“A gloomy guest
fits not a wedding feast.” - Friedrich Schiller
This week, Poetry Jam is celebrating festivities, festivals and feasts. Participants must produce a poem that is 35 lines or less pertaining to some aspect of the theme. Here is my contribution:
The Harvest Feast
Come, let us strew the marble threshing floor
With pungent rue and thyme, sweet marjoram.
Let us abandon us to the wild rhythm of the drum
And the shrill melody of fife.
In golden chariot, Apollo up above
Will make us drunk with his sweet wine,
And we two shall dance on frenziedly
Till from exhaustion we are forced to stop.
Come then, let us lie on the sweet smelling bed
Of verdant, lush, Spring-green herbage
And intertwined, like coupling snakes,
Our mingling limbs will give gifts of caress after caress.
The parched, sun-drinking lips will cool us
With the passionate kiss’s violet fires;
Our reeling eyes shall on the rows of cypresses
Steady themselves and slowly arise.
And then the proud and haughty trees will bend,
The rustle of their branches with Bacchus-sun
Inciting even rocks to the wild madness
Of frenetic dance and of sun-crazed melody.
And we two, as one, shall laugh
And to our love-feast most munificently
Even Death invite, to come and drink with us
Sharing our boundless, inexhaustible and careless joys.
This week, Poetry Jam is celebrating festivities, festivals and feasts. Participants must produce a poem that is 35 lines or less pertaining to some aspect of the theme. Here is my contribution:
The Harvest Feast
Come, let us strew the marble threshing floor
With pungent rue and thyme, sweet marjoram.
Let us abandon us to the wild rhythm of the drum
And the shrill melody of fife.
In golden chariot, Apollo up above
Will make us drunk with his sweet wine,
And we two shall dance on frenziedly
Till from exhaustion we are forced to stop.
Come then, let us lie on the sweet smelling bed
Of verdant, lush, Spring-green herbage
And intertwined, like coupling snakes,
Our mingling limbs will give gifts of caress after caress.
The parched, sun-drinking lips will cool us
With the passionate kiss’s violet fires;
Our reeling eyes shall on the rows of cypresses
Steady themselves and slowly arise.
And then the proud and haughty trees will bend,
The rustle of their branches with Bacchus-sun
Inciting even rocks to the wild madness
Of frenetic dance and of sun-crazed melody.
And we two, as one, shall laugh
And to our love-feast most munificently
Even Death invite, to come and drink with us
Sharing our boundless, inexhaustible and careless joys.
ah festivals do carry the wild rhythm
ReplyDeleteand the frenzy for sure...some of those old festivals
like th baachus would have been a bit crazy i imagine
like a rave now...
Love where you went with this, Nicholas.
ReplyDeleteCareless joy, this poem is a rapture of joy and revelry. Really enjoy it.
ReplyDeleteThis echoes of the old masters! Brilliant!
ReplyDeleteFun to visit a Greek festival. Our local Greek Orthodox Church has a Greek festival each year and I have not gone, but perhaps I should check it out.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed all of the detail in this poem, Nick. I can feel the wild abandon and the sensuality in this poem. Some people know how to celebrate, don't they?
ReplyDeletea vibrant word palette and an inspired “take” on the prompt.
ReplyDeletelove this passionate intoxication...the true festival spirit...a brilliant write.. :)
ReplyDeleteA bacchanalia event in good Roman orgy style (giggles)
ReplyDeleteI like how you have transported us in time, Nick. A vivid and evocative poem.
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful poem! This evokes such a strong atmosphere of wild feasting in ancient times and the feelings of carnal love are well expressed.
ReplyDeleteVery earthy and sensual evocation of an ancient feast. Great read!
ReplyDeleteExcellent piece, reminiscent of the ancient poets
ReplyDelete