Persephone Thesis: EssayPersephone Thesis: Essay ComponentPersephone Thesis: Essay6 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
"Happy is he among men upon earth who has seen these mysteries!
It is generally accepted among historical scholars that the cult of Demeter and Persephone, or Kore, existed in Greece and the surrounding Mediterranean islands long before the traditional Olympian gods became entrenched. Her origins are Cretan . Like Aphrodite, the mother and daughter goddess represent a matriarchal form of fertility worship in the forms of crops and nature, and through this the cycle of birth, growth and death. This myth, however, has taken hold of imaginations from its evolutions into the Eleusinian mysteries of Ancient Greece, to the paintings of Victorian Europe, to today, each with their own distinctive takes and emphases on the story. Perhaps it is the fact that we know so little about the original tale of Persephone the daughter of Demeter, goddess of fertility, snatched
Untitled.A whisper,Untitled.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A voice, a murmur
She's afraid, confused,
She recognizes the sounds of his voice
The gentle hum carried by the wind,
The words are oh so familiar.
Is she dreaming?
It could be a nightmare
But it's impossible, it's all impossible.
The day before it happened
Sitting in the park
Everything was hazed pink, pink, pink
Everything was love.
His words, verbatum
"Forever never ends,
even when life is dead."
But it died, drowning.
I feel his whisper
Cold as the waters that took life away, away, away.
Cold as the stone of the grave.
"Forever never ends" he says,
Even though I'm dead.
Do not.Do not tell me that you love me,Do not.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's not something I want to hear.
Do not tell me that you need me,
That you want to hold me dear--
To you chest, so I can hear your heart beat,
Do not once for a moment,
Think that I am incomplete.
I'm fine, thank you, without you,
Without anyone holding me back
I don't really need you,
You're not something that I lack.
I lack a stable heart, you see,
Mine's different from the rest.
It doesn't need some silly affection,
To bring out its best.
It doesn't have a best, I'd say,
If I may be so bold,
It's cracked and charred and hollow,
It leaves you numbly cold.
Do not tell me that you love me,
I am in a paper town.
I'm empty, you can't save me,
It's best to let me drown.
three ways to fall aparti.three ways to fall apart1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
we were seventeen
when you promised me that
this tiny dustbowl of
a southern town was not going to be
everything my life was made of.
it wasn't hard to believe
because the maps you'd spread across
your ceiling never lied (since you claimed
it was easier to dream when they
were stuck above you
in the night).
i remember the lines you'd drawn
in a felt pen, red because it seemed important,
seemed louder than the rest, and
i remember how you
would trace the roads with your eyes until you
fell asleep. you had a knack for
memorizing every escape route, and when i asked why
you answered that it was because one day you
would have to run.
when i asked if i could fly away with you
you said yes, and that night i dreamt
of runaways and falling stars. i never was sure
if they were supposed to mean something bigger than us.
sometimes when i lie awake at night
i wonder now how far we might
have gotten if we ever left, if we had jumped into
your old impala and left the road behind us -
.i am perfecting the art.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like houdini perhaps, or
plath, my head in the oven
.when her love left, it left.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the house empty
and she says
i hope one day it'll
come back to me,
cos i don't keep this shotgun
on my front porch for nothin'
fracturesbindweed lungs spill throughfractures2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my oak branch ribs,
up my throat and
around my thorny tongue
make their way down to
cross my clavicles,
elbows and cracked milky
they hold me tighter than you ever did
.i feel change, the way.2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
the birdsong changes when the
cat goes out for lunch
early mornings break my heartDear xx,early mornings break my heart2 years ago in Letters More Like This
It's 4:30 in the morning and your lights are on. I know why I'm awake, plagued by sleepless nights and too much coffee and too little time. Plagued by loneliness; the kind that, ironically, refuses to leave me alone. What I'm curious about, though, is what you're doing up. Are you in love? Are you lonely? Do you get nightmares, too? I wonder what you think about, when the quiet of the world sits like a blanket of stillness over our bodies. It tucks us in but doesn't wish us sweet dreams, because it's afraid to jinx it. As if wishing us good dreams is going to give us bad ones. Maybe we've been doing it all wrong--maybe that's why I'm wrapped up in darkness every time I close my eyes. I'd like to think you'd laugh at that, call me silly, because of course it gets dark when your eyelids flutter shut. I wonder if you're actually asleep, and just too scared to close the lights. Perhaps you're dreaming, the light from your lamp guiding you to some place happy and beautiful a
AscensionAscensionAscension2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Clouds are our purest coping mechanism.
