Posts Tagged ‘Eros’


Porphyry – On Images – fragment 8

November 25, 2009

‘The whole power productive of water they called Oceanus, and named its symbolic figure Tethys. But of the whole, the drinking-water produced is called Achelous; and the sea-water Poseidon; while again that which makes the sea, inasmuch as it is productive, is Amphitrite. Of the sweet waters the particular powers are called Nymphs, and those of the sea-waters Nereids.

Again, the power of fire they called Hephaestus, and have made his image in the form of a man, but put on it a blue cap as a symbol of the revolution of the heavens, because the archetypal and purest form of fire is there. But the fire brought down from heaven to earth is less intense, and wants the strengthening and support which is found in matter: wherefore he is lame, as needing matter to support him.

Also they supposed a power of this kind to belong to the sun and called it Apollo, from the pulsation of his beams. There are also nine Muses singing to his lyre, which are the sublunar sphere, and seven spheres of the planets, and one of the fixed stars. And they crowned him with laurel, partly because the plant is full of fire, and therefore hated by daemons; and partly because it crackles in burning, to represent the god’s prophetic art.

But inasmuch as the sun wards off the evils of the earth, they called him Heracles (from his clashing against the air) in passing from east to west. And they invented fables of his performing twelve labours, as the symbol of the division of the signs of the zodiac in heaven; and they arrayed him with a club and a lion’s skin, the one as an indication of his uneven motion, and the other representative of his strength in “Leo” the sign of the zodiac.

Of the sun’s healing power Asclepius is the symbol, and to him they have given the staff as a sign of the support and rest of the sick, and the serpent is wound round it, as significant of his preservation of body and soul: for the animal is most full of spirit, and shuffles off the weakness of the body. It seems also to have a great faculty for healing: for it found the remedy for giving clear sight, and is said in a legend to know a certain plant which restores life.

But the fiery power of his revolving and circling motion, whereby he ripens the crops, is called Dionysus, not in the same sense as the power which produces the juicy fruits, but either from the sun’s rotation, or from his completing his orbit in the heaven. And whereas he revolves round the cosmical seasons and is the maker of “times and tides,” the sun is on this account called Horus.

Of his power over agriculture, whereon depend the gifts of wealth, the symbol is Pluto. He has, however, equally the power of destroying, on which account they make Sarapis share the temple of Pluto: and the purple tunic they make the symbol of the light that has sunk beneath the earth, and the sceptre broken at the top that of his power below, and the posture of the hand the symbol of his departure into the unseen world.

Cerberus is represented with three heads, because the positions of the sun above the earth are three-rising, midday, and setting.

The moon, conceived according to her brightness, they called Artemis, as it were, “cutting the air.” And Artemis, though herself a virgin, presides over childbirth, because the power of the new moon is helpful to parturition.

What Apollo is to the sun, that Athena is to the moon: for the moon is a symbol of wisdom, and so a kind of Athena.

But, again, the moon is Hecate, the symbol of her varying phases and of her power dependent on the phases. Wherefore her power appears in three forms, having as symbol of the new moon the figure in the white robe and golden sandals, and torches lighted: the basket, which she bears when she has mounted high, is the symbol of the cultivation of the crops, which she makes to grow up according to the increase of her light: and again the symbol of the full moon is the goddess of the brazen sandals.

Or even from the branch of olive one might infer her fiery nature, and from the poppy her productiveness, and the multitude of the souls who find an abode in her as in a city, for the poppy is an emblem of a city. She bears a bow, like Artemis, because of the sharpness of the pangs of labour.

And, again, the Fates are referred to her powers, Clotho to the generative, and Lachesis to the nutritive, and Atropos to the inexorable will of the deity.

Also, the power productive of corn-crops, which is Demeter, they associate with her, as producing power in her. The moon is also a supporter of Kore. They set Dionysus also beside her, both on account of their growth of horns, and because of the region of clouds lying beneath the lower world.

The power of Kronos they perceived to be sluggish and slow and cold, and therefore attributed to him the power of time: and they figure him standing, and grey-headed, to indicate that time is growing old.

The Curetes, attending on Chronos, are symbols of the seasons, because time journeys on through seasons.

Of the Hours, some are the Olympian, belonging to the sun, which also open the gates in the air: and others are earthly, belonging to Demeter, and hold a basket, one symbolic of the flowers of spring, and the other of the wheat-ears of summer.

The power of Ares they perceived to be fiery, and represented it as causing war and bloodshed, and capable both of harm and benefit.

The star of Aphrodite they observed as tending to fecundity, being the cause of desire and offspring, and represented it as a woman because of generation, and as beautiful, because it is also the evening star-

“Hesper, the fairest star that shines in heaven.” [Homer, Iliad 22:318]

And Eros they set by her because of desire. She veils her breasts and other parts, because their power is the source of generation and nourishment. She comes from the sea, a watery element, and warm, and in constant movement, and foaming because of its commotion, whereby they intimate the seminal power.

Hermes is the representative of reason and speech, which both accomplish and interpret all things. The phallic Hermes represents vigour, but also indicates the generative law that pervades all things.

Further, reason is composite: in the sun it is called Hermes; in the moon Hecate; and that which is in the All Hermopan, for the generative and creative reason extends over all things. Hermanubis also is composite, and as it were half Greek, being found among the Egyptians also. Since speech is also connected with the power of love, Eros represents this power: wherefore Eros is represented as the son of Hermes, but as an infant, because of his sudden impulses of desire.

They made Pan the symbol of the universe, and gave him his horns as symbols of sun and moon, and the fawn skin as emblem of the stars in heaven, or of the variety of the universe.’


