I’m sharing another poem today. Style wise this isn’t the type of poem I usually write. I don’t recall the name of the style because it was part of a course I took at Uni, but I’m more a fan of four line stanzas and rhyming couplets. Still I wanted to share it with you because I rather like how the poem turned out.
Persephone has always been my favourite Greek Goddess and her tales are starting to become more popular, especially among neo-pagan witches. Lately, I’ve seen people making comments on social media discussing how Hades was the only Olympian King who was actually faithful to his wife.
According to myth this simply isn’t true. Myths about Hades and Persephone usually focus on the core myth “The Rape of Persephone” which discusses Hades abduction of the spring goddess Kore. When Kore becomes Queen of the Underworld she takes on the name Persephone. There are only a couple others that I know of which feature Persephone. There’s the myth of Adonis, in which Persephone and Aphrodite fight over the affection of the human hero Adonis, there’s the myth of Theseus and Pirithous who decide to abduct Helen (later of Sparta and Troy) and Persephone for their wives, and lastly the myth of Minthe. According to myth, Minthe was a nymph who had an affair with Hades. When Persephone found out she transformed the nymph into the plant we now call Mint.
Olympian gods being unfaithful to their wives is pretty standard in Greek mythology. Still, this poem is written from the point of view of Persephone, and is about how she feels in the wake of Hades betrayal.
Anger, A Tribute to Persephone
By B. Forrester
I know now how she felt.
The Grecian Queen of heaven;
understand the hand she was dealt.
He thinks I do not know,
his mistress – her scent of skunk,
she is forever now my foe.
He betrayed my trust,
His hands, his eyes, they wandered far,
I thought he loved me; it was lust
Ignorant is something I am not,
my lungs they scream blackest bile,
and now I’ll leave him here to rot.
My Blood, the river called Styx,
heated waters of hate and malice,
I’ve had enough of his wretched tricks.
B. Forrester 