#eo poem

[l3l-diving-service]

To My Dearest Sister | Poetry | Endless Ocean 2 | G | Player Character | AO3

[ianfillinger]

“Upward, into myth—

The ceiling of the McGraw Rotunda feels less like a room and more like a whispered story, half-remembered, told in clouds and gold.

How many have passed beneath this sky and never looked up?”

(Taken inside the New York Public Library. A quiet moment with the gods.)

[eos-dazzle]

TW// Gender dysphoria

just a poem I wrote the other day while bored at my grandma's house

Aurora

Everyday he walks in the shade

Broad shoulders, deep voice

Loved, praised, brown eyes

Whole existence is a falsehood

An impossible to defy falsehood

He wants not the blue shell

But he is happy wearing it

But he thinks he is happy wearing it

The Star of Dawn

Eos, my shining light

Everyday she walks alongside him

Her light darkened by his shell

His loved, accepted shell

Let his shell break

Let her be free

For they are one and the same

For when the shade of him fades

Aurora remains

[happenstanced]

Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly;

Their beauty shakes me who was once serene;

Straight through my heart the wound is quick and keen.

[twilightthefoxicorn]

Land of the Free

Most people know of the USA as the “Land of the Free,”

a country that’s home of “the brave.”

According to some, though, this comes at a fee.

A slap in the face to many who gave

their life for this country, wouldn’t you agree?

We have the right of freedom of speech,

a right I’ll use to make known the sad truth.

Morality is dead, according to those is power, to many that preach.

They say this country is rather uncouth,

that our way of life must be eradicated, they beseech.

They use their platforms to attack those like me

who live a different way of life than they would like.

They say we’re a blight, that society shouldn’t see,

as they view us as far from God-like.

They say they don’t hate us, but I’ll have to disagree.

“It’s unnatural!” they say,

for us to be true to who we are.

That being trans or gay

is a sin, is wrong, is bizarre.

And if we’re public about who we are, we should pay.

Pay with our blood,

or at least that’s what it seems.

Many laws they pass through the system in a flood,

all to enact their numerous schemes.

They love dragging our names through the mud.

No regard for who they hurt,

as long as they can remain in power, in control.

Many of us have been buried in the dirt

as their hatred has taken its toll.

They just can’t stand “a man in a skirt.”

The laws they pass do hurt, indeed,

but they’ll never get the end result they want.

You see, they may want us to plead, to bleed,

to feel hopeless, to despair as they taunt.

The thing they don’t realize is they’ll never succeed.

We’ve always existed, we’ve been here long as time.

They may kill us, break us, make us flee,

take our rights away in the daytime, the nighttime,

but they can’t erase us, for we are free.

Free to be us, whether they call it a crime.

We’ll always be here; this is a fact.

Young and old, we’re here to stay.

They try to hide how we have made an impact

throughout history, our day-to-day way.

We’ll always be here, and it leaves them gobsmacked.

So whether they try to erase us out of existence

or prevent us from being with the ones we love,

just remember that our very being is an act of resistance.

They may try to wear us down, but they’ll never get rid of

us, as we’ll be here, always, in coexistence.

[corvianbard]

#6152

Eos, the first light of every morning, Herald of the sun that is always glimmering, Illuminate our way to a new beginning.

[ettieektos]

An excerpt from a draft; Eos and Astraeus

[the-critic-god-of-books]

You think yourself a lion amongst sheep

You think yourself king

You think yourself greater than they

But the lion

dies like the sheep

One day your claws shall dull

One day your flesh shall break from your bones

One day your mind will be

but a shadow of what it once was

Yet i will remain

For i am like the mountain

upon which the lion hunts

For i am like the field

upon which the sheep grazes

For i am immortal

For you wither

But I Change

-Eo

[bromodideuterio]

Notes app has been putting in work lately.

