VERTICALITY’S SPACE & THE QUEST: Once A Golden #Ripple Flew #poetheme #mpy

notes

1. Helle = light
    Helle + Phryxos = lightening bolt
    the hooves of KRIOS KHRYSOMALLOS  = thunder
   “where Helle fell” = “let her rip” 
   X = the spot or space where something old repeats but something new can be retrieved

This  is where a rippling effect grew  or “ripped” slashing the sea to reveal what desire lay underneath it 
in the human heart (not to mention what men and women are willing to do/sacrifice to achieve a "falling" not falling under the grip of the darker aspect [i.e. vengeful heart] in this rippling effect ) X marks the spot where soul retrieval can be had and the story can be made new or otherwise.  This making would be an example of mythopoesis. Where this making happens, [where Helle fell "here"] says it is not happening to ego. Ego is responding to the rippling effect of its absence presence and how one turns this psyche-making having recognized it in one's own heart.

2. Ripple, perhaps from Proto-Germanic *rupjan-, from PIE root *reup-, *reub- "to snatch."  Rip, meaning "to slash open" is from 1570s. “Let her rip” (from 1798 and on) means something like "to move with slashing force." But, also “rip” is said of seas (1775 on). (And so, likewise in antiquity this could be said of nereids like Nephele and her daughter Helle as well as the wrath of Ino); when there is a rip in the sea, ripples get rippling. Said of seas, a ripped sea marks the adventure ahead and maybe how desire operates just underneath in the hearts of every quest adventurer.

3. Nephele (nebula or cloud goddess), the mother of Helle & her twin brother, Phrixus, from Phryxos, (Greek) meaning "thrilling or causing shivers”, derived from ripple, sends the ram with the golden fleece, KRIOS KHRYSOMALLOS, a gift to her twin off-spring to save them from the wrath of Ino. (Something to think about is Helle as a shiver or ripple’s missing eros.)

4. Ino, once a mortal queen of Thebes took shape in the human imagination as an image doubling for the goddess Amphitrite.   Amphitrite and the Nereids govern the realm of the titanic, aged sea and its “mermaid singing” as late as the Iliad of Homer and long before she is made wife to Poseidon. (Something to think about are how tears as “mermaid singing” unite and maintain separation between Helle, missing eros & Phryxos)  

5. The Myth of The Birth of KRIOS KHRYSOMALLOS (golden fleeced, Aries) is told by the Roman mythographer, Pseudo-Hyginus (C2A.D.) in his wonder-tale, Fabulae. ( see Fabulae 188 trans. Grant) In the Fabulae, one encounters Theophane.

6. Theophane means something like divine incarnation. In her story she is sought after like Homer’s Penelope by far too many greedy suitors not particularly interested in her but in possessing her wealth. Winning Theophane is a  laying claim by divine right to a divine right, a kind of land-naming and/or land claiming belonging to another realm of insight. Inherent here is a kind of distinct, cold misogyny, too. "Here", the medium of the wondertale, may be the message, a using of the wondertale at the same time disqualifying the source of its wisdom as “knowledge”.

Theophane becomes a divine possession up for grabs by somebody else and not a divine nature (mermaid singing) with outright equality individually held or possessed and necessary to the psychic life of the anima mundi.    There is a spiritual idea, land nam but also a spiritual war and the spoils of warring factions up for grabs inherited in the story.  There is also the notion of a god's revenge for destroying what belongs to no one else ( aka the anima mundi.)  The story will tell of that moment, how people acting out of their baser animal natures, invite those seeking revenge to become wolves.

Pseudo-Hyginus tells us how Theophane (of the realm of mermaid singing before the sea is made “wife”) is turned  by Poseidon into a ewe (apparently she had no say in the matter so it seems to be against her will) and then, as part of the deception lay with her to produce “the golden-fleeced”, Aries (sic) while at the same time turned the people of the land into cattle.  The suitors sail off to retrieve Theophane a little like Homer earlier tells of Menelaus sailing off to retrieve Helen whom Paris had taken back to Troy.  The suitors, finding no people to fight but merely animals to slaughter, begin slaughtering cattle.  Poseidon turns suitors into wolves.  Thusly, is told how Poseidon’s revenge is actually the description of a ripple effect. It is a story revealing how everything human might fall into animal form acting out a terrifyingly cold “shiver” as it conforms to the archetypal grip of an inherited complex at work in the ancestral soul.

