I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
Son of Peleus, valiant Argonaut And lovely Thetis, immortal nereid Achilles, for the Achaeans you fought Until Agamemnon would not concede
By D. J. Reddall7 months ago in Poets
Tiresias, blind prophet, you could see: Narcissus, blessed with beauty, would flourish For so long as unknowing he could be;
By D. J. Reddall8 months ago in Poets
Many think they are familiar with him: Zeus, lord and master of the many gods But before his wrath dispatched lightning grim
Without a muse, a poet cannot sing An empty jug contains no trace of oil Frustrated are those, nourishment seeking From vessels empty, despite farmers' toil
Shining Apollo gazed at you with lust Darling daughter of Priam's teeming Troy Bright Phoebus, with a gift, sought your warm trust
Instead of trying To eradicate all threats Learn to be immune
There are texts that cannot sustain frequent rereading No matter who you become, you will find nothing new in them This is the addict's secret folly
A particle one moment, next a wave Who can lucidly define energy? More than, “the power to do work,” we crave Who can make water legible, like thee?
Are great stories made To immunize their readers Against wickedness?
How many dearly Held beliefs are based on a Faulty translation?
Confirmed bachelors Have suffered a betrayal They cannot forget
How strange to envy a dramatic splash To wish that I was lithe and wild like you To imagine your tanned, ecstatic dash And wish that I too could vanish from view
