Sisyphus
A man, who by the fluke of nature
had lived for 500 years preaching
unity and peace
He used to ride on his white mule
from the village to the next people
listened to him and agreed also
Everybody wants peace when we
Get rid of so and so, we must be
ready to fight and kill the enemy
When modern times came, he went
around in a car and his audience
has grown worldwide
He is a secular saint
Looks like a Jewish scholar I met
in Copenhagen, playing the piano
Lately, he has been depressed; it
has dawned on him, man is not fit
For a peaceful life, strife is the glue
Binding us together in common
disharmony of righteousness and
the hatred that brings
DOG CHASES TAIL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In circles goes the dog,
a furry whirlwind, tail a-wagging,
his nose to the ground, sniffing out the ghost of a bone
with no clue as to where he left it.
Ahh, the circle grows, and me thinks he’s quite mad!
Truth be told, that bone is a relic,
a trophy of nothing, a piece of yesterday's joy,
devoid of any savory delight;
yet, he’s bewitched
by the lure of that which once he had.
The quest persists, but time, the trickster,
plays its multifarious games.
Memory grows faint, but
the haze of longing remains
lost in the labyrinth of time.
Distractions dart by—a squirrel, a leaf,
But wait—what’s this? A flash of color
bounces by and the spell is broken,
the quest for the bone forgotten,
distraction wagging his tail.
And so he circles, a furry Sisyphus,
chasing phantoms in the grass,
he sniffs, snorts, and spins—
a canine circus act.
7:01 ~ this isn't any fun.
7:02 ~ but what can i do?
7:03 ~ the gods have it in for me.
7:04 ~ i can't stand this torture anymore.
7:05 ~ i can't die; I'll be always alive?
7:06 ~ how did i get myself into this fix?
7:07 ~ why am I barred from getting to 7:11?
7:08 ~ please! get this hell off my plate.
7:09 ~ oh, stop it with that unbearable line!
7:10 ~ "go back to 7:00, and start all over again."
7:01 ~ this isn't any fun.
7:02 ~ but what can I do?
7:03 ~ ...
Sisyphus’ Silence
I sit, a silent, carved-out zone,
A soul entrapped, unlit, unwhole,
The majority’s tide grinds flesh to bone,
While others’ feelings wallow, roll
In mud that clings, a river’s drone.
Sisyphus slumps at mountain’s base,
Scowls at the stone, then dares a smile,
“Nevermore” hums through empty space,
The gods, once loud, now mute, exiled.
I feel like Sisyphus most ev’ryday.
A constant struggle carrying my load.
A punishment that never goes away
To push my rock down here in Death’s abode
How well I know just how Tantalus feels:
To grasp at dreams forever out of reach.
And knowing that admitting this reveals
I’ll never learn the lessons life will teach.
And Ixion, the least known of the three,
Spinning on his burning wheel forever,
At times I do believe that he is me.
And when might it all end? I say never…
Often I imagine brotherhood with
These men of ancient fantasy and myth…
Always watched and regarded
Ever sought as it's departed
Inquired about, looked at often
Only ignored when inside our coffin
Perception might be the key
It is wise if we take heed
Once began, it will not stop
Like King Sisyphus and his rock
Through it, all will come to rot
With money it cannot be bought
At moments futile, it always wins
A steady path with no end
What's it like beyond the veil
I guess only time will tell
Sisyphus, king of Corinth, challenged the monopoly.
Of gods over the heavens, salvation, and life endless
Deciding to teach him a lesson perpetually
Gods imposed upon him a punishment that seemed senseless.
Sisyphus had to roll a rock from the foot of a hill.
To the top of the same, and then drop it to the bottom.
He had to, then, roll it again and repeat the task till
Life sticks to his physique and psyche to the least quantum
Sisyphus did not resist but performed it, the myth says.
He found fulfilment and even enjoyed this tireless toil.
The gods, as they failed after testing him in all the ways
Retreated, as hibernating snakes within themselves coil
Character, confidence, vision, and mission bring laurels.