Theophane, a most beautiful maiden, was the daughter of Bisaltes. When many suitors sought her from her father, Neptunus [Poseidon] carried her off and took her to the island of Crumissa. When the suitors knew she was staying there, they secured a ship and hastened to Crumissa. To deceive them, Neptunus changed Theophane into a very beautiful ewe, himself into a ram, and the citizens of Curmissa into cattle. When the suitors came there and found no human beings, they began to slaughter the herds and use them for food. Neptunus saw that the men who had been changed to cattle were being destroyed, and changed the suitors into wolves. He himself, in ram form, lay with Theophane, and from this union was born the Aries Chrysomallus (Golden-fleeced Ram) which carried Phrixus to Colchis, and whose fleece, hung in the grove of Mars [Ares], Jason took away.

see theoi.com

7.  Amphitrite / https://youtu.be/C7lnQe9yvOA



#mpy #poetheme #ripple #mythopo #amwriting #poetry #MondayBlogs #MondayMorning #MyTwoWordAddiction

POETRY MONTH #poetrymonth #ohj #mpy

MARCHING PAPERS

Eros harrows my heart: wild gales sweeping …    ~Sappho, Fragment 42, Michael Burch, trans.

April’s cruelty snatched from me
lines of poetry

no subterfuge, windblown homophone;
no empty wrappers journey alone


©2016 April Is The Cruelest Month stephaniepope mythopoetry.com
#poetrymonth #ohj #mpy

#BENEATH : A Poetheme

BENEATH A POETHEME
"The logics that create the surface of the story
          are never the story." -Maggie Macary

I.

A root formation
you

Old Moon, and I
beneath you

Being of the one dream
a creature of creation, too


II

Old Moon
a hidden thrust in core and crust

Beneath you
freezing and thawing

Has begun
in trees to run


III.

Old Moon
dreaming in that language,

Piñon 
pine

Beneath you,
something new


IV.

Sore
piñon pine

Sings
crow

Your deep stone rhythm
pocks my breast

Repeats
beneath my rest Old Moon                  

  ©2016 Root Formation stephaniepope mythopoetry.com



notes
1. The introduction to "March Moon" ( to read the full essay see http://www.mythopoetry.com/mythopoetics/essay_moon_mar.html )

For The Love of a Woman

by stephanie pope published 03/13/09 Pt 3 March Moon A Cite For Sore Eyes After a while, one starts thinking in that language, dreaming in that language, as well as speaking in that language, and the behavior becomes different.  --J. J. Jameson

These essays around the full moon are inspired by a thought whose soul wonders what it is to reflect the mind of winter. Seeing the moon one gentle evening, this thinking began to imagine the moon had seen a good portion of the ghost world of what came and went many times over throughout countless eons long past. Thereupon perhaps something might remain in these ‘other world’ remains winter minds still and this might be of value and import to us now in our own life resolve. Whereupon our world, too, in the way it remains predisposed to reflect such mythic thoughts always and once more and imaginally so, we might then begin again to share the soul of this world with each other, being of the one dream and begun from within creative life’s image and likeness creatures of creation too. So this now is the imaginal route retraced that brings to me in contemplation likenesses for the ‘mind of winter’ and bears these through the first to this last of the winter-moon essays for this series.

2. "The logics that create the surface of the story are never the story." -Maggie Macary, "Cultural Mythology, A Methodology

ODDLY, NO HOLLYWOOD JOURNEY IS THE EXTRA-TERRESTRIAL IN NO CHAOTIC ORBIT

for "Blackstar" see https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kszLwBaC4Sw 

GOOD-BYE MAJOR TOM
He trod on sacred ground, he cried loud into the crowd
(I'm a blackstar, I'm a blackstar, I'm not a gangstar)
I can't answer why (I'm a blackstar)
Just go with me (I'm not a filmstar)  -David Bowie, "Blackstar"

The fallen chaos hero’s
boon like a comet’s rise; a
short period, earth-crossing orbit
flux amass; the dark constemation
stardust riddled Ziggy lit
a secret phrase in the throes.


©2016 No Chaotic Obit stephaniepope mythopoetry.com
#ohj #mpy


notes

1. A blackstar is both a type of cancer lesion and thought to be a transitional phase between a star and a singularity.  The mythic image as a poetic figure in literary forms personifies  death.

2. The song, “Blackstar” mentions “the villa of Ormen”. Ormen is a Norwegian word meaning serpent. The Villa of Ormen means the town of the serpent.

