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Ceyx And Alcione V

'So, my husband, you are dead, ' she whispered before sleep finally came, 'then, so am I.'

The next day she told her family about the dream. She didn't look well. Her hair was uncharacteristically uncombed, her clothes in disarray. They listened respectfully but glanced at each other meaningfully. Mad, poor girl.

'Mad with grief, ' they nodded.'No surprise, after what she's been through.' They did nothing, but resolved to keep an eye on her.

The next day Alcione went for a long walk. She soon came to the port the boat bearing her husband to Delphi had left from. Staring numbly out to sea, she watched the waves rise and fall, beating a ceaseless path shoreward. Then she spotted a loggy form she first thought was a large fish, then a dolphin. It slid upside the crest of one wave then down into the trough of another, working its way slowly her way. After a bit she recognized the fish-nibbled, blue jello-clad form of Ceyx. Horrified but enchanted, she watched, shielding her eyes from the sun.

'My husband, ' she sobbed, leaping into the waves and covering the form with her form. 'You have kept your promise. You have come back.'

The people (who only saw a log) were mystified, and no less so by what happened next-which proved the existence of the Gods to even the most committed skeptic. Seen by all, the fingers of her hands became long feathers. Likewise, her arms became wings. As her body lightened, she felt it borne up by the breeze. The rolling form of her husband underwent a similar change, sprouting feathers and wings. It, too, livening, was lifted, and together they found themselves coasting over the waves toward the sun, which was still morning low, seabirds together. Forever.

Her voice became a mere, shrill cry, but not before she uttered these ultimate words:

'Winds, be still, and forever be still, these late summer days, in observance of our love.'

And they were. For seven whole days at summer's end. And they still are.

poem by Morgan Michaels
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Ceyx And Alcione lV

Poor Alcione was sick with grief and couldn't sleep or eat, which was partly ok because she felt she was getting fat. But the insomnia was tough. Night after night she lay awake, praying. She fasted, lit candles and burned certain leaves that she bought off a witch. In those days they didn't have email or even telephones, which was fine in many ways. The queen of the Gods, Juno, heard her. Unable to bear it any longer (Ceyx being dead) she said to her secretary:

'Iris, this has got to stop. The poor girl. Quick, a dream. Tell her the truth-her husband sleeps with the fishes. And be quick, please.'

'Yes, M'am, ' replied Iris, sulkily. She was young and very pretty and had better things to do with her time than run messages for Juno, but she didn't complain and started off for the house of Alcione with a starfish-shaped dream in her pocketbook.

'Why me, ' she sighed, under her breath, as she left. On the way she stopped in Arizona to pick up Sleep, who having spent the last ten years dozing on his right side, had recently shifted to his left.

That night Alcione had-what else-a dream. She dreamed she was lying on the dark sea floor, the weight of all the waves oppressing her chest. When she woke she spotted Sleep at the foot of the bed. He had taken the shape of her drowned husband. He didn't look so good. Seawater oozed from every pore, like a sponge. Algaes and sea-lilies tangled in his hair. An eel coiled its heavy lenghs around his shoulders and neck. He was completely naked, having shed his clothes when the ship began to sink. He stood in a rapidly growing puddle of brine and when he first opened his mouth to speak, out came a stream of minnows. Her heart was seized with pity and terror. Over her prostrate form he leaned and said:

'My dearest Alcione, my own, I am dead and beyond your unavailing tears. I will never come back. In my triall I thought only of you. The last word of my lips was your name.

With that she knew he was dead. The next day....

poem by Morgan Michaels
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A Husband...

A husband should be
Loyal and honest
A husband should be
Strong and protective

A husband should be
Loving and romantic
A husband should be
Patient and understanding

A husband should know
When enough is enough
A husband should know
When to fight and when to cry

A husband should know
all your goals and dreams
A husband should know
your strengths and well as your weaknesses

A husband needs to be a true man
A husband needs to love you unconditionally
A husband needs to know your heart is forever his

poem by Sarah Holmes
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Where It Was At Back Then

Husband,
last night I dreamt
they cut off your hands and feet.
Husband,
you whispered to me,
Now we are both incomplete.