Euripedes – Hippolytus – Aphrodite and Eros

November 25, 2009

‘O Love, Love, that from the eyes diffusest soft desire, bringing on the souls of those, whom thou dost camp against, sweet grace, O never in evil mood appear to me, nor out of time and tune approach! Nor fire nor meteor hurls a mightier bolt than Aphrodite’s shaft shot by the hands of Love, the child of Zeus.

Idly, idly by the streams of Alpheus and in the Pythian shrines of Phoebus, Hellas heaps the slaughtered steers; while Love we worship not, Love, the king of men, who holds the key to Aphrodite’s sweetest bower,-worship not him who, when he comes, lays waste and marks his path to mortal hearts by wide-spread woe.’


Nossis’ Epigrams – Aphrodite

November 25, 2009

(PALAT. ANT. BOOK V – 170)
Nothing is sweeter than Love; and every other joy
is second to it: even the honey I spit out of my mouth.
Thus Nossis says: and who didn’t love Kypris,
doesn’t know what sort of roses her flowers are.

With pleasure Aphrodite received the lovable offering
of the small bonnet which wound the head of Samyta:
It’s really of exquisite workmanship and it gently smells of the nectar
with which the goddess sprinkles the handsome Adonis.

Arrived in front of the temple we gaze at this statue of Aphrodite
embellished by a dress embroidered with gold.
Polyarchis offered it, having made out a large fortune
from the beauty of her own body.

In the temple of the blonde Aphrodite Kallò dedicated this picture
painted with a portrait exactly alike her.
What a tidy attitude! And which grace pervades her!
Hail! Of all your life nothing could be blamed.

More here.


Short – The Erotes

November 13, 2009

The lovely, dove-winged Erotes spend countless
Hazy summer hours dancing with their
Golden, smiling mother. At her command,
They fling out armfuls of shimmering love.


Short – Eros

November 12, 2009

Eros’ beauty is eternal; he moves
With the fluidity of youth. Laughter
Shines on his lips; love lingers in his bright
Eyes, pulsing with unexpressed desire.



October 15, 2009

A kiss: the linger
Of fingers on smooth,
So-sensitive skin.
Love, bright as a bruise,
Something that smiles with
Too many teeth and
Says, I was here,
And I loved this girl.


Read Write Prompt #19

October 11, 2009

Read Write Prompt #19: Go Green!

Eros to Psykhe.

The desert sands still bear the mark of my
Feet; the ice caps still burn, though I am no
Longer there. I am here, I am with you.

The earth longs for me, for the pulse of my
Heat, my burn, my love. The sky, too, delights
In my presence – but I am with you, here.


Read Write Prompt #18

October 11, 2009

Read Write Prompt #18: See Things Differently 1: Be A Tree


First: the skin.
Dry now, only wet when the
Of rain, rain, begins to fall.

Cold nights, hot days.
Silence never there,
Rustling leaves, falling twigs.
Can anyone hear me?

Him. He, He, He.
He’s there. He’s here.
I can feel him, I can smell him.
Apollon. Want to kiss me now?

Lips hard, heavy, dirty.
Some animal skitters over, claws burn.
Want to cry. Want to turn away.
Can’t. Can’t move think speak hello, hello, hello?

Can anyone hear me?
Do not want. Want – to be a tree.
Eros, cruel boy, look now, look now.
Apollon – help? Help me?

Can you
Can hear me
You can
Can you hear me?



Read Write Prompt #3

October 8, 2009

Read Write Prompt #3: Play With Your Pieces
Aphrodite – Body, Love, Hate.

I first knew myself in the beginning,
When the world was still young and fresh, glowing
Like a red rose, lit from within. It was
My task to stoke that gentle burn, to whip
It into madness, frenzy and chaos.
But it did not begin like that, and I
Have to wonder if it would have ever
Become what it is now if not for me.

I met Nerites on the ocean floor.
Sand stuck to my feet; he kissed away the
Salt that burned my lips – already aching.
I told him I loved him, and the kosmos
Gleamed in the golden dawn of Love: frantic,
Winged, beating in my summer-gold veins.
He smiled, kissed me again, and promised to
Stay with me forever, if I let him.

Perhaps not. I swam to the shore alone,
My heart was light; but my mind was heavy.
He didn’t want me – he made that clear, so
I left him at the bottom of the sea,
A spiral now, a seashell, a shellfish.
He’s like the creatures he’d choose to play with,
Rather than accompanying me to
The heavens. But it doesn’t matter now.


Read Write Prompt #1

October 7, 2009

Read Write Prompt #1: In A Sentence.
American Sentences – one sentence, 17 syllables, direct observation.

Wolf-boy, coyote smile – are you here to take me away from this hell?

Love: glorious in the summer sun, framed by white and caramel-smiles.

Blood runs through shallow graves; water doesn’t stop, tears always fall; he smiles.

Picture perfect, perfumed air; red and gold; sex, energy, desire.

Flip a page, start again; fresh day, fresh smile, fresh love; there’s nothing better.

Spinning, laughing, mad girl, wild child; stop pointing that bloody gun at me.

Silver threads, connect the dots; fire your arrow, watch the cities burn.

Skins itch, veins burn; croon to the air as the black doves take flight everywhere.

Flash-fire, wild boy; did you know that your soft lips are as gold as your skin?

Spread your feathers, beautiful birds; dance for your queen – she watches you now.

Skimming over clouds, planning mischief; is there anything more perfect?

Spit flies, dribbles down; chain-check, too-tight; muscles burn, fire starts – she screams.

Her lips are painted with need; the flush of longing streams over her skin.

Love: catch it in your hands, dandelion clock, before it blows away.

The earth is yours: she rumbles, pulses and thrums beneath you, smiling queen.

The moon does not care for you; she laughs at your ideas of romance.