3. First usage of the word, constemation in literary narrative is by George Brennan, the Democratic candidate for U.S. Senate in Illinois. Appearing in a 1926 article, Prohibition Law Injured Temperance Cause  in "The Montague Observer."  Brennan states,

The men who subscribed to the immortal document of 150 years ago were men of broad and liberal principles. Imagine the surprise of these men if they could return to our country today. Imagine what they would think and say when they saw the nation overrun by an army of spies paid by the government. Fancy their constemation when they were told that these spies had shot down citizens who had resented their intrusion and their officiousness. Picture their surprise if, gathering as they were accustomed to for a social hour, their meeting place would be invaded by these spies and they should be herded off to jails as lawbreakers.


For the entire newspaper article see the cached page accessed January, 2016

4. SEE “Blackstar”

 

HARK! THE HERALD, PHEME

PHEME
Queen Victoria Memorial, Liverpool

THE SPECTACULAR PHONE

O, The Spectacular Phone
Winged Ossa Pheme
leading spirited voices on high
great tidings & low rumor

©2015 HARK! The Herald stephaniepope mythopoetry.com #ohj #mpy

A WOMAN WITH AN UNUSUAL PET

BRITOMARTIS

blessed she fled
foul to fish


©2015 Soft Terror In Six Words stephaniepope mythopoetry.com

In SIX WORDS or fewer, write a story about a woman with an unusual pet. #6words  @Kelsye 

notes
The poem is titled “soft terror” to accent the early origin of this goddess in the mythologem of the mountain mother, Artemis. The Mother of Mountains is perhaps the earliest aspect of the Cretan goddess.  Given this context makes her “unusual” pet one that possesses the demon-like features of the gorgon.

A BOULDER ON HIS SHOULDER

ON A HILLSIDE IN THE UNDERWORLD

STARTING OVER
SISYPHUS LABORS
STILL

©2015 UNENDING STEPHANIEPOPE MYTHOPOETRY.COM
In SIX WORDS or fewer, write a story about starting over. #6words #writeprompt @Kelsye  ____________________
notes

#amwriting #mythopo #poetry #mpy #writeprompt #5words #storyFriday #Fridayreads #mustread

THE PEACE OF HOMER

BY ATHENA'S COMMAND

boy no more, "Go!"
"Find him!"

©2015 Telemachus   stephaniepope mythopoetry.com
In SIX WORDS or fewer, write a story about leaving home. #6words #amwriting

#mpy #twolines #blog  #poetry  #mustread #mythpo #writeprompt


NOTES

Spiritual growth in Homer is related to the inheritance of a certain hardship brought to bear on families because of war.  The spiritual quest is a journey to the father, the one missing. “Go! Find him.”

CICADA DISPLAYS / ON BODIES IN RUIN AND EMBODYING RUINS

HEARD UNSEEN UNKNOWN

deathless Tithonos
deathless Athena

the shared word, sleepless
the shared soul, speechless

the boundary between
missing notes


©2015 Missing Notes Bug Us stephaniepope mythopoetry.com


notes

1. Regarding mythical palinode, poetic image-formation describing the danger of cicada’s song and the clever usefulness of it in the Phaedrus by Socrates  with regards poetic ways of seeing, see Myth and Philosophy in Plato’s Phaedrus, Daniel S. Werner (New York: Cambridge, 2012) Chapter 6.2 pp.138-144. Socrates will say that cicadas (the soul of the poet) will grant their gift to the ones who, when lead by sound to cicada soul avoid the enchantment in cicada’s singing; to be led by it, through it is in manner very much like how Odysseus is led by and then through the sound of the siren’s song.

2. The soul of the myth of cicada singing is already part of tradition. Cicadas are seen as divine critters, closer to the deathless gods than mortal man. The poetic palinode is introduced into the Platonic, poetic tradition to reshape it in a discursive psychagogia. But, this cannot ever be a final word. The poetic image for this psychagogic problem is sleepless Athena’s (d)anger(ous) authority.

3. There is a story of Athena inventing deer bone pipes and trying to play music on them. Experiencing the ridicule of goddesses on how ugly her playing music makes her appearance and discovering just what they meant by the comments in gazing at herself playing, she puts down her sound instrument in both senses. She rejects it and she lays a curse upon its flesh. Athena’s response to her own body image dis/played through her music’s sounds seems excessive. She has a similar reaction to cicadas. The story goes that she, after battle and with battle fatigue, curses them for keeping her awake all night giving her no relief from headache. Yet the cicada that ails her is also the antidote. The ancient Greek authors sought out the cicada’s song (poetic soul) as remedy for relief from eros. See footnote 23 p. 137. Athena’s curse; what does it veil about Athena herself?

