Those whom the gods would destroy….
by Diotima Sophia
Those whom
The gods
Would destroy
These
They first drive mad
Through calamity
Or calumny
And experiences they’ve had
Of grief and loss
And life and love
For madness is rooted there
In the mind and heart
In spirit – and soul
When reality’s too much to bear
Insanity provides escape
From the world mundane
Though solace, it often lacks
But apparently
Provides us all
A reason – to turn our backs
For madness is
As madness does
There’s no hoping to understand
For the gods destroy
By making mad
The simple mind of man.
Dancing god
by Diotima Sophia
Dancing god
Laughing god
You who make armies flee
Goat footed god
Hermes’ son
Will you dance with me?
Within the city scape you find me
No daughter of the land
The daily grind entwines and binds me
Will you offer me your hand?
Even in the city streets
There’s wilderness to find
Among the stone and marble seats
Of learning and of mind
For Arcadia’s a state of mind
As well as forest dim
If I look for you, will I find
You dancing, there, within....?
Dancing god
Laughing god
Terror brought at noon
Laughing god
Dangerous god
Will you dance with me …. soon?
Arcadia’s doors
By Diotima Sophia
Arcadia opens its doors to you:
It urges
And ushers
And beckons you through
The formal and staid,
The trite and mundane
Leave behind you as dead;
Come – be insane!
For insanity’s mine
My gift to bestow
The Gods are not sane
And as above – so below
For love is not logical
Nor is it sane
Yet it conquers the strong man
Overcomes might and mien
Insanity beckons
Come – frolic with me!
The dark, goat-god beckons
Hear him – or flee
In the cry of a child
By Diotima Sophia
In the cry of a child
There is joy in life
Exuberance
And wonder
She has not yet learned that such is not welcome
At the table of the old
The mature
The adult
She is not hemmed by convention – or manners
She suffers not from what ought –
She revels in what is
And more
What could be
In the cry of the child
Hear the voice of Pan
Liminal places
By Ditima Sophia
The budding trees
The hawthorn breaks
The bracken leaves open wide
The mighty oak
Stands tall and firm
The sapling struggles by its side
The fields encroach
On the forest glade
The trees stand their ground as they can
The serried planting
Of rows of corn
Show the plans and needs of man
Between the two
The oak and the field
Between the tame and the wild
Holds sway the God
Of the liminal places
And dances, Hermes’ Child
Nether one nor the other
Neither field nor grove
The liminal places lie
In the land in between
Unsure, unknown... And there
You can hear the Great God’s cry
And so stand I
Neither wild nor tame
Between, betwixt, among
And so ripe for communion
For song and for dance
With Hermes’ joyful son
The Great God Yearns....
By Diotima Sophia
Arms that read to hold
To comfort and caress
There is no compulsion
To come – or to go – is my choice
There is no constraint
Only longing
And incomprehension
The millennia-old incomprehension
“Why don’t they see me
know me
acknowledge me?”
The runner from Marathon saw
And took the message
So that the altars were built
Will you hear the message, today?
Lament at Banias
By Diotima Sophia
They come to see
The touch of the god
Beside the cave and fire
The bring their gifts
Of sacrifice
They bring their staid desires
“A working hand” “A mended back”
“My legs be strong and true”
And these I grant
But more, I crave
The few...
Who know the cost
And count it dear
But balk not at the price
For what I would heal
Is humanity
Come – let me show you – life
A life well-lived
In joy and pain
Throw off the binding chains
Throw off the rules
Throw off the thoughts
Till only – you – remain
Be mad with me
And dance, and leap
By Panic, be you found
The goat-foot god
The healing god
Pipes a maenad sound
Be healed
If you will
If that will satisfy
But for those of you
Fore those fair few
Who grasp the wings to fly
Seek healing not
But brokenness
And Panic – pain, and strife
For only then
And only so
Will you understand this life
Saltless meat
Is thin, sour wine
The spice, is food indeed
Come dance with me
Says the goat foot god
As he plays upon the reed
The great god Pan they called me then
And feared, themselves, to be...
There are few who may
Fewer still, who will
Now come – will you – dance with me?
To Pan
by Samantha Frye
Haunting meadows, Ekho whispering across the valley fertile,
Wild-eyed nymphs flee in laughing sport from Pan double horned.
Beloved of all the deathless gods, wild-crowned son of Epimelios,
The prankish-loving, shepherd-adoring, nymphs play just beyond,
The wily, goat-hooved god whom vigilant shepherds adore!
Sing with charmed delight, Muses all. To this son come and gather,
To the far-sprung meadows, amogn the lonely speckled hills,
Butterflies flutter and in gust air play, little dancers spinning.
Dionysos perhaps does not rest too far, whose company Pan adores,
For he can be oftenfound at the side of the vine-wreathed laughing lord.
Hail Pan, hail Nomios, at the forest edge, grassy hills and moutain
embrace,
Great haunter of your rich terrestrial domain, your pipes hidden sing.
As you drive the wooly bleating herds, Phorbas, panic you drive.
Wildly, crashing through, panic takes wing before your risen staff.
Perhaps it is credit due to your pipes and their ghostly singing tune,
What laughing delight you take in the rushed andorphines of fright,
That causes men to strip away the civilized, and dart about like beasts.
Wild-maned, craggy-browed, a curving smile, a mocking grin,
Kindly bountiful god, Agrotas, ladden with the earth's great wealth,
Oh how the Earth smiles at your antics, and with laughter shakes,
For the pracing lifting gate as you dance in Bacchid celebration!
But to her gift you do acclaim, and at your cave wisely speak.
Barley and Water
By Diotima Sophia
Clear water – clean hands
An
unburdened heart
Barley harvested and
thrown
As I
cast my desire before you
A libation poured
A life
– poured out
Hear me, Lord of the
wild
Hear me,
Pan
Pan's Mistakes
by Phillupus
With Daphnis his love he'd indulge
while the syrinx's skill he'd divulge;
when boy was blinded
by nymph, reminded
was Pan of his passionate bulge.
Hermaphroditos was surprise
to the goat-god's sex-addled eyes,
with breasts of Venus
but the male genus
Pan fled from those exquisite thighs.
With Herakles Pan, mistaken,
panicked, consumed with fear, shaken;
in Omphale's dress
Pan's plans were a mess
when hero's arse wasn't taken.
It seems very petty to gloat
(for one who's not horny like goat)
with Pan--too willing
in lusts' fulfilling--
if love's just known in what I wrote.
Hymn to Pan
by Rebecca Buchanan
I sing of Pan
Curly Beard
Lover of Nymphs and Naiads
Piper
Dancer
The whole immortal host
Delights in your sweet sounds and skillful steps
(after an anonymous inscription found
at Epidauros)
To Goat-Footed Pan
by Amanda Blake
Goat-footed Pan, I sing
Lusty satyr, son of Hermes
(or sometimes Zeus Himself)
Chaser of women,
Inspirer of panic
Who haunts the wild places of the world
Ithyphallic one,
Lover of Bakkhos's vine,
And of subtle nymphs.
The dancing God
Playing His flute.
God of shepherds,
The bearded one.
Horned God,
Hear my prayer
Expansive spirit of the wilderness
Grant me the freedom
The joy
That fills Your heart.