Doesn't the myth of Sisyphus grant us many more morals?
“Sisyphus in love”
stuck in a forever
flowering field
of oddly
even
petalled daisies
day in and day out
plucking and chanting
she loves me
she loves me
not
By any river, all the waterfalls,
Every scene of life, we toast the stars.
we run and we sing, with passion in heart
Just like Kurt's guitar: broken apart.
Shrinking the world, borders go away
In this fantasy, we'd better stay.
Mind strong words, that set us free
Freedom is key, for you and for me.
Life is a movie by Wes Anderson;
Absurd yet superb, Don't leave it unshown.
Across ups and downs, we'll face any risk
When yearning is guide, we pass them brisk.
Don't escape from dark day of roaming
Let's go through the endless gloaming.
Youth is a fire, that burns the fear,
It's not so easy, but deem it dear.
give your restless hand, let's tango in sync,
With the "sweet life", we drown and think.
Listen to Horace and seize every day,
In our tough journey; we'll find every way.
Oh, let us defy... death's cold embrace
And let our dreams; soaring in space.
In time's symphony, for morrow's bright,
The moon and the sun, lead us through night.
Together we'll seek a purpose untold,
Find the meaning of the boulder we hold.
For life is a song, a chord to play.
Tune with it but, forget to obey.
Sometimes Sisyphus may be envied amain
by long lean spell sufferers, no less.
Because at least he could time and again
enjoy his euphoria near success.
I am
King Sisyphus.
Known as noble and great
Why such jealousy among gods?
They wanted my great doom.
Hence the trial
Boulder!
I am
King Sisyphus.
I carried the boulder.
I proved I am greater than them.
They were so astonished.
I felt better.
Bolder!
I am
King Sisyphus.
I say, win over death.
Keep your mind, spirits united.
Overcome all hurdles.
Give brethren your
Shoulder!
I am
King Sisyphus.
Give confidence to all.
The universe calls you ever.
Fight! Erase all evils.
May God be your
Molder!
26 May 2021
Heptastich Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
Sisyphus. The Might.
Death now humiliated,
chained by mortal king,
will you remain with the dead ?
No. This is not yet your realm.
Sisyphus. The Craft.
Hades now outraged,
outwitted by mortal king,
do you yet deceive the dead ?
Yes. Such remains your realm.
Sisyphus. The Hill.
Zeus, now intercede,
chastise the mortal king,
will his eternity be spared ?
No. Such is not his reward.
Sisyphus. The Heft.
Might fades, craft fails,
contrite the mortal king,
is the futility to endure ?
Yes. Such is his reward.
Sisyphus. Now Fall.
19th July 2020
I scale a mountain high
Sandals on feet propel me toward the sky.
Breathing thin air through thin nostrils I sweat and try
To minimize being battered by the razor winged fly
That scalps my beard and the lashes of each eye.
Honestly, with each heavenly step I try
But stumble, and am humbled to cry…
Not for lack of joy or for lack of sadness, but for my
hollow motive: deception is a lie.
And yet I persist to wonder why
This task is a punishment and a crime. I
Yearn to know, but through weariness, sigh.
Sisyphus
He rolled the boulder with his burdened shoulder up that treacherous summit
Tricked in hubristic self-righteousness again and again he thought he had done it
We engage in similar madness regardless of whether Gods punished us somehow
or we simply can’t fathom another journey on the path to inner enlightenment
miss the signs and the signposts when or ways fail when stones refuse to relent
but can be split into fragments when we grant us permission for change and allow
release alternative solutions of metaphorical splinters from arrogant highbrow
where peaks of peace result from shattered acceptance and humble atonement
Once we’re forgiven
and forgive our delusion
that we know and are certain
hold truth when we don’t
stones can roll all by themselves
and moss rests at the cliff face
Sisyphus would hardly stop
even on the mountain's top.
Volodymyr Knyr
2017
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