Husband,
I held all four
in my arms like sons and daughters.
Husband,
I bent slowly down
and washed them in magical waters.

Husband,
I placed each one
where it belonged on you.
'A miracle,'
you said and we laughed
the laugh of the well-to-do.

poem by Anne Sexton
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The Personal Trainer

husband
didn't pay attention when she started to change her look,
after all, she'd been saying how she wanted to for a while &
it seemed to make sense,
what with her going back to the gym full time,
after a period of time away
when they first had been married-
husband just went about his days
working more hours than he knew what to do with,
business was good &
with all the business around him seeming to fail,
he'd been putting away for the life he imagined in the future,
with or without
her-
but her time spent at the gym seemed to increase &
thought her body began to get trimmer, sexier, tighter, stronger &
she seemed to walk around the house with a new zest for life
(when he was there to see her) ,
he still didn't notice that
the personal trainer had moved in-
she had said something to him,
but he was listening less & less
as he had more & more to worry about at work,
for it was all part of building his empire.

the personal trainer was a less successful man
by the standard that money can by,
but he listened to her
as he traced her curves with his fingers in the gym
with palms of his hand smoothly gliding over her muscles
making her body quiver &
it wasn't long before in the car outside the gym
they consummated the professional relationship
again &
again &
again &
again.

as she began to show less interest in sex with her husband,
he wrote it off as a side-effect of marriage &
found himself a main squeeze on the side,
a 20 something who needed money to get her through college
with a perkiness that made him feel young again &
a body that wouldn't quit-
as he grew more distant from the wife,
she grew closer to the personal trainer,
until the day when she brought him home to the house,
when she swore the husband would be gone.

husband found out the way a husband will
when husband had been no longer interested
until another shows his face, as it is only jealousy then
which kicks in, making husband suddenly care-
but personal trainer put husband on the ground
when husband came into his own bedroom
to find personal trainer banging away his bride
who now had no interest in husband-
husband sued the personal trainer for assault &
bride to be divorced husband, taking half of everything he had,
breaking his empire down to nothing
as he had been stupid enough to not require a prenup
at the beginning of it all.

poem by Andrew Delapruch
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Husband Where Are You?

Can you feel the music play? I think about you everyday, husband of mine where are you?

I see you arms around me as, your growing love surrounds me, can you feel it to, husband where are you?

There music in my heart, I don’t know just where to start, the universe has told me my love about you. Husband of mine, when we meet our eye’s won’t turn and our hearts will forever yearn, letting us know we are for each other.

I waited all so long, met the one’s that were all wrong, husband of mine I know your coming for me.

I see your eye’s! I see you smiling! When we make love it all our hearts yearning.

Husband of mine, please come for me I know it time for us to meet, I can even smell the smells around you.. We read the same books yeah, the sprit of the universe surrounds me, the sprit of the universe surrounds you.

The day we meet you will say, I waited day after day, for the softness of your beauty.

Husband of mine you finally found me, Husband of mine your love surrounds me.

poem by Ivy Saldana
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Pantheism

Gandhi who preached
and practised non-violence
is a god to worship.
A god is in the form
of a banyan tree
lulling to sleep
all the tired beings
in its cool shades.
The dog feeding
the motherless kittens,
is the god rare to find.

