PEGASUS and BELLEROPHONTE
His Creator was Sea God Poseidon
This winged-horse Pegasus demigod
Spiral horn on forehead his talisman
The Gods of Mt Olympus were awed
Pegasus delivered lightning bolts
When Zeus warred against men
When He put down their revolts
Men are prone to sin now n’ then
One day while drinking from a spring
Hero Bellerophonte captured Pegasus
As hero mounted, with deep voice did sing
“I’m coming for you Chimera”
Then tested flying horse flight n’agileness
They flew afar to slay a hideous monster…
Possessed of lion’s head, goat’s body, serpent’s tail
Whose breath could melt a fighting soldier’s armor
Confidently, astride Pegasus the hero could not fail
From high above they saw the ugly beast
As she wreaked death n’ havoc on the land
Into a downward dive, their speed increased
“The clash of the titans” was at hand
Bellerophonte drew a sword, the monster did behead
Pegasus hoofed Chimera, ensured she was dead
They placed the monster’s head in a basket
Then set off for Mt Olympus far away
At the “Golden gate” the two were met
Welcomed by gods and demigods that day
Heroes come in all shapes n’ sizes
Who justly deserve accolades ‘n prizes
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Related quotes
Pegasus
(clarke / hicks / nash)
Follow me, follow, see what you see.
Ill take somewhere where youve never been.
High on a mountain, deep down in the sea,
To faraway lands, you can travel with me.
Im pegasus, the flying horse.
Im pegasus, the flying horse.
Ride on my back and hold onto my wings
Ill take you by night to a time-leaping dream.
Time has no value where were going to
People are happy; there, theyre never blue.
Chorus
This can only happen to you
If you keep our secret.
Dont tell anyone about our magic horse.
You can go where you want, I can take you anywhere.
Because Im pegasus, the flying horse.
Im pegasus, the flying horse.
Chorus
Verse 1
Chorus
Im pegasus, the flying horse.
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pegasus
(olivia newton-john)
There you were in my dream
Flying high just for me
Oh pegasus oh pegasus
White and strong soft and warm
Youve been in my mind so long
Oh pegasus oh pegasus
Where do you come from?
Where have you been?
Where will you go oh?
Ill call for you whenever I need you
Will you take me on your back and fly away?
Will you teach me why Im here and lead the way?
Oh pegasus
Spread your wings Ill climb on
Well explore the stars youre from
Oh pegasus oh pegasus
Youre a myth born of light
Sent to heal my world tonight
Oh pegasus oh pegasus
There you were in my dream
Flying high just for me
Oh pegasus oh pegasus
White and strong soft and warm
Youve been in my mind so long
Oh pegasus oh pegasus
Through all time youll live on
A gift to earth from dark till dawn
Oh pegasus oh pegasus
Creation of magic you live in my heart
Your spirit will guide me though were dimensions apart
There you were in my dream
Flying high just for me
Oh pegasus oh pegasus
Through all time youll live on
A gift to earth from dark till dawn
Oh pegasus
(repeats)
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wish Horse
My mother told me,
Of a lovely horse.
That will come to you if you want to see,
It galloping though the night.
It might be a lovely winged Pegasus,
Gliding from moon to star.
Or it could be a circus horse,
Its head held up high.
It could be an Arabian beauty,
Its feet in the desert sand.
It might be a brumby,
Just for me.
A carthorse, a Shetland,
Or rocking horse.
It could be,
Any thing you want it to be.
For the choice is not up to me,
So what will it be?
You can decide,
For it is not my mind to find
poem by Mandy Jane
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The Oubit
It was an hairy oubit, sae proud he crept alang,
A feckless hairy oubit, and merrily he sang-
'My Minnie bad me bide at hame until I won my wings;
I show her soon my soul's aboon the warks o' creeping things.'
This feckless hairy oubit cam' hirpling by the linn,
A swirl o' wind cam' doun the glen, and blew that oubit in:
Oh when he took the water, the saumon fry they rose,
And tigg'd him a' to pieces sma', by head and tail and toes.
Tak' warning then, young poets a', by this poor oubit's shame;
Though Pegasus may nicher loud, keep Pegasus at hame.
Oh haud your hands frae inkhorns, though a' the Muses woo;
For critics lie, like saumon fry, to mak' their meals o' you.
Eversley, 1851.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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Pegasus
This song was first released on the spirit album. it is the only album it has been released on.
