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Charlotte

I never was
a particularly spiritual person
until the day
I saw your raven
ebony shimmering
wings
unfold in my hands
and you took flight
never to
return

poem by Fiona Eris Strand
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Together In Isolation

the accidental lack of concern
strikes me so deep for
i feel instinctually
as close to you as to i
waving frantically with my eyes
seeing your blank looks into space
closed into yourself
in isolation of yourself
i become lost in reference

poem by Eris Stimmung
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Ausonius Epig

AUSONIUS EPIG.

Emptis quod libris tibi bibliotheca referta est,
Doctum et grammaticum te, philomuse, putas.
Quinetiam cytharas, chordas et barbita conde:
Mercator hodie, cras citharoedus, eris.

IN ENGLISH.

Because with bought books, sir, your study's fraught,
A learned grammarian you would fain be thought;
Nay then, buy lutes and strings; so you may play
The merchant now, the fidler, the next day.

poem by Richard Lovelace
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Clio's Sieve

How fine the mesh of Clio's sieve!
How deft; sifting teeming epoch
To one parchment, in it to live
Distilled, a lost world in one book.
An epic lives in one last line
Of plucked hexameter, to stand
For seven thousand not so fine.
The remnant Library fills one hand,
One scroll immortal of millions
Dust and ash. Or is it Eris,
Random goddess, her selections
That we pore over and caress?
Our faith is, we've the gold, not dross;
We could not else bear feel the loss.

poem by Mark Sauer
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Honor To Woman

Honor to woman! To her it is given
To garden the earth with the roses of heaven!
All blessed, she linketh the loves in their choir
In the veil of the graces her beauty concealing,
She tends on each altar that's hallowed to feeling,
And keeps ever-living the fire!

From the bounds of truth careering,
Man's strong spirit wildly sweeps,
With each hasty impulse veering
Down to passion's troubled deeps.
And his heart, contented never,
Greeds to grapple with the far,
Chasing his own dream forever,
On through many a distant star!
But woman with looks that can charm and enchain,
Lureth back at her beck the wild truant again,
By the spell of her presence beguiled--
In the home of the mother her modest abode,
And modest the manners by Nature bestowed

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poem by Friedrich Schiller
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Archer

[concrete/shaped piece- formatting not retained]

In her sights:
the core of nothing made perfect
Erogenous Eris’ golden apple crown
collecting my senses
I am drawn
to fix the unveiling
volatile inviolate

And you’re raising your knees
with painted feather-nails
calling claiming commanding
brushing my quivering quill
stroking swelling
ardor aching
- you are TAKING
me:
pushing pulling

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poem by Randy Resh
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Helen of Troy

A mythological beauty, she had been;
A legendary beauty, she had grown.
Who is it other than Helen of Troy,
The epitome of seductive beauty?

A symbol of man’s erotic desires,
From the other women, Helen differs
In that she never employed her charms
To gain power of self-aggrandizement.

Her era dates back to fifth century B.C.
The fairest of women had been the one
Whom all women should hate and yet envy,
And all men should fear and yet desire.

No wonder, men were captive of her charm,
But not was she captive of any man..
She had admirers; none did she admire.
Her fairness deserved more than what she got.

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poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Cassandra

Mirth the halls of Troy was filling,
Ere its lofty ramparts fell;
From the golden lute so thrilling
Hymns of joy were heard to swell.
From the sad and tearful slaughter
All had laid their arms aside,
For Pelides Priam's daughter
Claimed then as his own fair bride.

Laurel branches with them bearing,
Troop on troop in bright array
To the temples were repairing,
Owning Thymbrius' sovereign sway.
Through the streets, with frantic measure,
Danced the bacchanal mad round,
And, amid the radiant pleasure,
Only one sad breast was found.

Joyless in the midst of gladness,
None to heed her, none to love,

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poem by Friedrich Schiller
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Jerusalem

Standing on the empty bridge
Watching rivers waves go by
Feeling mellow, lighting a cigarette
Silver moon floats through the night
Eris, princess of the isles, disperse your
Sparkling trace
Lead me on to the house of love
Where the gods may turn his eyes
To jerusalem we pray, its time to meet you
There
Lets take love to jerusalem, oh yeah
Lets take love
You might be the one Im waiting for, i
Think weve met somewhere for sure
Chasing shadows leaves you feeling blue
This situation needs a cure
New assassins, new messiahs, keepers of the
Balanced law
Strangest lovers of the fire which ignates
The halo of our souls

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song performed by Alphaville
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 04

' Cesseth!' seide the Kyng, ' I suffre yow no lenger.
Ye shul saughtne, forsothe, and serve me bothe.
Kis hire,' quod the Kyng, 'Conscience, I hote!'
' Nay, by Crist!' quod Conscience, ' congeye me rather!
But Reson rede me therto, rather wol I deye.'
'And I comaunde thee,' quod the Kyng to Conseience thanne,
'Rape thee to ryde, and Reson that thow fecche.
Comaunde hym that he come my counseil to here,
For he shal rule my reaume and rede me the beste
Mede and of mo othere, what man shal hire wedde,

And acounte with thee, Conscience, so me Crist helpe,
How thow lernest the peple, the lered and the lewed!'
'I am fayn of that foreward,' seide the freke thanne,
And ryt right to Reson and rouneth in his ere,
And seide hym as the Kyng seide, and sithen took his leve.
'I shal arraye me to ryde,' quod Reson,-reste thee a while,'
And called Caton his knave, curteis of speche,
And also Tomme Trewe-tonge-tel-me-no-tales
Ne lesynge-to-laughen-of-for-I-loved-hem-nevere.

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poem by William Langland
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