The sweet spring
bursting in a desert,
the Sun giving light,
the waves causing winds,
the river watering and
fertilising the lands,
the trees yielding fruits,
the honest politician,
the doctor with conscience,
the farmer working hard,
the umpire impartial,
the cobra playing with kids,
the woman kind to her
husband's kin and the Creator
of all these living things
are gods, gods and gods.

poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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The Boat and The Sea

I will tell you, my Dear
Story of the Boat and the Sea

'Since the unknown time
The Boat heard the call from the Sea
Wings of Gull, blue waves
Took Boat traveled everywhere, all ways

The Boat's soul's filled with hopes
And the Sea's boundless love
Boat went far, further no tiresome
The Sea was still far...so far

Those nights the moon was gentle
The sea was like a girl, who's little
She whispered, she sent her thoughts
Round the boatside, waves elapsed

Sometimes, causeless
The Sea, its waves, pourred impetuously in the Boat
(Because of Love, for all times, ever was just imovable?)

Only the Boat understood
How boundless the Sea was
Only the Boat knew
Where the Boat went to, back to

The days without meeting
The sea was with white head, with missing
The days without gathering
The Boat was broken - crack
If already seperated from the Boat
The Sea only remained the wind and waves
...up and down, a craze'

If having to be separated from you
I just only remain storms

(composer: Xuân Quỳ nh, traslator: Hanh My Nguyen)

poem by Hanh My Nguyen
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The Feeling of Sleep

As I lay here in bed
The only thing I dread
Is when I wake up tomorrow
And wish for the feeling of sleep

As I finally rest form my long days of work
There is no more ache in my legs
As I lay in my cloud bed
I rest my head on nothing but air
As I drift in to sleep
It feels like happiness is in the air

I can’t feel my body
As I can only dream good dreams
For I love the feeling of sleep
As sleep hit its highest point
I’m no longer responsive
For this is the feeling of sleep

As I descend form my sleep
The ache comes back
as if I never fell asleep
seven hours has pass
but it felt like one hour

this the one thing
that I long for
and that is the feeling of sleep
Poem Writer,
By: Jackie Thielman

poem by Jackie Thielman
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Not Forever

Not forever, Amelia said,
Just as long as I can find a way
Through this circus of life.
She knew her husband wasn’t listening,
He never did, he just sat in front
Of the TV sipping his beer
And smoking his cigar, laughing
Now and then at some joke
On the programme, and she’d repeat,
I won’t be here forever, you know,
Just so long as I think it’s worth
The ride through this two-bit existence.
You see that, her husband said,
You see the way that guy did that trick?
Huh? He sipped more beer. Amelia stood
Over him as he sat and she watched
The TV screen, tried to fathom what
Made him laugh so, what it was that
Made him laugh so loudly. Hey, look
At that guy’s face, Honey, look at that
Darn face. And he’d laugh aloud again
And she watched as his head rose and fell
As he laughed, and she wondered how long
Forever was, and how long the circus
Was in town, and how long she’d get for
Bringing the cold iron down hard upon
His head, but she just tapped his shoulder
Gently with her soft cold hand instead.

poem by Terry Collett
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Ceyx And Alcione lll

So she worried-really worried-when Ceyx announced at breakfast one morning his intention of going on a sea voyage. It made no difference that he was going to Delphi on business. She worried because she loved him dearly, and, better than him, knew the power of the winds, before which taverns collapsed and chairs, cats, small children flew through the air like birds.
'No! '
'Honey, I must! I will! Delphi is definitely on my agenda. Frankly, it could make a big difference in our life style'.
'Absolutely not. I have a bad feeling about this one, trust me'.
'I'm going'.
'Then I'm going, too.'
'Forget it.'
Yes, no, etcetera...back and forth-it would make your head spin.
Finally she said 'ok.go'
The day of departure dawned. The ship was ready. Ceyx boarded and turned to bid his wife goodbye. She could barely look at him. Did she know what was to come? Maybe yes, maybe no.
'Don't worry, honey, it's only for a while. I'll come back to you- promise.
Maybe yes, maybe no. And the ship disappeared over the horizon, its sails filled with gentle winds. But this was before the days of radar,
weather forecasts and hurricane warnings, so the sailors could scarcely anticipate foul weather such as befell them next morning. Sure enough, a storm blew up, worse than any Alcione could imagine, spinning and capsizing the ship in a furor of ill-winds. In a short time the ship was in pieces and its hands walking the undersea currents. Ceyx himself was pulled under. His last word, as the wave crashed over his head was 'Alcione'. His fate was the dread of all mortals-to remain unburied in the sight of the gods, without even so much as an oar planted in the sand to mark the spot where the ship's carcass was cast ashore.

poem by Morgan Michaels
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Prayer Of An Unborn Child

Oh Lord, when a husband and wife
in love yearned for each other
I was roused out of undetermined rest
and on a day
placed into this dark place to take form
and they do wait
that I appear in a world of decay,
somewhere in Your great unlimited universe.

