Aphrodite

I'm doing my coursework final piece in A2 art at the moment, and i've studied Cy Twombly to get to this point, his pieces include a certain amount of classical referencing, like the metaphysical poets and loads of other poets, writers and artists throughout history.
Anyway ! This piece is called Aphrodite (Greek goddess of Love)
The little notes at the end will explain references.

Aphrodite

She says you will be mine,
my Helen, my adored.
I will take you
and
begin the battle
with the stone lion brothers whom roared,
the Flames will soar,
and so it will end
In Lead hate.

Aphrodite, the promise as her bait,
to follow the thread of Fate
as even She should
with Anchises, father of the beginner of the Empire, Trojan warrior, he who made Her mortal,
Aphrodite's bane,
Her Fate,
Her Love,
Her Life.

Ex 5th/2nd

line 2 Aphrodite was one of the three goddesses involved in the judgement of Paris, she won the golden apple.
line 5 the battle of Troy
line 6 the two brothers, Agamemnon and Menelaus (Helen's husband) Agamemnon inherited the family palace at Mycenae, over whose door is the carving of two lions. (the lion gate)
line 7 Troy was burnt when it was captured by the Greeks.
line 2-4 Aphrodite is fated (by her father Zeus) to love a mortal
line 4 Anchises is all of the things (the Empire being that of Rome)

The Journey

This one is a bit more like my usual complicated, crazy, hard to understand (especially for me) stuff. Its just from watching the outside whizz past in the car.

The Journey

The broken becomes a continuous stream,
leaves, twigs, branches
the years debris
merges into one
constant stream.
Life.
The further things are constant
the horizon is still
through the glass,
teardrops of water
collect on the speeding
windows lip.

The horizon stays constant,
still, the dizzying,
exciting, breathtalingly fast, pass,
leaves, twigs, branches
as debris of my life,
yet the straight,
safe, sturdy.
Stands, shifts, only slightly,
with me.
Let it pass.
Ex

Fallen

Freedom. Will not you bring solace?
To a heart, yet unwarmed,
cold as ice.
Or bring quality to loneliness?
If never felt, never touched upon
what could be.. What dreams, can be..
Then there is quality in loneliness,
solace in freedom.
However, if you are falling from dreams,
so as your fabricated life, ends,
it breaks at the seams.

Ex 2nd 10th

The friend

It was my friends birthday so i tried to write her a happy friendly poem. And this is what i got -_- Its a lot more lovey and sounds alot like the person has left me, gone to university, or died ..
      

In times to come
when i lie on pastures green,
will you lie with me?
Though unseen.
In times to come
when i look to the sky,
will you look with me?
at every ray and beam.
In times to come
you will be with me
walk with me,
lie with me,
see with me,
even though
you are not with me,
you are far away,
we will be as one.
Because, my friend,
who we are,
is what we become,
and you and i, my friend
we are so similar, that,
our minds, hearts,
are not yet done.

Ex 12/9

Not what it was

Though this sounds quite depressing, it wasn't meant to, its meant to sound quite uplifting and applaud the need for love... but yeahhh it didnt turn out too positive.. Well the way you look at it will change the way you think of it, take 'I no longer want for this' for example, that sentance is meant to relate to the last cluster of sentances and say i don't want for love anymore, because i have it, NOT i no longer want for love, because i had it and frankly it wasnt great. but anyway, you choose how to interpret it.

There is my love
I see
my life, my death,
my days, my nights,
In them,
one person, whom stole my life.
unknowingly thieved me.
No strife,
no sadness,
no fear.
Like what i felt
before.
and no sights,
no scenes
no beauty.
Like what i'd ever seen
before.

I no longer want for this.

Take it from me
and i will live a half-life
which i had before,
but now it is not
what it was,
this can no longer be,
what it was.

Ex 10/9

The Folley

Standing, desolate
the building lies,
sleeping, undisturbed
under the everchanging skies.
The people who have been past,
their life, their being dies,
but the chapel, remembers them,
quiet, listening,
still it stands.

Visitors gaze, question
it's existance
each of its days, and
how it achieved
this state, disrepair,
silence,
but beautiful and ever listening,
keeping and making,
steeping and shrouding,
secrets, the secrets
of their past,
its present,
the future.
It will nurture
and keep alive.

Ex 10/8th

The folk song

Just come back from stewarding a couple of days at a folk week, I love the music so much, and the atmosphere is so strange and lively.

The folk song

I can not sing like you.
Can not play like you,
but let me listen,
because when I do,
I can hear a thousand voices,
singing to me alone,
I hear emotion,
I hear of ancient love,
I hear of ancient sadness,
It teaches me something about everything,
and everyone.

Ex 24/8

Listen to 'lemon tree' by peter, paul and mary

whispered words

They hang between us in the air
but neither of us gave them life.
Theres a red viel for us to share
but in the way is a wall, of fear, of strife.

We have to trust we feel the same,
that when the words come alive,
we'll both breathe into them, in no feign.
and to keep them living, we must promise to strive.

You could always turn and walk away,
theres always a risk, our love will turn grey,
if i say the words, neither of us can say,
Then, i'll be too afraid to beg you to stay.

Ex

-EJ

The Story of the Blind Man

At birth, his eyes weren't open
but his mind was introduced to a whole new world,
he lived as if he hadn't been robbed of a important token,
he lived, and to him new things unfurled.

He stood for hours and listened
to things we never hear,
he couldn't see your faces but he knew you through and through,
he didnt need to stand near.

he never saw the colour,
of natures million hues
but the way in which he could discover,
noone ever knew.

He understood everything,
took his loss in his stride,
of the senses he had, he was the king.
Everyone, of him should hold a high pride.

Ex

-EJ

The Personification of The Lost Love

Theres a woman in the corner,
A pink eerie mist creeps around her feet.
Theres a atmosphere of knowledge.
As if to this she is no foreigner.
Her eyes observe.

Her Skin is pale, white and young,
her lips are swollen, red, stark against her icy skin.
Her broken harp, now half strung.
Noone is watching.

She holds the instrument carefully.
She cradles it with her arm,
she shakes slightly, fearfully,
Her eyes remembering.

The garment she wears is perfect,
the dress and viel, simple, white and pure,
The gash across her chest its only defect.
She stares you down.

Her hair is long and greasy,
her posture, cowering and defeated,
her eyes lowered, her gait uneasy.
The others are watching.

The corner is empty,
of happiness and hope,
the image of opposites,
it holds plenty,
but I'm not there to help you cope.

Restring my harp's grace,
lift up my viel,
and look upon an empty space.

Ex

-EJ

Better To Have Loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.

Just thinking about that saying. It really depends on where you are in a relationship :').

The red hot Sun shines through, the broken blinds of my heart,
each ray a spear, a pain, a truth.
Leaving me trying to heal, yet another timeless scar.

Will I learn from pain, or willingly unprotect my heart,
And throw open my arms for it again.
I felt your love. I'm a lucky one. Or is that saying a simple feign?

Ex

- EJ