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Hippolytus
That night the torches
lit up only his face,
until I was so moon-struck
and filled with him,
my bed seemed full of flames.
His body left long shadows
all through the doorways of this place,
while I carried my bright heart
in a jar, gently,
until the clay burned my hands.
Revealing myself in the moonlight,
why didn't he turn me
into a doe or a raven?
Instead he hid himself from me,
and I could only watch
when speaking for the crown
or in the races holding
four horses in a line
That was the day he
blocked out the sun
until the horses bucked under
in the run,
so even in death he left me
nothing to hold--
and my life a burned out oil lamp,
and my body an empty cup.
His coldness spreads
to the faces of the world.
The women I've known all my life
spit when they see me,
making signs with their hands.
But still Phaedra sends her love
to fair Hippolytus
in the other world,
with all the hope and happiness
that I lack
unless he gives it me.
Some velvet morning
by Lee Hazelwood circa !967
Some velvet morning when I'm straight
I'm gonna open up your gate
Some velvet morning when I'm straight
I'm gonna open up your gate
Flowers growing on the hill
Dragonflies and daffodils
Learn from us very much
Look at us but do not touch
Phaedra is my name
Some velvet morning when I'm straight
I'm gonna open up your gate
Some velvet morning when I'm straight
I'm gonna open up your gate
Flowers are the things we grew
Secrets are the things we knew
Learn from us very much
Look at us but do not touch
Phaedra is my name
Some velvet morning when I'm straight
I'm gonna open up your gate
Flowers growing on the hill
Some velvet morning when I'm straight
Dragonflies and daffodils
Your poem is classic...
You and I as have many before us been temped to muse
about the lure of myths
"One of the best results of life, is the torment of love"
Dylan Eliot
Myth Weaver
I enjoyed the images - nice - Stella