Celestichthys

Calliope, through the flame
Of inspiration, make me tame
Before the wild, unnerving blame
Brought by this wordy poet’s game.

Calliope, carve the mold
Of ancient stories yet untold
As by the hand I long to hold
The unseen answers all unfold.

Calliope, craft the sword
Which cuts in half my mental gourd
Unleashing seeds to fill the ford
Where I am washed in your accord.

Calliope, bring the pain
Reminding me to not abstain
When words intruding my domain
Erupt from sullen clouds as rain.

Calliope, shine the light
On heroes; villains; pardons; plight
Amidst the daunting warrior’s might
While staring down his darkest night.

Calliope, forge with heat
The bitter anthems soft and sweet
Resounding in each color’s pleat
Composing beauty from your feet.

Calliope, tune the knife
Corrupting all my heart with strife
Intent to take a deadened life
Infusing meaning as my wife.

Calliope, sculpt the clay
Akin to building every day
The newness from the amber’s fray
Atop my fired and tattered bay.

Calliope, twist and turn
Completeness in its fettered burn
Beneath the deep, divided urn
Where all my soulful longings yearn.

Calliope, bleed me dry
Until the wings I need to fly
Distort the misanthropic high
Behind the view of each brown eye.

Calliope, haunt my soul
Until an epic makes its goal
To grasp my lungs and take control
Of every breath born black as coal.

Calliope, be my ghost
And unseen symbol, I your host,
Intoxicating me the most,
The glass I raise to you in toast.

Calliope, bear my weight
Amid this hour growing late
Full knowing my enfeebled state
Claims you as well to be my Fate.

Calliope, purge and cleanse
Each measure of my earthly sins
Between each line this poet pens
Distorting evil as it grins.

Calliope, feel my love
And know the heavens high above
Could not contain its vast reprove
For I am hand and you are glove.

Calliope, bend and shape
This epic poem’s drooping nape
To place around my neckline’s drape
The hanging notion of escape.

Calliope, free at last
Confusion’s plagiaristic cast
Defining legend’s sacred mast
When out to sea the waves lull past.

Calliope, turn your stare
For raven language colors hair
Surrounding eyes of mystic’s flare
As ends my epic poem’s dare.

James Matthew Byers is a published author(Grecian Rune, 2004) and a father of two. James has been married to his wife, Dorothea, for seven years. Mr. Byers teaches 8th Grade English at Moody Junior High. He resides with his family and two cats in Rainbow City.

Find more by James Matthew Byers in the Author Index.

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