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persephone deserves no poetry [Aug. 8th, 2005|01:49 pm]
Flat Paper Scroll
[mood |creative]

Persephone presses her feather pen
to an open vein and sings
Demeter passes her bone thin hands
through flames that will not maim
for fear of those women
who brought death out of spite

Where poor Hades sat upon his throne
enthralled by such a pretty face
cowled old woman whispering words
in his ever ready ears
to snatch away such a "blossoming flower"
And he to be the one that's blamed

Winter as the mother wanders the land
her tears streaking frost upon the grounds
"Woe is me, my innocent daughter!
Gone in a waver of a flame!
Let the world suffer, Woe"
and so the world begins a slow demise

Pretty persephone lies in wait
like a spider upon her silks
"Eat but a fruit and nothing more
6 seeds of the many there are
percise or trapped you will be,
do this my daughter presephone!
beguile the wits of a passing imp
to procure the fated fruit
if ever you loved me
let this be the rite"

and supped from pomegranite cup
to bring winter upon the earth
for Demeter's silent revenge
So the Gods may know her worth
and tremble in their beds

To suffer but a passing time
in darkness without sun
glady did I give it up
and though I am married
to a man I cannot love nor stand
here my confession writ
in victorious exalted hand.