4. The Greek word for “old age” is also the word for the skin the cicada sloughs See foot note 22 p.137

5. The cicada will not sing in captivity. Footnote 23 p. 137. Said another way, Captivating the souls of persons enchanted solely by the beauty of the palinode (the poem’s form) is not to encounter the poem’s depths, which one must begin to interrogate oneself to hear exactly of what the poem (the soul of the poet) sings. More importantly, who is the poet? Is it not this very autochthonous life and who the poet “is” a skin shed to reveal it?

6. For cicada as a metaphor not for the poet but for the soul of the poet see footnote 20 p. 137. Old advisors and excellent orators are likened to cicadas. (see also footnote 20.) Elsewhere comparisons are made to the sound of old men’s voices as lily-skinned and like cicadas shedding skins. It is also noted how young men in ritual (See the poem by the Hellenistic poet, Theodoridas on the ritual shedding of a young man’s long hair in dedication to the Artemis of Warriors (as opposed to the Artemis of Hunter-Gatherers)  wear a cicada hairpin in their hair to show this autochthonic connection to the Greek landscape, a kind of natural bridging between the soul of the human animal and that of the landscape which contains and embodies them. Today the study of this kind of mythologized soundscaping is called zoomusicology. Elsewhere there is a turning of the ritual image of the cicada hairpin as a reference to (and putting down of) femininity.

7. So then, what soul is femininity and how does a poetry in the soul of depths attempt to (re)embody it?

8. What soul is this soul, shut away, shut up and shut out by Athena’s gaze to which the deep cicadian life, antidote for eros, eternally (re)turns and moves toward in singing a past still present?

9. Finally, how appropriate a re-visioning is the image now of a cicadian band playing a set today in spite of or on account of its outsider status when it comes to knowing and giving an embodiment to the unknown or unseen image in bodies of ruins that bug us still?

POETIC AUTHORS / In SIX WORDS or fewer, write a story about becoming an author.

AUTHORING THE SONG OF LIFE

ΕἰςτέττιγαΜακαρίζομένσε, τέττιξ,
ὅτιδενδρέωνἐπ΄ἄκρωνὀλίγηνδρόσονπεπωκώς,
βασιλεὺςὅπως, ἀείδειs (Ανακρέων)[i]

victory symbol this
cicada's chirping song

©2015 Forever Young stephaniepope mythopoetry.com

---

[i] “We call you happy, oh Cicada, because after you have drunk a little dew in the treetops you sing like a queen.” WEST, M. (1986). Carmina Anacreonta. Leipzig: Teubner.#6words #amwriting #writers #blog #poetry #mpy #2lines #mythopoetics #vss

Writer’s Prompt: In SIX WORDS or fewer, write a story about becoming an author. #6words #amwriting #writers
Prompt Source: @kelsye

notes

1. Cicada. Order, hemipteran and suborder, Auchenorrhyncha, in the superfamily, Cicadoidea. In Latin, “cicada” means “tree cricket”. When they start buzzing in late July and August there is about 6 more weeks till frost legend has it.  In Greek, “cicada” is called “tettix” with modern Greek calling it “tzitzikas”. Both words are fun metrics in writing.

2. In a scholar’s paper Anastasia Georgaki provides a number of interesting research ideas such as 

a) “The earliest explicit reference on the cicada singing, comes from Homer in the Illiad with the adjective leirios (like the flower 'lily') where Homer describes the 'shrilling voices' of the elder men, likened to Cicada song 'lily-like', after their city has been besieged. Hesiod's reference underlines the advent of the summer by the first loud cicada song (ηχέτατέττιξ) and Anacreon creates a precious ode on the wonderful singing of the tettix under the effect of dew (like the effect of the wine).”

~see Anastasia Georgaki Listening to the Cicada Chorus in the Plato Academy: soundscape research

b)  Hesiod’s reference (Hesiod Works 582 ff. : “τέττιξδενδρέῳἐφεζόμενοςλιγυρὴνκαταχεύετ̓ἀοιδὴνιπυκνὸνὑπὸπτερύγων, θέρεος” “καματώδεοςὥρῃ) underlines the advent of the summer by the first loud cicada song (ηχέτατέττιξ)

c) Anacreon creates a precious ode on the wonderful singing of the tettix under the effect of dew (like the effect of the wine); “We call you happy, oh Cicada, because after you have drunk a little dew in the treetops you sing like a queen.”

