Styx
by
Robin Ouzman Hislop
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Not rated by the Author.
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white trefoil in a starry way,
a laurel wreath, rape of leda
& the swan's song is no more.
as if, a new morn should spawn
again, as a faun upon the lawn,
as hawk, bird, worm gets dawn
& the riddle of me, dark lady.
invisible yet, at my own alter,
unfathomable in question there,
in the mirror’s pool as you pass
to appear through an isle of glass.
in a dream that's without scream
& faces lost sown in night’s seam.
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Gift of Tongues
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| Reviewed by * Aberjhani |
2/6/2006 |
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| An intense vision and fusion of mythological imagery and spiritual essence. Enjoyed this very much. |
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| Reviewed by Only A Poet |
2/6/2006 |
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| the images are so fresh and very vibrant. wonderfully expressed in such classic style. |
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| Reviewed by Sage Sweetwater |
2/2/2006 |
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Oh, Robin, I love the idea of white clover! The wife of King Tyndareus of Sparta, loved by Zeus (Jupiter) in the form of a swan., mother of Castor, Pollux, and Helen. And I marvel at your faun, imaging it, a little sylvan deity with pointed ears, small horns, and a goat's tail, half human, half goat. I am a Sagittarius, centaur my zodiac symbol! A wonderful mythological poem, Robin. It is a delight to read your poetry. I shall wait for your next, my dear friend. Thanks again for all you do for me. I must say it.
Sage |
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| Reviewed by C. McGovern-Bowen |
2/2/2006 |
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I guess I'll be breaking out the BIG dictionary for each of your exquisitly abstruse writes, Robin-- gift of tongues indeed!
Love this river journey to the great beyond. Masterfully expressed to say the least...
Peace and Blessings,
Carolyn |
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