Nymphs

The heart of Hellas heeds the call of Nyx; And slowly now, the rosy light declines. On one rebellious candle, eyes transfix. Circean servants round my form entwine. From marsh and mountain wandered certain doom. The southern streams have borne my Iliad. From tightening vines, anemones now bloom, If death should find me now, it finds me glad. Her roaming digits rearrange my mind; Now fear is foreign. Fleetingly, I’m fixed. Euphoric, I’m forgiven in her bind, And peacefully, I’m drowning in her bliss. ​ Temptation foul! Lay off your hands so I Might fly to where yet stands some clarity. Then she arrives, and traces faltered fate. She dances on the grave of primal crime. Perhaps she knows she soothes an ebbing hate, As she subdues the restless, whitened lines. Calypso weeps in envy of your charm. Retain your binds; keep prisoner of me! For never can we come to any harm If ever sit I twixt the pair of ye.

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A Little Bit about the Poem

Poets like Yeats and Kavanagh love drawing threading connections between Modern Ireland and Ancient Greece. If I'm going to even start to make a mark on the world of literature, it almost seems like a rite of passage.

That half-rhyming couplet was a late addition. I threw it in some three years after originally writing it. I might change it again, or another poem somewhere on the site, so you better keep coming back and reading them!