Peaceful valleys, animals and children asking me
Tell the story that you told of sailors drinking tea
Tell the one about the man who saddled up the wind
Pegasus and flying fish and woodsmen made of tin
A kid knows what he wants to be before hes nine or ten
Cowboys, clowns, and men of war and someone elses friend
But nine grows into big boys pants and then to scars and pain
Twentys fast and hard as nails but doesnt come again
Theres days to fall and days to rise and days for making haste
Days for seeking out yourself but no days you can waste
Nighttimes filled with love so good it aches to rest it down
Endless hallways dark with sleep and rivers dark with sound
Peaceful valleys, animals and children asking me
Tell the story that you told of sailors drinking tea
Tell the one about the man who saddled up the wind
Pegasus and flying fish and woodsmen made of tin
Children climbing on my arms and pigeons on my head
Get thee up my little man and dream a dream instead
Dream a dream of rocking chairs and flying through the night
Dream until the mornings gone and turned the dark to light
Then come and get your daddy if he hasnt blown away
Rock him in your childrens hands and help him find his way
Take him to your hiding place and let him come inside
Hell never tell your secret, cross my heart and hope to die
Peaceful valleys, animals and children asking me
Tell the story that you told of sailors drinking tea
Tell the one about the man who saddled up the wind
Pegasus and flying fish and woodsmen made of tin
Words by joe henry, music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Intentions~
Chimera knows about the dark side of the moon
Chimera knows many incantations
Chimera knows evil like the back of her hand
Chimera knows sadistic and savagery raise her
Chimera knows toxic pleases her
Chimera knows destruction is her favorite compulsion
Chimera knows that all the good desserts she prepares
Are best served up cold
Chimera's cheesecake is KILLER
Yes, Chimera knows
poem by Theodora Onken
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New England Magazine
Upon Bottle Miche the autre day
While yet the nuit was early,
Je met a homme whose barbe was grey,
Whose cheveaux long and curly.
'Je am a poete, sir,' dit he,
'Je live where tres grande want teems—
I’m faim, sir. Sil vous plait give me
Un franc or cinquatite centimes.'
I donne him vingt big copper sous
But dit, 'You moderne rhymers
The sacre poet name abuse—
Les poets were old timers.'
'Je know! I know!' he wept, contrite;
'The bards no more suis mighty:
Ils rise no more in eleve flight,
Though some are beaucoup flighty.
'Vous wonder why Je weep this way,
Pour quoi these tears and blubbers?
It is mon fault les bards today
Helas! suis mere earth-grubbers.
'There was a time when tout might see
My grande flights dans the saddle;
Crowned rois, indeed, applauded me
Le Pegasus astraddle.
'Le winged horse avec acclaim
Was voted mon possession;
Je rode him tous les jours to fame;
Je led the whole procession.
'Then arrivee the Prussian war—
The siege—the sacre famine—
Then some had but a crust encore,
We mange the last least ham-an’
'Helas! Mon noble winged steed
Went oft avec no dinner;
On epics il refusee feed
And maigre grew, and thinner!
'Tout food was gone, and dans the street
Each homme sought crusts to sate him—
Joyeux were those with horse’s meat,
And Pegasus! Je ate him!'
My anger then Je could not hide—
To parler scarcely able
'Oh! curses dans you, sir!' Je cried;
'Vous human livery stable!'
He fled! But vous who read this know
Why mon pauvre verse is beaten
By that of cinquante years ago
‘Vant Pegasus fut eaten!
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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Firebreather
As the wind blows and leaves rustle.
Fire spits through the air.
Smoke and ash fly everywhere.
The young and old cower in fear.
Young and handsome bursts out of the clouds.
Big and strong with a mighty sword.
Shield in one hand to fight off the flames.
Ashes fly everywhere but the hero shows no fear.
Triumphant roars ring through the skies.
Screams come from all directions.
I'll save you all the hero claims.
Flames shoot towards the sky.
The hero rises to the challenge.
A failed attempt at stabbing the heart.
Followed by many many more.
This hero will never give up.
He will not rest till mirth fills the atmosphere.
Jab, jab and jab again.
He must try with all his might.
One last stab, will the fire breather go down?
The hero hopes and prays for success.
The ground shakes.
Oh no a possible earthquake.
The hero celebrates with joy.
The monster is dead and now has no head.
The young hero mounts the head with pride.
All fear is gone but no hope is lost.
The hero may rest at last.
poem by Katie Diaz
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A Hero?
Her hero is pretty and thin
Her hero is a hero to many
A hero of fame and a hero of fortune
A role model, a hero of glamour
Her hero is a hero to many
His hero is fit and fast
His hero is a hero to many
A hero of sport, a hero of games
A role model, a hero of victory
His hero is a hero to many
Her hero is clever yet plane
Her hero is a hero to few
A hero of science, a hero of logic
A role model, a hero of knowledge
Her hero is a hero to few
His hero is a hero of art but he is poor
His hero is a hero to few
A hero of word a hero of writings
A role model, a hero of language
His hero is a hero to few
But that’s the thing with your heros....