d) Georgaki mentions two important myths with regards the cicada. One is the myth of Eunomos. Eunomos is a citharode, a poet who composes his poetry upon the stringed instrument, the cithara, a kind of lyre. The myth says there is a contest between Ariston of Rhegion and Eunomos of Lokri, which takes place in Delphi. During the contest a string breaks on the lyre of Eunomos and a cicada jumps up to fill the role and supply the missing note. The poet-singer adapts his music to that of his accomplice’s missing note and this move(ment) wins the contest. This odd thing happens along the Halex River marking the boundary between two regions, Rhegion and Lokri. The river passes through a deep ravine. The cicadas on the Lokri side of the bank sing, the cicadas on the Rhegion side do not. This tale is taken up again by a Christian revisionist, Clement of Alexandria, who retells the story another way, one, Roger Lipsey in Have You Been to Delphi? in a section called ‘A Chapter of Tales” says  Clement works with at great length to alter in accent the miraculous kinship bond the poet has with nature through cicadian rhythm. For more about this turn in the Christian theological imagination see Have You Been to Delphi?: Tales of the Ancient Oracle for Modern Minds, New York: Suny Series New York Press, 2001 pp116-117.

The second cicada myth Georgaki mentions is the myth of Tithonos and Eos, Dawn. One of my poetic achievements around this story conflates it with the Endymion/Selene tale (a blissful form of the pair in the tale) and the rose of the Aurora-princely tale of the Sleeping Beauty in the Wood. Endymion would be a sleeping beauty, Selene supplying “the kiss of 100 years” in a fresh way.  The poem I reference comparing the three is published here two days before today’s poem.

Tithonos is granted immortality but not youth, by Zeus when Eos, the goddess, Dawn asks for immortality for Tithonos. When Tithonos grows old he begins to babble on and on about all the things he’s lived and knows about life and this is that to which he is forever riven as a result of his unnatural longevity. Eos is dutiful as a lover and shuts him away from the world to live forever in this manner…

…when loathsome old age pressed full upon him, and he could not move nor lift his limbs, this seemed to her in her heart the best counsel: she laid him in a room and put to the shining doors. There he babbles endlessly, and no more has strength at all, such as once he had in his supple limbs.  (see Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite)

3. Other Greek variations in telling the myth of Tithonos say Eos turns him into the first cicada. And here it strikes me this renders something visible. A Delphi of the mind is perhaps suggested here. So when the word Delphi is invoked, it invites both the historical imagination and the soul of this other, earlier Pythian form. Like the twin banks of the river Halex, cicadas sing only one side of Delphi. That side can be likened to the Delphi of the mind in which a patterned potential capable of archetypal activism evermore and particularly now activates in aging psyche. And in the story of Tithonos, Eos can be likened to the likes of the thirteenth fairy who is really the twelfth; she is changing the way Tithonos is fated by Zeus.  (In the painting of Endymion on Mount Latmos, 1879, Grimshaw has painted Selene in the form of such a fairy!)

The river place has become likened to the riven place place of the split, crack, boundary, gap, place for turning outcomes another way; it marks the spot in the temporized zone of the mind’s space―that deep ravine, just where revisioning in poetic seeing is possible. Yet, like that landscape along either side the bank of the Halex River in the story of Eunomos and the cicada, not every kind of poet hears it.

4.  In the same scholarly paper, Georgaki also notes how Thucydides wrote that Athenians wore gold Cicadas in their hair in order to show their "autochthony".

5. There appears to be a comparison in Homer between lily-skinned voices (old age) and the missing note cicada supplies Eunomos…

λειρ-ιόεις, εσσα, εν, prop.

A  like a lily, but in Hom. only metaph., χρόα λειριόεντα lily skin, Il.13.830; of the cicadae, ὄπα λειριόεσσαν their delicate voice, 3.152; of the Muses' voice, Hes.Th.41; Ἑσπερίδες Q.S.2.418.  2 of  the lily, κάρη Nic.Al.406.    see Liddel and Scott  http://perseus.uchicago.edu/cgi-bin/philologic/getobject.pl?p.43:4.LSJ

6. The application of this missing note, the poetic life’s lilyskin, psyche’s deep voice in the age’s aging seems to be that similar solution Eos supplies Tithonian existence. At first light the goddess puts a Dionysian sweet on Tithonos’ tongue which is drunk with dew; it supplies the missing note giving way to metamorphosis.

Noticing this I note how it is these days. To outlive one’s beautiful youth and still be too young and healthy to die seems to be the lot of a good many retirees.  The spiritual task individuating a long life, what will it have been like? Into what image and likeness will it have been reborn?  How will it show its autochthony?