You who form all things from the beginning,
who also knows everything,
I ask that where You measure out
the punishment of life to me
that You will in great love always stay with us
that You will forget the sins
that we make here as mere humans,
that You touch my parents with great joy.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Ocean

Here comes the ocean
And the waves down by the sea
Here comes the ocean
And the waves where have they been
Silver and black lit night, heres to a stealers night
An empty splendid castle
Glowering alone at night, the princess has had a fight
Madness seeks out a lover
And here come the waves
Down by the shore
Washing the soul of the body
That comes form the depth of the sea
Here comes the ocean
And the waves down by the sea
Here comes the ocean
And the waves where have they been
Dont swim tonight my love, the tide is out my love
Malcolms curse haunts our family
Odious loud and rich, ruler of filthy seas
Revel in heavens justice
And here come the waves
And save for a scream
Theres much like a song to be heard
In the wind that blows by the sea
Like the wind
Here come the waves
Here come the waves
Here come the waves
Here come the waves

song performed by by Velvet Underground
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Husband.

Husband is someone;
You spend most of your life with.
And with him;
You are for years.

My life has become strong;
For my husband is not wrong.
My life has become independent;
For my husband never let me dependent.
My life has become pure;
For my husband had every cure.
My life has become romantic;
For my husband is very aromatic.
My life had a new beginning;
For my husband was nearing.

And the most valuable gift-
My husband has given me;
Are my 2 wonderful and the best kids-
And I thank God,
For the wonderful family he has given me.

poem by Anju Addanki
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My Husband

It is true:
My husband
has never
taken out
the garbage
from our little house
in the suburbs.

My husband
has never
taken our children
out for the night
to trick-or-treating
as I sit
on the porch in a witch hat.

My husband
has never
come home from
a long day
to a special meal
I have prepared
just for him.

My husband
has never
told me he loves me
beside a warm fire
on our honeymoon.

But he will.

poem by Erica Francis
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Togetherness Is Gone

My wife,
Stop cleaning the house
Please come here
To accompany me

My husband,
The house is dirty
We aren't able to pay the maid
You've already retired

My wife,
Don't cook
It's a holiday
Let us eat outside the home

My husband,
Don't eat outdoors
We need efficient
You've already retired

My wife,
Let's keep me company
Why the rush to sleep
It's still early

My husband,
I have to get up early
To clean the house
And prepare breakfast

My wife,
I have to go this morning
My friends were waiting
Long we don't meet

My husband,
Be careful on the road
Greetings for your friends
But, why not breakfast?

My wife,
You have fallen asleep last night
I see you sleeping soundly all
I don't have the heart to wake you

My husband,
I'm sorry
I don't welcome you home
But, why should sleep on the sofa?

My wife,
I have to go again
I have social activities
With my old friends

My husband,
Don't forget dinner at home
You look very dapper
Although not wear perfume

My wife,
sorry, we were very busy
I had dinner with friends
Happy dinner, dear

My husband,
I woke up too early
But you're not at home
Where are you?

My wife,
I came home at midnight
I have to go early in the morning
I don't have the heart to wake you

My husband,
I just finished washing clothes
I've found the clothes that you wear today
But, why the smell of perfume?

poem by Hasanudin Sofyan
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Sappho

The twilight falls; I soften the dusting feathers,
And clean again.
The house has lain and moldered for three days.
The windows smeared with rain, the curtains torn,
The mice come in,
The kitchen blown with cold.