Hero worship is only skin deep.
poem by Timothy Venard
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To Miss Edith M. Thomas
Your Pegasus, Edith, is hitched to a star,
While mine drags along a Sixth Avenue car;
Yours bears you away to the far empyrean,
Mine carries me down through the quarters plebeian.
Now, soaring aloft, you stop at Antares,
Call it home, that 's the place for Penates and Lares;
Or back to old Greece with her heroes and gods,
You get up a flirtation in sonnets and odes.
(Though they hailed from Olympus, that classical spot,
These "old parties," confess, were a pretty bad lot.)
Then with dear Mother Nature you make very free
To fathom her secrets of bird, flower, and tree;
To live with her ever on intimate terms,
A freedom on your part, she always confirms,
Although so exclusive she is with the rest of us,
Never giving her password or key to the best of us.
But you have them both, and can seek at your pleasure
Her most secret haunts, her most precious treasure;
And she calls you in accents as winning and mild,
As some fond old grandmother calls a pet child.
The round of my Pegasus lies through the town;
He travels and travels, now up, and now down;
I pull on the strap, and he willingly stops,
And leaves me to visit the markets and shops.
(My car, you perceive, is the bobtail variety
So little admired by the press and society.)
But wherever we go he signally fails
To lift me above the street levels and rails.
So you see that our steeds are not matched for a race,
And with all best endeavors can never keep pace.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Bold Knight
He rode is gallant steed
the sun reflecting off his breastplate.
He rode into the dragon’s den
to rid his precious homeland
of the monster that stalked it there.
This bold knight whose armour
glinted in the sun
rode high upon his steed
and would soon be
a hero to everyone.
Many had died at the breath
of this monstrous beast,
now one man
with the courage of a lion
would soon end the rein of terror.
Dismounting from his steed,
sword and shield in hand
approached the monster’s lair.
A sheet of flame emerged from within the cave,
and then came the bellowing roar.
The dragon emerged
and studied the silver figure
that stood before him.
He blew a gust of flame.
The knight raised his shield reflecting the fire.
The knight advanced
towards the beast
that towered over him.
Before the dragon
could blow more fire.
The knight rushed forward
and thrust his sword deep
within the dragon’s belly.
The dragon reared up
its wings flapped in a gallant gesture
before it fell silent to the ground
The beast that had terrorised
his beloved lands now lay slain
by this mighty knight’s hand.
No more would it scorch
his beloved land.
24 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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Mortgaged
These spotted trousers, now too short,
Were once some verses smoothly wrought,
The worn-out bluchers on my feet
Twin sonnets to My Lady Sweet,
This 'decker' hanging round my nose
The product of an ODE TO ROSE;
The collar, tie and underpants
Are still an editor's advance
For some wild Bacchanalian song
The gods, I hope, will send along...
To work a dead horse off one's hand
(More so, of Pegasus's brand)
Is what a poet hates to do,
Yet still is what Fate drives us to.
Ah me, I feel my soul is ripe
For forty couplets' worth of tripe,
Three lines of beer, a verse of bread,
But O ... I'll have to pay instead
That d___d old Editor!!
poem by Hugh McCrae
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Pegasus
If I am a Pegasus, the winged horse in Greek mythology.
Definitely I would have changed my stable, jockey and reins
As I want to be free myself.
I am sure that my Master would have released me
And I find a short cut for my loved ones.
I promise him to be returned with my lost identity.
Then I could have request from my Master to be a Stallion as usual
And give back the wings according to my phenomenon.
Master, please do not count my teeth as I am a workhorse without the working papers.
(To my poet friend Max.Reif)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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the white winged Pegasus and the dreamer....
