stigmaticman
Active Member
Here is the start of a poem I'm working on. It's the story of Cupid and Psyche, only in my own words. I've never read the actual work of literature, but I've read others' take on it. Here is my effort, but in poetic verse.
Act 1: The Privilege of Young Love
Canto I: The Dawn of Love
In a time passed so many years ago,
Lived a great king, who’s kingdom was well-known,
For he had three chaste daughters, one which was
Said to be blessed with such grace, that an aura
Rested above her head, as if somehow
The Sun itself had its splendor bestowed.
O’, that I were to speak of beauty, such
As is found when gazing upon the young
Maid Psyche, for no word seems proper fit,
Nor could give mention that can elicit
The enamor one felt when in her presence,
To many men, even Venus was second
In stature when it came to sheer beauty,
Seeing the Goddess’ temples were empty,
The admirers having gone in pursuit
Of this miraculously stunning youth.
Large crowds would gather, coming many miles
From the surrounding countries, all the while
Gathering wild flowers, laying them at her feet
As she walked by, their hopes of being seen.
In fact, her fame was such, that any real
Suitors, at least of noble name and royal
Birth, had gone on in pursuit of maidens
They deemed to be far more attainable,
For they all looked upon the fair maid Psyche
As a prize, which to hold was highly unlikely.
So, the young princess lay without a prince,
All the while jealous anger burned within
The heart of Venus, the Goddess of Love,
Who sat there seething, watching from above,
As men paid homage to a mere mortal.
Indignant, her anger tinged voice sprung forth,
“Who is this, who would dare take my place in
The hearts of men!? To this I must put end!
For my divine aspects are no longer praised,
And my own temples left to but decay!
This little wretch, will see need to repent
Once she receives a new fate as a gift!”
With this the Goddess sent for her son Cupid,
Angelic, winged and proud, mischievous youth,
Who was well known for his erotic arrows
That drove men mad with love yet unaware
That any spell had somehow befell them,
And this was just what sly Venus wanted.
Then, with her son now by her side, she said,
As she was pointing out the young lass,
“My son, you have always been by my side,
But that brazen twit‘s been a thorn in mine,
To the entire world, I’ve become nothing,
Now, I shall say, that girl ought to be humbled.
Do me a favor, help me be avenged,
Pray, make her burn with passion for a serpent!”
With that, young Cupid took wing, flying to
His mother’s gardens with haste, where stood two
Fountains. One flowed with but the sweetest water
Of saccharin, the other brought forth bitter
Water as if it were made of wormwood,
But each fountain’s substance brought about moods,
And Cupid thought that either would be fitting,
So he took two empty flasks and then filled them,
One of each source, but both with ill intentions,
Then off he flew, to Psyche’s habitations.
And with the early morning’s light, came Cupid
In through her window, where she lay in view.
As he crept slowly up beside her bed,
He gently placed his hand beside her head,
Upon first sight, young Cupid was yet moved,
Almost to tears, of what he was to do,
For such a face, he thought, must belong to
Someone with such a beautiful soul too.
But knowing, still, what must be done, he dipped
His finger in the bitter water, then,
So gently rubbed it on her waiting lips,
Just then, she gave a quiet sigh and whispered,
As if from some pleasant dream being spoken,
And Cupid thought maybe she had awoken.
Cupid quickly and silently brought forth
The arrow, holding it near, but before
He could prick her, she had opened her eyes,
Almost as if she had sensed something nigh,
Although invisible, young Cupid trembled,
And as he looked into her eyes, fumbled
The arrow, but unbeknownst to himself,
He somehow ended up pricking himself,
Yet had pulled back in time, before catching
Her skin, her heart never having been lit.
Then, suddenly, something leapt in his heart,
And he couldn’t do her such deed and then part,
Hoping it would get rid of the bitter,
Of which before he had rubbed on her lips,
He grabbed the bottle that held the sweet water,
Unstopped it, and poured it over her hair.
With that, young Cupid decided to leave,
But alighted in the window as he
Cast one last glance at the rousing Psyche,
Who had just slayed the heart of the mighty.
And Psyche, knowing not what had just happened,
Rose and headed towards the window in laughter.
