Tag Archives: greek mythology

There Once Was A Dog Named Cerberus

There once was a dog named Cerberus
Who made all of the people nerverus.
When he bit Miss White
By the moon’s bright light,
Her screams made poor Cerberus real nerverus!

Oh What Would I Give To See Where Nymphs Live

Oh what would I give
To see where nymphs live!
Strolling through forest glade
I have met
Many a staid maid.
I regret
That, on my way
Through forest green
I have never seen
Flighty Aphrodite.
But, perchance
I may
Join nymphs in their dance
One day,
And hear Pan’s pipes play.

Do Nymphs Still Play?

“Do nymphs still play
In woodland glades today
And the sunlight gleam
On pristine stream,
Where Flighty Aphrodite
Goes dancing and romancing?”
I asked Christine.

She made reply,
With a sultry look, in her one good eye,
“I aim to please
But the pollon makes me sneeze
So no rolling in the hay
For me today”.
Christine is such a tease …

The mind is a labyrinth

Yesterday evening, a good friend was leafing through my collection of poems, “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind”. As she leafed through, she read aloud several of the poems, including the below piece, which is entitled “Labyrinth”,

“I hear the minotaur roar,

And see the vampire soar.

Lost in the labyrinth of my mind,

Can I a way out find,

Via Ariadne’s thread,

Or must I remain in the land of the dead?

A place where the shadows forever fall,

And no birds call”.


I shall be taking a break from blogging for the next few days, and will return on Thursday 17th or Friday 18th April.


There Are No Pockets In A Shroud

There are no pockets in a shroud.
The proud
And the humble
All must tumble
Into the grave.
But you should save
One solitary coin
To enjoin
The ferryman to take you on
Your final journey.

The Call Of The Sirens

The Sirens sang to Odysseus in Homer’s tale.
Lashed to the mast he did not fail
To resist their fatal call.
Should I listen to their song
I would fall
Eere long
And be lost among Hades ghostly throng.

My future may be as my past
For there is none to tie me to the mast.
The Sirens sing
And bring
A brief
From grief.
Yet the wise know
That their song signifies nought but woe.

A Sober Satyr Reflects

So many angels with broken wings.
Do fortune’s slings
Bring them low?
Some things
I know
And wish it where not so.

Heaven is here
When angels are near,
But as the years advance
The dance
Is ever more staid.
I have with angels played
And for the pleasure paid.