Starving sleep and apologies.My sleep is starving.Starving sleep and apologies.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It is shivering sweat like snow
across my shoulders as I sob scream
after scream against your skin;
"sorry, I'm so sorry,
go back to sleep."
I am sad
and struggling to stay
together but you slump
against my sickness
and hold me
Why is There a God?Why is there a God?Why is There a God?2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
What makes Him there?
Why is he powerful?
Why does he care?
What if God is evil,
Everything bad you see?
With all the evil here,
It's not far-fetched to me.
What if God is weak,
And just trying his best?
Every bit of evil,
Is him failing his test.
What if God is lonely,
And wishes he could talk?
Envies the humans,
That on Earth walk.
What if God is uncaring,
More important things to do?
He isn't at all worried,
What happens to you.
What if God is overwhelmed,
With everything he knows?
He tries to block it out,
Ignoring where it goes.
What if God is sleeping,
And will wake up late?
Soon he'll realize,
This effect on fate.
What if God is focused,
And can't see the world?
Too busy helping,
The praying little girl.
What if God isn't real,
And your religion is fake?
I have to wonder,
What difference it would make.
.the reaper plays.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
solitaire when he's got
some time to kill
but when your time's
up it's back to work, cos
he's gotta make a living
like the rest of us
i can't keep walking on these dry-rot bonesoh, i am not a poet;i can't keep walking on these dry-rot bones1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
like the ink scratches
of plath, i am
specter boy: decay,
dispose, & disappoint
because this is the way
that writers wane -
(this hangman head is no
survivor story, & gods
do not burn out
.i would shed my skin.2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
with autumn, but my veins would
crack like the dry leaves
.i am empty,.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
insides carved out like
pumpkins on halloween
and i will tell the kids that
treats come with tricks
i was born with something even
the night can't hide
.i have learnt enough about gravity.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to know that he can do what i can't, myself
snap my bones like twigs
he says that beautiful things are
the easiest to break
but not my palmssomewhere along the linesbut not my palms2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my heart got so deprived
that i fell in love with
every bit of affection
i could get my hands on
you were lovely
and i was lonely
and you fell in love with my voice
but not my mouth
fell in love with my words,
but not my palms.
and no matter
how hard i try
i don't know how to turn
my garden of a body
when i loved you, you weren't conceitedone day, i will stop writingwhen i loved you, you weren't conceited2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and it won't be because of you.
it'll be because of the streak of irony
in my mother's hair, the way it curls
towards the left on her forehead
as she falls to her death on a
cold December morning. she was a
cusp, you know, and that killed her.
one day i will stop feeling
and it won't be because of you.
it'll be because of the way my mother's back
arches when you know you aren't done
with her, the way she collapses on your
sweaty form, breathless and satiated.
she'll be done with you by the end of it,
she'll be done with me too.
one day i will stop listening
and it won't be because of you.
it'll be because of the fetal curve of my
mother's eyelashes and how they
hurt her sight every time she looked away,
not shy but deliberate, spiteful and bold.
she was a teacher, you know, and that
killed her too.
one day i will stop writing
and it won't be because of you.
maria:she is splayedmaria:2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
beneath the moon, a
[star]fish out of
swallows the sounds of
keyed piano concertos
& suddenly, she
realizes - this
is how it must feel to
be [at peace
PTSDWhen I was younger my dad was my heroPTSD1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
my mom said, look up to your father, he's the smart one
he fed me dreams of harvard in small spoonfuls ,
college ideas at the mere age of eight
i swallowed it, caught it like a raindrop
always begging for more, a little more please papa
fifth grade came, and my dad became a harder man
my mama repeated , still look up to him honey,
he knows, he knows
seventh grade brought shouting anger and sadness
my papa gave me the talk, the talk about ptsd
he said it would change him, make him not my papa at times
the monster isn't me he says, just something you can't find under your bed
throughout his screaming and abuse,
my mama said, look up to him, he still knows
but his wisdom is just frayed at the edges, like your new skinny jeans
i could not help but see my perception of my father was altered
where was his support? why did he take my moms support from me?
my perception of him was forever altered,
it was an invisible scar on my arm,
something surgery can n
Survival of the FittestHear me read itSurvival of the Fittest2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am crack'd. Open to the pit
with the nub and root exposed.
I am silver pierced and punctured
with holes and protruding pieces
of rocked raw wounds rubbed open.
I am barely shattering my lungs
by inhaling the same air as you
even long after your departure.
With a bile-laced smile I pave
and fill in crack and crevices
I am more than disfigured limbs
and disillusioned heart muscle,
scraping a breath down my trachea.
More than the mess you have made.
I hold in my innards, and survive.