I keep the house, and say no words.

It is true I am as twisted as the cactus
That gnarls and turns beside the milky light,
That cuts the fingers easily and means nothing,
For all the pain that shoots along the hand.
I dust the feathers down the yellow thorns,
I light the stove.

The gas curls round the iron fretwork. the flame
Floats above the lace,
And bounces like a dancer stayed on air.
Fire does not rest on iron, it drifts like a blue blossom
And catches on my breath;
Coiling, spinning, the blue foam of the gas fire
Writhes like a naked girl;
Turns up its face, like her.

She came to me in rain.
I did not know her, I did not know my name
After she left to bed her children down,
To phone her husband they were gone asleep.
And she, lying, a pure fire, in the feathers,
Dancing above the ironwork of her bed,
Roaring, and singeing nothing.
She had not wound her arms about me then,
She had not dared.
I only took her coat, and smiled to hear
How she had left her purse and her umbrella
In the theater, how she was sopping cold

With the fall rain; and mine was the one light
In the neighborhood. She came to my gas fire
And lay before it, sprawled, her pure bare shoulders
Folded in a doze, a clear, cold curve of stone.

I only leaned above the hair,
Turned back the quilt, arranged the feet, the arms,
And kissed the sleeping shoulder, lightly, like the rain;
And when she woke to wear her weathered clothes,
I sent her home.
She floated, a blue blossom, over the street.

And when she came again,
It was not long before she turned to me,
And let her shawl slide down her neck and shoulder,
Let her hair fall.
And when she came again,
It did not rain.

Her husband came to pluck her like an apple,
As the drunken farmer lurches against the tree,
Grips the green globe not long beyond its bloom,
And tears the skin, brutally, out of the bark,
Leaves the whole bough broken,
The orchard torn with many footprints,
The fence swung wide
On a raw hinge.

And now it is said of me
That my love is nothing because I have borne no children,
Or because I have fathered none;
That I twisted the twig in my hands
And cut the blossom free too soon from the seed;
That I lay across the fire,
And snuffed it dead sooner than draft or rain.

But I have turned away, and drawn myself
Upright to walk along the room alone.
Across the dark the spines of cactus plants
Remind me how I go—aloof, obscure,
Indifferent to the words the children chalk
Against my house and down the garden walls.
They cannot tear the garden out of me,
Nor smear my love with names. Love is a cliff,
A clear, cold curve of stone, mottled by stars,
smirched by the morning, carved by the dark sea
Till stars and dawn and waves can slash no more,
Till the rock’s heart is found and shaped again.

I keep the house and say no words, the evening
Falls like a petal down the shawl of trees.
I light the fire and see the blossom dance
On air alone; I will not douse that flame,
That searing flower; I will burn in it.
I will not banish love to empty rain.

For I know that I am asked to hate myself
For their sweet sake
Who sow the world with child.
I am given to burn on the dark fire they make
With their sly voices.

But I have burned already down to bone.
There is a fire that burns beyond the names
Of sludge and filth of which this world is made.
Agony sears the dark flesh of the body,
And lifts me higher than the smoke, to rise
Above the earth, above the sacrifice;
Until my soul flares outward like a blue
Blossom of gas fire dancing in mid-air:
Free of the body’s work of twisted iron.

poem by James Arlington Wright
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The Gorilla and his beloved wife

This man was certainly fed up with the life and roamed like a stray dog.
One day he found in the Zoo the gorilla's cage is vacant.
Since that day he lived in the cage happily.
On a sunny Sunday he saw his wife came towards the cage.
'Oh! You resemble my so loved husband and he was disappeared a long time ago.' wife said.
She witnessed the gorilla cried and she gave him her handkerchief.
On her way back home she had a facial as she knows her husband would be at home soon.

