Mythology. Poems - Poems about Mythology.

She Shuffled the Stars

We have seen you before, Seeker—
in the candlelit corners of a thousand lifetimes,
eyes heavy with questions,
hands trembling with the weight of tomorrow.

Maya sat before you,
her kitchen dressed in black,
as if the walls themselves were keeping secrets.
Steam rose from coffee cups like incense,
and between sips, she touched the deck—
a living thing in her hands.

She shuffled the

Slanderella

She came down screaming, cloaked in flame,  
A bolt of spite, no soul to tame.  
From hilltop high she cast her spell—  
The art of slander, taught too well.  

They built her shrines in whispered breath,  
In gossip’s grip, they danced with death.  
Her tongue, a blade that cuts

Senses ' Di-Vices

Hear, hear!
I can feel her heart drift

Who knows why she loves me
I hate the smell of Cupid’s grift

She puts her finger to my lips
I taste her brüt silence

Behind my eyes
Dionysus watches neon signs shift

A Philosopher’s Grief

We sit together in the shadowed halls beyond time—
Plato, Socrates, Spinoza, Protagoras,
Aristotle, Pythagoras, Kant, Descartes, Aquinas—
our words once rivers,
now dust in the mouths of men.

I, Plato, speak first:
“I left you the Sun,
the realm beyond your cave of illusions—
but you turn your face from the light,
content with dancing shadows.”

Socrates leans forward,
his eyes burning with quiet fire:
“I

Born Beneath Plutonian Skies

I was born beneath Plutonian skies,
Where silence held the scream of centuries,
And the air was thick with memory—
Of kings undone and gods forgotten.

In the shadow of Saturn’s gaze,
My soul arrived not to live,
But to remember…
To tear through veils stitched by empires,
To speak in the language of dust and fire.

They marked my chart with fear—
Pluto in

If Vulcan Wakes

If Vulcan Wakes (c) 2025 by The Entangled Pair

If Vulcan fully wakes again and shakes his fiery dreads
unleashing hell in all it's fury on our fearful heads
I tell you once again my friends in words of common rhyme
we perish not in watery graves but in the fires this time

can't see the forest for the trees
can't

Darkness into Life

Hell's fury ignites the tormented winds of horrifying fire.
Earth's howls in pain, as its land degenerates into a nightmare.

Swirling red dust and sand tortured and tormented the fallen.
Blistering is the swirling ash and flame beckon into its calling.

Tornadic flames and ash forming a bird of fire, she screeches in pain.
Unfolding its magnificent wings of fire

Between Margins and the Dreams

"I would like to see you living in better conditions." Hafiz

Exiled and devoured by smart bombs,
The alchemy of history, rises above
The dazzling explosions, and the fury of shock waves.
Read the winds that blow in time’s face,
Of high struggles and passages of hope
Between the margins and the dreams,
Recurring parentheses in ancient books.
They live in their offering,

Endless conflicts

I'm torn between two distant worlds ~
one steeped in wickedness and sin,
the other pure and righteous;
my mind drifts like oil on water.

Alluring is the glory of heaven,
promised if I remain pure and holy,
yet enticing is the frivolity
hidden in jollity they call "sin."

My mind imagines the afterlife the Bible depicts,
yet I savour worldly pleasures my flesh

Spiritual possession

Through an opal window I saw a cloud,
changing colors from blue to orange to red,
like a burning fire.
I was swept off my feet,
floating on a bridge between this world and the next.

My body no longer in my possession,
I hear voices beyond my choices,
juggled on a hawser like a puppet on strings ~
my entire being a

Every Remaining Last God

Covered by cloud the out-of-sight tops of soaring towers,
Buckling under their own weight, beginning to topple from 
Those airy heights;
The gaping breach - the once impregnable outer wall!
The inner keep ablaze with greedy, insatiable flame;  
A thunderous cacophony of crashing cymbals and blaring 
Horns;
Wide-eyed lurching panic desperately grasping at the fleeting 
Moment...
And the whole

Pandora’s Box

(“Pandora’s Box”, 2014, original pen and ink and oil)

Pandora’s Box

I don’t know who she was,
What she did or how she did it,
And maybe as the first it was sublime
Or maybe she was just another woman 
With the kind of perfect snatch 
To launch a thousand ships
On a sea of broken hearts,
But Pandora certainly left her

His Broken Soul

His Broken Soul 

I was a spark in morning’s light,
But that... has faded out of sight.
I don’t know, Father—do You forgive?
Yet clouded with pride, I struggle to live. 

My heart bleeds.
I only wanted to be seen.
But it’s been centuries—maybe more—
And still, I stand outside Your door. 

Father, I confess,
I did You wrong—and I regret.
But this

Nebulous Horizon

When alabaster twilights 
rain upon celestial roses,
with tear-soaked trinkets 
of ancient aromas ~
I wear their amaranth scents 
upon acrylic wrists, 
and tie my terracotta threads
of twinkling trust
with those topaz ribbons 
of reminiscent tales, 
slowly floating 
in an opal olive fog ~
where a bouquet of bones 
decorates my heart-shaped coffin
and this hoaxed bride,  
veiled in

Lithe marvel

lithe marvel with wings
progeny of pegasus
~ proud magnificence



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