Ode to the Muse Sweet Charity
When mind and matter meld into one entity
of words inscribed inspired by the Muses flow
let honor by these words on them bestow
so great a wreath they last through all eternity.
From base of Helicon springs forth Pierides
their fluid voices songs from mother Nyx
dark images unseen as often the Hesperides
as Atlas shrugged off Hesperis and evil Styx
lay lurking binding oath unheard by these
those poets writing verses themes untold, unknown
inspired by such Muses, ancient, new, their own.
From Cratos, words of Strength burst forth like combatant
from ancient wars of yore, Phoenicia and Illyria,
the conquests Roman gods demanded ere Pax Romana
allowed vox populi to pen in waxen rasa tabula
such hidden thoughts of philosophical incompetence
arranged anew by Moirae: Clotho, Mors, and Decima
who Spin the webs we weave allotted by Lachesis,
snipped by heartless Atropos to leave life as it is.
But, Cratos with no sense of friend or foe
no values, sense of why, upon which road to go,
cuts to the quick, relentless, no remorse,
cuts off the head, the arms, the lower limbs from cor'se
to freeze the mind, retake the heart, unload the soul
with words like saber lopping pieces from the whole,
no help from Zelus, Bia, or Nike's Victory;
yet, hope in Eleutherios still offers liberty.
Behold, we live and sleep, both you and I,
Sweet Charity, in worlds our own, the Horae,
guiding separate worlds, you there, I writing here,
Adrestea my private Muse, and you Graced by good cheer:
Aye, Aglaea, and Euphrosyne,
both beauty, sister Mirth,
and Thalia, three, together Gratia,
Aye, graces, charm, fertility
a bed of creativity
embodied in the Muse Charis,
all three the Charites
from which comes you, Sweet Charity.
Poetry by NotaDeadPoet
Read 459 times
Written on 2007-02-23 at 20:02
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Zoya Zaidi |