Siege 3/4/25

Photo: Canon EOS-1, EF 70/200mm f/2.8 L, Kodak Portra 400

[unrequitedyearning]

i usually write poems and stanza on endless piles when i was enamored or infatuated with someone previous but the likes of you take all my verse from me

i have never felt this way wholly and truly you have me wanting for nothing and yet everything

your laugh your smile your hair your hands your rambling your tears your pain your absence

i'm making myself sick with love growing madder every day every hour every minute second i'm not with you or hear your loving air that is music to my ears

i will forever regret the four periods of time spent without you and i will spend my existence yearning for a restful night together just once more

all i can hope is that you forget me not

forget me not like the soft bluish purple with sunbeams shining through center of the dawn in which i reminisce us

forget me not when the bluish purple bruise creeps yellow with healing as my chest bursts with anguish over the agony caused by failure of two parties... partners

forget me not like the bluish purple hue i wish to keep behind my eyelids as the sun dews them apart while i try to burn the vision of our dream to memory

forget me not

forget me not

forget me not

forget me not

i cannot forget you

it's agony to try

i will be icarus no longer

i will never be able to forget you

[lionofchaeronea]

A scene from the Trojan War: Achilles and the Ethiopian king Memnon, son of Eos (Dawn), clash in single combat, flanked by chariots. This combat was recounted in the Aethiopis, a now-lost poem belonging to the Epic Cycle that continued the story of the Trojan War after the Iliad and Hector's death. As often, the relationship between literature and visual art is unclear: did the vase painter deliberately set out to illustrate the Aethiopis, or did poet and painter simply draw upon the same stock of traditional oral narrative?

Attic black-figure pyxis, in the manner of the C Painter; ca. 570 BCE. Now in the Staatliche Antikensammlungen, Munich, Germany.

[artifacts-archive]

Hand Mirror

Etruscan, 470-450 BCE

Found in women’s graves, bronze mirrors were luxurious personal possessions used in life and then buried with the dead for use in the afterlife. One side was highly polished; the other side was usually engraved with a mythic scene, such as this one, which shows the goddess Eos carrying the body of her son, Memnon, who was killed by the hero Achilles. The episode was taken from Homer’s The Iliad, the epic poem that narrates the Greek siege and eventual defeat of the city of Troy.

[psychedelic-charm]

These poems are great. I wish Kevin Perjurer would create a book of poems about the defunct attractions he's talked about on Defunctland. Wouldn't that be great?

Writing an achingly tender and tragic, incredibly sincere, heartstring-pulling album about my dead lost love that I never met but I know I've loved in a thousand lifetimes, not revealing that it's actually about the Skippy animatronic that they destroyed

[zal-cryptid]

My name is Aurora, and I'm proud to be me.  🏳️‍⚧️

This was a poem I wrote when I came out back in 2021. I named myself Aurora because it was my new beginning, like the mornings ushered in by rosy-fingered Eos. Because I'm from the Great White North, where the Northern Lights dance. Because I am a princess awoken from her slumber, like Briar Rose.

Names are important to me. They hold so much power and association and meaning. They are the oldest magic.

[cinematic-literature]

Shadow of the Vampire (2000) by E. Elias Merhige

Max Schreck reads out the opening verses from Thitonus (1833) by Alfred Tennyson, a poem which retells the Greek myth of a prince of Troy who fell in love with Eos, the goddess of dawn.

He got immortality from her, but not immortal youth; that's why at the end of the poem death becomes his only wish.

[fairyboy1111]

A poem for Eos, Helios and Selene

I sing of early-born Eos, whose cloak is of sweet dew

Who runs her rosy-fingered hand trough the sky as the day begins anew

Casting away darkness and dispelling murky gloom

As the choirs of birds sing her praises and flowers get ready to bloom

Soft-winged goddess, mother of the morning star

Shining from among the clouds, smiling at the world from afar

I sing of Helios, crowned in rays, who rides trough the sky pulled by fiery steeds

From his glorious chariot he watches over mankind’s deeds

Those who do evil he punishes with red-hot rage, he burns to smoke and ash their wicked smiles

Those who do good he rewards with a gladdened heart, helping them trough their journeys as he watches over their lives

For he is the golden mirror of justice who makes all reap what they sow

Wether it be for better or for worse

His warm smile charms countless nymph’s hearts and makes trees bear fruit

As the flower-faced Horae hold hands and dance to his lyre’s tune

I sing of bull-horned Selene, nightly queen, decked in stars

She who weaves together days and makes time come to pass

Lover of peace and of tranquil sleep, a friend to dark-haired Nyx and Hypnos of the soothing voice

Morpheus and his train of countless dreams make her silver heart rejoice

Keeper of the late hours and their secrets, a companion to those who feel lost

For even in the darkest of moments she kindly stretches forth her luminous torch

I sing of you three, children of Hyperion and Theia, gods most high

Trough day and night, trough dusk and dawn, I pray that you shed light unto my path

Lucid ministers of Chronos, show me that which flees my sight

Reveal to me the worlds which exist around me and guide me trough the ones within my heart