Aoide, Silken Is The Falling Moon
Silken is the falling moon
her light gently cast above this place
Aoide's crumbling shrine,
I touch these stones and think of her
and reach out toward the sky;
bright evening clouds declining
moonlight fills her eyes.
Friday, July 6, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: muse,mythology,romanticism
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
In Greek mythology, Aoide was one of the three original
Boeotian muses. She is the muse of voice and song.
Daughter of gods! Muse of men!
For my mortality shed not a tear
though on these ruins I lie in great despair;
I know this place, fruitfulness and knowledge
blending art championing its righteous cause.
I see the gentle slope near the hill where Bacchus
stood in the shadows and paused, his voice silent,
his chin dripping with wine shattered by your song.
Lesser gods bedeviled, the wind your breath,
femininity your power and your strength.
In poetic works humble thoughts grow bold
but music adds dimension to the soul.
I look upon this visage and handless arm,
time can never mar an ageless form
shameless in its purity and charm.
In the heavens this shape stridently wove
entwined by stars Aoide's memory thus enthroned!
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