Then off flew Cupid, a new love on his mind,
And he said to himself, 'Love is divine!'
Canto I: The Dawn of Love
In a time passed so many years ago,
Lived a great king, who’s kingdom was well-known,
For he had three chaste daughters, one which was
Said to be blessed with such grace, that an aura
Rested above her head, as if somehow
The Sun itself had its splendor bestowed.
O’, that I were to speak of beauty, such
As is found when gazing upon the young
Maid Psyche, for no word seems proper fit,
Nor could give mention that can elicit
The enamor one felt when in her presence,
To many men, even Venus was second
In stature when it came to sheer beauty,
Seeing the Goddess’ temples were empty,
The admirers having gone in pursuit
Of this miraculously stunning youth.
Large crowds would gather, coming many miles
From the surrounding countries, all the while
Gathering wild flowers, laying them at her feet
As she walked by, their hopes of being seen.
In fact, her fame was such, that any real
Suitors, at least of noble name and royal
Birth, had gone on in pursuit of maidens
They deemed to be far more attainable,
For they all looked upon the fair maid Psyche
As a prize, which to hold was highly unlikely.
So, the young princess lay without a prince,
All the while jealous anger burned within
The heart of Venus, the Goddess of Love,
Who sat there seething, watching from above,
As men paid homage to a mere mortal.
Indignant, her anger tinged voice sprung forth,
“Who is this, who would dare take my place in
The hearts of men!? To this I must put end!
For my divine aspects are no longer praised,
And my own temples left to but decay!
This little wretch, will see need to repent
Once she receives a new fate as a gift!”
With this the Goddess sent for her son Cupid,
Angelic, winged and proud, mischievous youth,
Who was well known for his erotic arrows
That drove men mad with love yet unaware
That any spell had somehow befell them,
And this was just what sly Venus wanted.
Then, with her son now by her side, she said,
As she was pointing out the young lass,
“My son, you have always been by my side,
But that brazen twit‘s been a thorn in mine,
To the entire world, I’ve become nothing,
Now, I shall say, that girl ought to be humbled.
Do me a favor, help me be avenged,
Pray, make her burn with passion for a serpent!”
With that, young Cupid took wing, flying to
His mother’s gardens with haste, where stood two
Fountains. One flowed with but the sweetest water
Of saccharin, the other brought forth bitter
Water as if it were made of wormwood,
But each fountain’s substance brought about moods,
And Cupid thought that either would be fitting,
So he took two empty flasks and then filled them,
One of each source, but both with ill intentions,
Then off he flew, to Psyche’s habitations.
And with the early morning’s light, came Cupid
In through her window, where she lay in view.
As he crept slowly up beside her bed,
He gently placed his hand beside her head,
Upon first sight, young Cupid was yet moved,
Almost to tears, of what he was to do,
For such a face, he thought, must belong to
Someone with such a beautiful soul too.
But knowing, still, what must be done, he dipped
His finger in the bitter water, then,
So gently rubbed it on her waiting lips,
Just then, she gave a quiet sigh and whispered,
As if from some pleasant dream being spoken,
And Cupid thought maybe she had awoken.
Cupid quickly and silently brought forth
The arrow, holding it near, but before
He could prick her, she had opened her eyes,
Almost as if she had sensed something nigh,
Although invisible, young Cupid trembled,
And as he looked into her eyes, fumbled
The arrow, but unbeknownst to himself,
He somehow ended up pricking himself,
Yet had pulled back in time, before catching
Her skin, her heart never having been lit.
Then, suddenly, something leapt in his heart,
And he couldn’t do her such deed and then part,
Hoping it would get rid of the bitter,
Of which before he had rubbed on her lips,
He grabbed the bottle that held the sweet water,
Unstopped it, and poured it over her hair.
With that, young Cupid decided to leave,
But alighted in the window as he
Cast one last glance at the rousing Psyche,
Who had just slayed the heart of the mighty.
And Psyche, knowing not what had just happened,
Rose and headed towards the window in laughter.
Then off flew Cupid, a new love on his mind,
And he said to himself, 'Love is divine!'