* I heard that he says; 'We the people, in order to form a more perfect union.' Good luck to the land of opportunity! And guess who comes to the dinner with a gift of real democracy.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Only For Me

Down the end of this barroom,
Out of sight of the light in the window
His mind in his whiskey
And his body in a folding chair
Far beyond repair
I enter his vision
He watches me look for my seat
He makes his decision
And he stands to his feet
Lord, its a long way down
It happened to me
Wonderful sight
Only for me
Only for you
It happened to be a light shining through
Form one who was lost and found
Just like me and you
Old man says, young man, my youre looking
Pretty green
Like a stranger to this kind of place
Come sit at my table
Come and look into my face
Ive got a story to tell.
There was a father and son
But that was a long time ago
And when the time came to run
I just couldnt say no
So I left them behind.
It happened to me
Wonderful sight
Only for me
Only for you
It happened to be a light shining through
Form one who was lost and found
Just like me and you
We have seen it before
In times of great sorrow
That human compassion will flow from a well
That has long run dry
It happened to me
Wonderful sight
Only for me
Only for you
It happened to be a light shining through
Form one who was lost and found
Just like me and you

song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Enchanted Wood (Part 4)

All eyes turned towards the back
as the bride made her entrance.
Six small bluebirds held
up her long flowing train
as she moved down the centre isle
towards her husband to be.
Standing side by side,
they took their weddings vows
and when they were pronounced,
man and wife a great cheer rang out
that could be heard across the land.

They rode back through the throngs
of well-wishers who lined the route.
Everywhere everyone was smiling
for the happy couple.
It was a joyous occasion
celebrated by everyone
and all the creatures everywhere.
Arriving back at the castle
an old man with a long white beard
waited there to greet them.

He smiled as they moved towards him.
He first kissed the Princess
and whispered a few words in her ear
and she left them as the old man
took her husband to one side.
Putting his arm around his shoulders
lead him to a quiet area
where they both could talk.
“Do you want to go back? ” The old man asked.
“No sir, I do not.

The old man nodded.
“Then you shall stay here forever
with the happiness you have found.”
“But I am cursed, sir.”
The old man smiled and shook his head.
“You were never cursed.
You came here because you were lonely.
Only sad and lonely people
ever enter the enchanted wood.”
“But I don’t understand.”
Only love prevents the others entering
and you had none, but a lot to give.”

“You now have all your wishes
and all your dreams here.
For the first time in your life,
you have friends, someone to love,
and a world as big as you want it
to roam and explore.
Now go to your wife and enjoy your life
the way you always wanted it.”
The old man smiled and then vanished.
He went to his wife
and gathered her in his arms.
They walked to the top of the castle.
Standing together, they looked out
across the enchanted wood and the land beyond it.

Like the curse said
he never went back,
nor did he want to.
He now lives happily in the world
of his wishes and dreams
with his Princess and his friends.
One day in your dreams,
you might catch a glimpse
of him with his Princess
happy together forever.

The End

poem by David Harris
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Her Sea Tale

Her tale is really a very unhappy one
She married a Captain hoping to have fun
She wanted to discover the world with him
Instead of which she only saw the ocean
For he always made sure that
She stayed back on board at every port

In sheer desperation she took a decision
At one such port she stealthily disembarked
And hid herself in an empty warehouse
Just before the ship was set to sail
She watched her husband on the deck
Talking animatedly to a fellow crew member

He was totally unaware that she was ashore
As the vessel sailed she waved it goodbye
Remaining riveted to her hiding spot
Until it was completely out of sight
That was the last she hoped to see of him
Her ex-husband the mean and captain

A sense of peace thencame over her
The worst was finally coming to an end
No longer would she in lonliness whinge
Every time her husband went on a Binge,
Leaving her to her own devices
While he indulged himself and his vices

Now she hopes to lead a more normal life
At the port, taking up odd jobs to support herself
While continuously hoping always that her husband
Will never return to claim her back
So that she can enjoy her new found freedom
And be relieved from a lifetime of boredom

poem by Sandra Martyres
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