Modern Myths

Learn more about other poetry terms

There is a beauty in the souls Aphrodite could see. She could not understand how They could not see it themselves.   It saddened her, The goddess of beauty The goddess of love,
Drip, drip, drop, drop goes the rain falling down outside Everything is calm in the small towm  When soon comes a heavy sigh  In the window a face appears, along with a little girl who hair is brown  
Long ago and far faded, into the abyss, dust of Norse culture, the Kraken still lives.   The far fetched horror, shed its slimy shield, for metal hull, and explosive yield.  
i think i was 11 when a stranger first asked where i hid my money it was a cold winter day you could see your breath sway and stay as the snow flew your way i glanced back at his face
They all ask, so go ahead.  She always knows it's coming.   "How does it feel?" It's always snickered, under breath. Like the brittle bones of their cowardice
Like the father, the son stands strong and tall. Responsible for the world, their similar broad shoulders hold it all. Oh, the popular Apollo, our school's biggest star.
  Let me tell you the story Of a myth not known for glory,  Of an idea that has been forgotten And replaced with something rotten.  
Hera sits on a tall silver stool at Cafe of Gods As Dionysus places a warm mug of cappuccino before her “I delivered nine newborns into this world today, what are the odds.
The video loads Slower than a snail But once it does,  You wish it hadn't   "Hey guys! It's me, Apollo,
Another day. Another stone Another potential boyfriend gone  Meeting face to face won't work for me  Because those I meet tend to freeze
Storms and rain race thy heart Chasing typhoons day to day Quickly Poseidon must depart Whirling winds are his prey   Gales slowly whirling around Whistling rushing past his ear
The Midgard Serpent stirs slightly in his slumber A long and unsatisfying rest that has lasted since the days of Thor and WotenWhen the halls were vast and the Valkeryies washed blood from their armor that wasn’t their own
they say he died of drowning because the wax of his wings melted. but that isn't true. he died from the cold. the ice gripped and clawed at his wings weighing them down
I wasn't vain before, It wasn't my beauty that brought fear and hope. Not my lips or eyes that captured the hearts of men, but the beat of my wings.
Deep below the Earth's surface, Fire erupts into gulfs of flames. A castle of obsidian awaits The arrival of the King Back from the human world. In his arms is a girl with the gift
The old gods were so used to being the center of attention but these days they receive almost none. Oh, how they try and fail to stay relevant in an age where we no longer need the sun.
Chronos was a god. A father. One who destroyed his daughters and sons in a fit of fury. Swallowed them up like the gargantuan terror Of ill and disease
She calls to me Her sweet melody Sweeping through the aisles I hear her song Ringing in my ears Her voice so angelic She calls to me As she belts her tune And I am on the edge of my seat
Oh? Who is that there? That beautiful person, Yes, you, gorgeous. Perfection, I love you; I love…myself. Yes me 
  “You’re not supposed to be doing that.” His feet are in the seat of the swing, Grub fingers squirmed around chains, pitching back And forth like a marionette on breaking strings.  
Everywhere I go, she always seemed to be there  I just can’t seem to shake off the little girl  Her bright blonde hair in pigtails and eyes filled with excitement and determination 
Must we live like Gilgamesh Inbetween gasps of sorrow Looking tirelessly For our loves Lost   How many times might we mock openly The will of gods Even if they do not
Curly black hair  drapes around shoulders  flowers entertwined within locks protection?  Bright red lips  a smile is worth a thousand words  Her smile lights up the room  An invitation? 
Modern Artemis goes out with girls on lithe motorcycles wears leather exudes power silently dares men to call her dyke owns space with a confidence that ties their tongues Plays barroom archer
‘Modern Myths’ Driving to the rim with raw fury, Ares, the god of war, scores yet again.The Greek god of war, yes, but also the god of basketball.
Eris was always a troubled child.  Mama always told her she was built from  Chaos          Strife  And all things wild.  Born alone in the dark of the night, To her dad already well and gone...
The Loch Ness monster of today Nessie is what she’s called She is very upset with us Disappointed in us all We trashed her Scottish lake Polluted the air, water, and trees
Subscribe to Modern Myths