Having grown up under the sign of the hippie, perhaps wearing the lily skin in our hair is the role of the 60’s generation who are now in their 60’s literally.

THROUGH THE SEEING POOL H-GEEKY

Endymion on Mount Latmos (1879) (John) Atkinson Grimshaw

SEEING THROUGH FAIRIES SEEING THROUGH

It is a common experience that a problem difficult at night is resolved in the morning after the committee of sleep has worked on it. - John Steinbeck


Sleep's nocturnal algorithm
Endymion's element

©2015 First Nocturne stephaniepope mythopoetry.com
#ohjDailyWords #mpy #writeprompt #5words #2lines #mythopoetics #vss #amwriting #blog #poetry


notes

 For more on JA Grimshaw see http://www.grimshaworigin.org/AtkinsonTheodosia.htm

1. Mythic tales carry image remains and are themselves remainders, burial mounds inscribed with such remains still remaining.

2. Hypnos, God of Sleep, resides in Erebos, the land of eternal darkness, beyond the gates of the rising sun. From here he rises into the sky each night in the train of his goddess mother, Nyx or Night. The Oneiroi, dark-winged spirits of dreams, are often depicted as bat-like creatures. These are his brothers, sons of Night, too. In the form of the spirit of dream, the Oneiroi are given the name, Morpheus and personified in notion. Thanatos, Death, a brother, belongs to this complex as well.

3. Let me begin in such ruins with a Roman-era collection of myths and the account of the one great love story between immortality’s goddess and mortal man. It is based largely on the mythologer and poet Pherecydes of Leros.  His account has perished but he is the one in which this particular telling of the myth whether Rose (Aurora), Eos or Selene.

There are three stories, three lights, three ladies, three lovers but really they are remains of the one story. I am pondering the Roman story of Selene and the shepherd, Endymion, the Greek story of Eos and the Trojan rhapsode, Tithonos and the marchen or fairytale of Sleeping Beauty, Aurora―a Roman reference again. She is called Rose by Charles Perrault in the 100 sleeping years before her kiss with the prince. I am pondering more deeply how analogies are made through poetic meanings held in abeyance. Perhaps I am thinking of a myth of the body that remains embodied and the heroic turn into mythopoetic man as we move from a heroic mode that once made meaning possible to a poetic one making meaning still possible.

I am beginning with the story as it is told in Greco-Roman imagination since it is Greek imagination in western psyche-making which tells our first story of poetic imagination (and imaginally speaking Tithonos is both a Trojan soldier and a poet.) I am musing on how poetic imagination often resolves the problems of the day-world’s mortality during slumber. Night seems to play an eternally important role.

Regarding this apparent change which is made possible in the soul of words as they emanate from the temporized sphere of a dark goddess’s eternity― poetic meanings held in abeyance turns them metaphorically; regarding this changing of hours into h’ours marking just where something new is possible―moreover necessary, there is, the myth shares, once a necessary flaw in that early mythic and poetic dream’s algorithm supposed to resolve the changing of hours in that eternal love affair that always and forever goes on everywhere at once between mortal and immortal things words attempt to embody. What matters embody, matter embodies in the aging remains of our words which live on after we are gone.

The first myth’s “love problem” gets handed down to us today in the story of Aurora’s birth. Aurora is the Roman name given the goddess, Dawn although in the story it is Selene who resolves the solution to the first light’s love problem. Pre-Sentient being is resolving being in a day-world kind of knowing passing between both science and art; the passage between both is a space in which a kind of becoming time in space and becoming space in time share without obstruction.

Here is perhaps a distinction. The Greek Goddess of dawn, Eos, links being to root it in the irrational soul carrying the same light’s meaning both ways. This is just what Selene does in the tale of the shepherd Endymion, Endymion in the same role held originally by Tithonos, soldier as poet. Later on this is the princely role in that moment in Sleeping Beauty with the midnight kiss. Selene resolves the problem Eos has at first light and throughout all time. Moon’s lingo (sleep) resolves for eternity how it is in love with the forms of time, of which, one’s consciousness is also made in image and likeness. The three goddesses form a committee of sleep to do for us now what we cannot do for ourselves daily. Within our remains is our unknowing made known.

The marchen tale, “Sleeping Beauty” carries Aurora’s curse as the rose within it but this curse is a new twist on the original love theme in how love’s “changing movement” turns the logos of hours to h-our or h’our’s psyche-making awareness which cannot ever die. (No matter which ego thinks what next morning!) Alas, because of what ego thinks in the morning and in spite of this, immortal love can only live in the body of matter’s life in as much as we are able to bring it to life ourselves.  Yet, in as much as the committee of sleep sustains our nocturnal algorithm, love seems to find its own way into our world.

