Posts tagged ‘mythology’

27/07/2013

The Minotaur’s Freedom (video)

 

 

 

A short video for my poem “The Minotaur’s Freedom” (which can be read further down this collection).

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15/06/2013

The Thunder Birds

 

The thunder birds could tame the sun.

They flew, although their bones were stone.

The broken parchment of their wings

Could soar them through volcanic skies.

 

With jade for eyes and quartz for teeth

They hunted over nightmare seas.

At night they slept upon the moon,

And hung like bats with diamond claws.

 

And when they roared they split the earth,

The sound would echo on for years,

The scars they ripped were canyon deep,

Whole mountains crumbled at their screech.

 

One day they simply disappeared.

They left this world, they left their fear.

 

 

27/04/2013

Egyptian Vulture

 

How many ways to kill our pasts?

On wings which carried deserts north

The pharaoh’s birds would soar with souls.

We clipped those wings and pinned those souls.

 

How many desolations built?

From mountain peaks to Shiva’s shrine:

We emptied every one of birds

And wondered at the silent skies.

 

How many ways to carve our guilt?

Those perfect wings, those lines of flight,

Which glide from life to life beyond.

Those messengers of ancient tombs.

 

Out of the sun there wheeled the birds:

How many ways to praise this world?

 

11/04/2013

The Halcyon Beasts

 

Above are creatures born of flies

Which stab and spike and reek of blood.

The tales all speak of nests they make

From neatly piled up bones and scales.

 

It’s said their wings are sky made flesh,

And dry as drought their awful skin.

It’s said they scream beyond all sound,

And move so high they breathe the clouds.

 

And if these creatures mark you out

There’s nothing you can do to hide.

No reedbed thick, no lily-pad

Will keep you safe, will save your life.

 

The creatures of the deathly air

Form rainbows from our world’s despair.

 

 

26/01/2013

The Waters of the Acheron Gorge (Walk No.1)

 

The storm had turned the river white,

And everywhere the waters flowed.

The plain trees dripped and deadwood drenched,

A thousand springs welled through the rock.

 

We took the river, cold and deep,

And waded past Achilles’ stream.

Our footsteps on the gravel bed,

The same as heroes, gods and men.

 

And from the water, plants and air

We sensed a deeper current there:

The flood would usher in the heat,

And Demeter would swell the fields.

 

From facts we walked, from knowledge fixed.

Then – story drenched – emerged in myths.

 

 

03/11/2012

The Man Who Knew Too Much

 

Withdrawn again into his words,

His empty casket carved with tales:

“The Legend of His Years at Sea”;

“The Mystery of His Broken Heart”.

 

The Golden Fleece he washed and shrank.

His deities were less than frank.

He knows there’s nowhere left to run,

Yet still his need to flee this place.

 

“An island paradise”, they said.

To him it stinks of rich men’s debts,

And saps like him who pick the tab,

Or pass it on to orphaned kids.

 

So off his little stylus runs.

In fourteen lines: a fake escape.