writing most likely as felt (by me) is more of a travel in the past,
you reminisce, your nostalgia bloats like a trouble in your kidney
you wish to filter all dirt from clean memories, hoping that what finally must be written are only those good and health ones, those that can propel you to a better destination,
sometimes Pegasus comes and lands on your writing table to the size of a pen, blows his nose, waggles it tail telling you that he is now ready to take you to that wasted patch of your past,
and you take heed, ride on its back, taken by his wings to one segment of your life
with mother, in her birthplace, somewhere in Mindanao, before the war broke out,
she was with your Aunt Olang, whose U.S. army husband succumb to the bionets of the Japanese platoon,
and who for just a short time finds the substitute of the local guerrilla named Magno, who sharpens his bolo to gather coconut wine,
in the kitchen you cousin Panit is opening a can of sardines to be cooked with some yellow noddles for supper
wood is scarce and so is water, but laughter is innumerable,
it seems that people laugh for no reason at all, in the middle of that war
you look at the roof with leaks, rain comes at night and everyone is transferring places since the pillows and blankets are all wet
there is suffering then, but laughter is always there to cure all the
lapses and insufficiency
harshness, hardships have no place for people whose hearts are attuned to being contented with what is available for the moment
you want to settle there but the winged Pegasus is already restless
he has to serve other clients who still want to go back to their pasts
you wonder if this white winged horse understand people who want to live
and bury their future in the past, accepting the fact that in there
they are happier....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Want A Monster To Be My Friend
Some kids just love
To play with dolls
Or put on funny hats
And some make pets
Of birds and fish
And dogs and
Alley cats
That's not the way
I like to play
I'm tired of all these
I need a very
Special friend
Won't you
Help me please?
I want a monster
To be my playmate
I want a monster
To be my friend
I want to get
For my own pet
A real live monster
Who's not pretend
Oh, I want a monster
To be my playmate
We'd soon become
Good friends because
Although they're hairy
And sometimes scary
They have such soft
And furry paws
If I make friends with
A friendly monster
I'd be the best that a
friend could be
I'd let him do
Whatever he wants to
And he'd always
Belong to me
So, if you know a
Nice old monster
If you've a monster
To recommend
Ooh, golly gee
Please send him to me
I just can't wait
Until then!
I want a monster
A real live monster
I want a monster
Send me my monster
I want a monster
A real live monster
I want a monster
Send my monster
I want a monster
A real live monster
I want a monster
To be my friend!
Oh please
Send my monster
Does anybody have
A monster out there
I'll take a
Secondhand monster
He doesn't have
To be new
song performed by by En Vogue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To be Hero
A hero is some one looked upto
Who others may love to be
A hero never loss hope
To be hero means to be courageous
And willing to put their life aside for another person
A hero is anybody or somebody that was loved
To be hero, must be successful
To be hero, may not be superhuman but must saved
If they say i'm to be hero
Hero must lead by sample because everyman is hero
Every hero is man
poem by Olaniyan Kehinde Hero Hko
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I am My Hero
Of
course! !
I am a hero,
my hero,
your hero,
CNN hero,
Fox Taxis Oil toxic hero
my street mate hero,
my African roommate hero,
United nation hero,
unesco
unicef
moncef
duracef
charl
du champs hero,
picasso hero
mozart,
bethoven
chichina
lovesky
hero,
and everybody hero?
of! course! ! ! ! !
-not off course-
I LOVE
MYSELF...
DO YOU THINK
OR DREAM
I OR i
WILL SELL MY SELF? ? ?
? ? ?
OR ASK FOR
YOUR
APPROVAL,
SQUARED AND OVAL
AS YOU
LOVE IT TO BE..
Of course i am
my own hero
but,
also
i am sure...
everyone is my hero.
poem by Atef Ayadi
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Hero's
Hero’s come in all shapes and sizes
Some of them are big surprises
Matters not just who they are
They come from near and some so far
Making our world a better place
To live our life in this humane race
Some don’t know just what they have done
But that hero lives inside every one
Now sit and think deep down inside
What’s gone passed in your life
The littlest thing that’s helped someone
Your their hero and now you one
Remember all our hero’s now
When at home or in your car
You can be sure one won’t be far
10 01 2009
Chellaston
poem by Jim O'Donnell
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Death
I see the monster wake up with rage
and we feed
our enemies to it.
Bullets and bombs and guns
answer its call
and even some of us fall under its spell.
The monster blows fire
and havoc and shock everywhere
and some wounded beg for it to come.
The innocent suffer the most
and hope for it to pass by
and I hear woman and babies cry.
I do not die,
but that monster kills something
deep in me
and I will never be free
from the impact
that the monster’s tracts leave.
poem by Gert Strydom
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When A Hero Comes
When a hero comes
There'll be no more fear
When our hero comes
No longer will we shed tears
When that hero comes
They'll pave the way
To a brighter and better day
When a hero comes
When our hero arrives
Evil better beware
You better be prepared
Cause the bullets will rip through the air
When a hero comes
Now you better get ready
Cause its starting soon
And our hero will arrive at high noon
Cause when our hero comes
You better listen to what I say
Or you'll forfeit your life today
And now our hero comes
And now here he comes
To end all of our pain
And now that he's come
He'll clear away the stain
Cause our hero's come
And as the bullets fly
We will hear them cry
And finally the evil will die
Cause our hero came
poem by Vasto Grom
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