The tale of Eos and Tithonos

The tale of Selene and Endymion

Sleeping Beauty In The Wood

THROUGH THE SEEING POOL THEY CAME

THE SEEING POOL 

GODWIVES LIFE-GIVING THE GIFT GIVING LIFE


wild heaven's fairy
dew gifts Aurora

2015 Original Mothering stephaniepope mythopoetry.com



notes

In SIX WORDS or fewer, write a story about a momentous celebration. #6words #writeprompt
Page_48_illustration_from_Fairy_tales_of_Charles_Perrault_(Clarke,_1922) image in public domain
water overlay applied

Charles Perrault Sleeping Beauty In The Wood

WHAT REALLY HAPPENED #2lines #6Words #writeprompt #amwriting #blog #poetry #mpy #mythopoetics #OHJ #vss

image in public domain

LAST NIGHT IN THE SEEING POOL

Peeking through fairies
seeing through magic


©2015 Expect Magic stephaniepope mythopoetry.com
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notes


In SIX WORDS, or fewer, write a story about what really happened.

NOTHINGNESS & GOD

WHAT POETS KNOW

Between chaos and night, by turns
the nothingness



©2015 Fundamental Darkness stephaniepope mythopoetry.com
#micropoetry #mpy #poetheme : between #mythopoetics #vss #2lines #lines #amwriting #poetry





notes

Credits


1. The collage image "Chaos" is  from Ovid, "Metamorphoses".

2. The collage image, "Night" is a painting by August Raynaud.

TERPSICHORE NYMPHS & STUFF

 For more glass sculpture by artist, Peter Mandl  see
http://www.petermandl.com/#!glass-scultures/c1aog

I SAW A SECRET LIFE DOWN THERE

Half past sunset, a beach
a darkly fluid reach
Maggie dancing


©2015 Maggie’s Secret Life
bedtime #vss  #mpy #micropoetry #mythopoetics #lines #3lines #poetry #amwriting #lines #Terpsichore

THE WHITE BEAUTY: MYTH OF THE VAGINAL SOUL

BEAUTIFULLY WHITE THE VAGINAL SOUL

winged anima spread
finds her animus seated
drug by its own hair

©2015 The Last Winter Moon stephaniepope mthopoetry.com
#poetheme #prompt #mpy #vss




notes

1. For an interesting missive on animus mythos see Gregory Smith, The Myth of the Vaginal Soul at https://web.duke.edu/classics/grbs/FTexts/44/Smith.pdf

REGARDING "FIND", "FIEND" & "FRIEND"

IN THE MADNESS OF MARCH

first stories, Edenic & Promethean
unite find, fiend & friend
living before the fall.



©2015 Good Friday stephaniepope mythopoetry.com
#poetheme #poetry #prompt #vss #mpy #3lines #mythopoetics

notes

1. For one turning on hubris and humility in science see Carl Pope’s blog, http://incharacter.org/observation/the-promethean-and-copernican-traditions-in-science/
2. For the longer form of the phrase and to examine in detail the poetic image in the phrase, “Pride goeth before the fall” see Proverbs 16:18 which reads as follows: “Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.”
3. For a turning of Ananke, necessary mythic inversions of the edenic see David J. Thomas, D.H. Lawrence’s “Snake: The Edenic Myth Inverted
4. For the poem, “Snake” by D. H. Lawrence provided below see http://unix.cc.wmich.edu/~cooneys/poems/dhl.snake.html

Snake
D.H. Lawrence

A snake came to my water-trough
On a hot, hot day, and I in pyjamas for the heat,
To drink there.
In the deep, strange-scented shade of the great dark carob tree
I came down the steps with my pitcher
And must wait, must stand and wait, for there he was at the trough before me.

7

He reached down from a fissure in the earth-wall in the gloom
And trailed his yellow-brown slackness soft-bellied down, over the edge of the stone trough*
And rested his throat upon the stone bottom,
And where the water had dripped from the tap, in a small clearness,
He sipped with his straight mouth,
Softly drank through his straight gums, into his slack long body,
Silently.

Someone was before me at my water-trough,
And I, like a second-comer, waiting.

