moor,
your plaintive voice sung for my soul,
and lifted me to Ithaca's shore.
Can longing's echoes loudly toll,
and invite me to your front door,
like gods that decreed from a scroll.
I sailed to Troy and far beyond,
to go and fight an epic war.
Men joined, forming paired, loving bonds
to be their bright and glowing North Star.
I took a boy, a vibrant blonde,
with whom I shared many battle scars.
With Poseidon, the fates between,
the sea opposed us. But I loved
the youth, Penelope my Queen.
Please forgive us, my loyal dove,
and spare us from your jealous spleen,
so Zeus sends no bolts from above.
I loved you, but desire's arrow,
against my willpower pierced my heart!
Compelled by Cupid's dart and bow,
we made love. To honor royal art,
I cede my throne: — but you can't know,
loving you both tears me apart.
Without you, I was forced to grow?
Under an orange sky and giant rainbow, Mestor, the free spirited son
of Poseidon, God of the sea, earthquakes, storms, and tamer of horses, climbs upon
his Narwhal, the unicorn of the sea. Setting off with bounding leaps through the
waves the beast travels at full speed.
Ten foot long spiraled tusk protrude from the head of this beautiful beast and point
towards Atlantis.
As he powers on, he listens to faint clicks, whistles, and knock sounds in the wind of
his friend who is following him.
Across the cold icy Arctic water, with excitement and adrenaline pumping, he forces
a path over and through the waves.
Wind sweeps across the dark curly hair on his face as he admires the energy and
power that the ocean waves hold.
His piercing icy blue eyes make him ruggedly handsome and lets one know that he
is in control.
A sign of glimmering movement along the beach in the silver wake of the moon
catches his eyes.
I hear a faint voice in the wind and Narwhal, the unicorn of the sea, drops me off
and I swim ashore.
Welcomed by my beloved Peitho, goddess of persuasion and seduction daughter of
Aphrodite who is waiting for me.
10/12/2015
Narwhal
The narwhal is the unicorn of the sea, a pale-colored porpoise found in Arctic coastal waters and rivers. These legendary animals have two teeth. In males, the more prominent tooth grows into a swordlike, spiral tusk up to 8.8 feet 10 feet (2.7 meters) long. The ivory tusk tooth grows right through the narwhal's upper lip. It lives year-round in the Arctic waters around Greenland, Canada, and Russia.
"The Annunciation of Its Other Self"
Inside the heart
an Ocean swells
its tides take one
further out
in the still reflection
a pearl, like light, cast out
the empty shell
waits and watches
for the message
mirror forming
in rippling vibrations
as breath upon a lake of glass
summoned,
as if by Pythia,
Apollo's Delphi Oracle,
a Prophecy heralding at last
the annunciation
of its other self
swallowed, unspoken,
yet walking
some sentient spectre
invisible trident crown
caeruleum caelum
unafraid
to tread upon
Poseidon’s path
yet its silence soft
as feathers of a dove
holding in its
outstretched arms
sign of Life and Love
walks the embodied ark
Oculum
commanding clouds
contemplating all
its drowning Jonahs
saved by perceived
songs of whales
An ocean swells
inside the heart
its tides take one
further out
the incarnate
from within
arrives to world
without
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Sea of Calm”
https://youtu.be/u033bj7V9Kw
432Hz
https://meditativemind.org/healing-benefits-of-music-tuned-to-432-hz-music-of-nature/
Jonah
Noah’s Ark
Dove
Ark of the Covenant
Poseidon
Oracle of Delphi
Apollo
Prophecy
I Am
Metal, blood, and mascara
Half sunk a shattered visage lies,
A wrinkled lip, a sneer of cold command,
Of boundless and bare
Along the level, sands stretch far away.
the imagery of night, snow, virginity,
lipstick on cigarettes,
cars trapped in the snow,
dingy white sheets, and the chosen few ….
I still drink cider and black
Metal and blood and mascara
Of sackcloth and ashes
Black eyelashes
Blood and hot metal
Half sunk a shattered visage lies,
The ruins of a half-god
Eyes stare wide all along the sands
In a White House on a foreign shore.
Metal, mascara, and methedrine
A half shattered visage die
A wrinkled lip, a sneer of teeth
and leering eyes
Of boundless bare thighs
a hollow sun flares
Along the level,
as the sands stretch far away.
Ode to Ramesses in Poseidon depths lie…
Salacia
Where two mountains almost meet, there is a canyon
Of boulders and unfriendly nature, such as thorny bushes
And self-hating trees and among thistles, snakes roam
It was there in a deep cave the lady of clear water lives
She is Salacia, the goddess of spring water and rivers
Where salmons thrive, and trout wake at dawn
Myth has it the mountain woman had wide hips made
For childbearing and undiluted frizzing of lovemaking
Naturally, any young man wanted to conquer her love
To get to the god who had the key to the origin of water
To meet and drown in the bosom of spirituality was
An adventure only the bravest dared to risk their life
Torn to shreds by bushes, snapped by the branches of
Tree of hatred, and to avoid snakes and scorpions too
Much bloodied, they came down from the mountain
It is said a few met the Salacia, who avidly loved them
Sated, she threw them into the river ending at the ocean
For Poseidon, the king of Briny, to find her an answer