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Miscellaneous Verse by Areia Daphnaia

Goofy Hymns to the Immortals

(written one very silly night) -To The Twelve- I love you guys, I think you're swell! I seek you as a Frenchie Would seek the Pimpernel. -To Dionysos- You swingin' cat, You're so divine! (I sing this though I don't drink wine.) -To Persephone- O, groovy chick, Your hair's so pale, And your head is covered With a dark black veil. But you look pretty good In your sparkling gems And I get the feeling You and Hades are--friends! -To Ares- Hey, Big A, You're outta sight! So, where have you planned Your next big fight? -To Aphrodite- Let's all now praise Our good friend 'Dite, 'For She goes off with Ares To spend the nightie.

Those Who Call

(inspired by a lovely card I have) Beneath Her place so high and mighty, Along the shore lies Aphrodite, And as She bathes in deep sea water, She is, again, the ocean's daughter. Above Her, magnets pull the tides And silver-white Selene rides And to her left the Huntress waxes While waning Hekate, right, relaxes. Below her, speeding through the waves, The grand Earthshaker misbehaves. But soon He calms His wild domain And nymphs disperse like gentle rain.

For the Glory of Hera

(Note: This poem has a lot of eighteenth-century references, so beware!) (Part I) I must strive to be a better poetess, And today I do so for the glory of Hera. Herakles may be that by name, but not by nature. He denies the peacock's eyes While I, I take the white arm and Place it gently between my hands. So lovely and bejeweled, white arms intertwined With ingenious snakes, golden scales and ruby eyes, Mouths that open and snap shut. Circling around The model of queenliness, they twinkle with knowledge. Glorious rings, clinking bracelets, diadem, and magnificent Necklace-- all the work of the Divine Smith, who now Enjoys the true Mother-Love. His brother never will. (Part II) The poem shall not end there. It does not give Her full credit. No-one ever does, And nothing is ever enough, for the Granddaughter Goddess Granddaughter of Gaia, the abundance of earth, the warm heart often spent, often exhausted by men. Regal always, the spirit of royalty, The very dilution of an aristocrat. She is wary of Kypris, the young coquette. Flitting in Air, She laughs. She walks beside Her in a delirium, A precious Rococo fantasy. Rustling peach silk brocades, ruffled petticoats Collapsable panniers, frothy engengeantes, Echelles and pearls and lace and love, Little pretty shoes for flirting with nature. How different a figure She makes beside the Baroque matron! Velvet and voluptousness, richness and darkness. Still beautiful, but a grave sarabande And not a sprightly badinerie. But Mother Hera still sparks the flame, Of desire, of anger, of passion, of spirit. The cool marble never hides the copper bursts. The formalities ease Her countenance.

Some Select Haikus

-For Ares- The bloody ragings Of You, the lonesome War God Haunt me to the depths -For Artemis- The Maiden Huntress Now hitches up Her chiton And joins the dancing -For Aphrodite- Foam of the bright sea Echoes in Her laughing eyes And Her caresses. -For Hebe- Cold, gray stone Goddess yet still crowned with daffodils clean another dish -For Hermes- God on the mountain Through the blooming pasture flies Bringing nymphs His charms
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Last updated: Tue Feb 2 16:01:18 EST 1999