16

He lifted his head from his drinking, as cattle do,
And looked at me vaguely, as drinking cattle do,
And flickered his two-forked tongue from his lips, and mused a moment,
And stooped and drank a little more,
Being earth-brown, earth-golden from the burning bowels of the earth
On the day of Sicilian July, with Etna smoking.

22

The voice of my education said to me
He must be killed,
For in Sicily the black, black snakes are innocent, the gold are venomous.
And voices in me said, If you were a man
You would take a stick and break him now, and finish him off.

But must I confess how I liked him,
How glad I was he had come like a guest in quiet, to drink at my water-trough
And depart peaceful, pacified, and thankless,
Into the burning bowels of this earth?

32

Was it cowardice, that I dared not kill him?
Was it perversity, that I longed to talk to him?
Was it humility, to feel so honoured?
I felt so honoured.

And yet those voices:
If you were not afraid, you would kill him!

And truly I was afraid, I was most afraid,
But even so, honoured still more
That he should seek my hospitality
From out the dark door of the secret earth.

41

He drank enough
And lifted his head, dreamily, as one who has drunken,
And flickered his tongue like a forked night on the air, so black,
Seeming to lick his lips,
And looked around like a god, unseeing, into the air,
And slowly turned his head,
And slowly, very slowly, as if thrice adream,
Proceeded to draw his slow length curving round
And climb again the broken bank of my wall-face.

50

And as he put his head into that dreadful hole,
And as he slowly drew up, snake-easing his shoulders, and entered farther,
A sort of horror, a sort of protest against his withdrawing into that horrid black hole,
Deliberately going into the blackness, and slowly drawing himself after,
Overcame me now his back was turned.

I looked round, I put down my pitcher,
I picked up a clumsy log
And threw it at the water-trough with a clatter.

58

I think it did not hit him,
But suddenly that part of him that was left behind convulsed in undignified haste,
Writhed like lightning, and was gone
Into the black hole, the earth-lipped fissure in the wall-front,
At which, in the intense still noon, I stared with fascination.

And immediately I regretted it.
I thought how paltry, how vulgar, what a mean act!
I despised myself and the voices of my accursed human education.

66

And I thought of the albatross,
And I wished he would come back, my snake.

For he seemed to me again like a king,
Like a king in exile, uncrowned in the underworld,
Now due to be crowned again.

71

And so, I missed my chance with one of the lords
Of life.
And I have something to expiate:
A pettiness.

Taormina, 1923

 

#OHJ FEBRUARY DAILY WORDS

IN THE GARDEN OF FEBRUARY

THERE ARE CARDINAL TREES
HEART-FELT & RED LUSCIOUS
WITH ELBOW ROOM

©2015 Cardinal Tree  stephaniepope mythopoetry.com
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THE FORGE IN THE HEART

Cupid's Forge, Edward Burne-Jones, 1861

FEBRUARY'S POETRY

In Cupid's forge
soul heats up.

©2015 To Thalia stephaniepope mythopoetry.com
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____________
notes

1. Assemble of Foules, Chaucer (Assembly of Fowls)

“Under a tree, beside a welle, I seye,
Cupide our Lorde, his arrows forge and file;
And at his feet his bow already lay;
And wel his doughter tempred al the while
The heddes in the welle; and with her wile
She couched hem after, as they should serve
Some to slee and some to wound and kerve,
Couched and arrayed in order sorted”

2.  During the Apollonic era of western civilization, Thalia retained the highest metaphor assigned as the era’s collective soul or inner image-pattern, “the music of the spheres”. The heart itself is a metaphor for the inner life of Thalia or soul-making's aesthetic, "poetic" sense. Each heart has its own intellect. One must bring one’s own intellect into Cupid’s Forge and into the service of Thalia’s psyche-making. And, as one can see from the painting, Thalia’s home lies within a fundamental darkness whereby Cupid’s crimson supplies bright love.

Then, too, I may suppose, should I lose contact with this soul of Thalia whereby a fundamental darkness roots me in the service of this other making, a making which allows her soul to displays its sense to me, the image of Thalia singing the music of the spheres would render—not Thalia but a Silent Thalia. I will not have heard her soul’s inner life singing within my heart its own soul logical felt-sense.

It is in such moments one’s own egoic desires must die back, become pruned like a vine or shorn like a lamb; one must become small again like a child in service to the inner life’s mastery and its space where her dark blossoming may bring new likeness into bloom and fruits in fleshed soul-making.

HEART FELT :: FELT HEART

MY VALENTINE

romantic sot
besotted felt
with cheer


©2015 Oddly Heart Felt Journey stephaniepope mythopoetry.com
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