“His arms are home. And I’m so homesick.” 

      — (via dalecooperwrites)
“Mother, he is a gentleman.
He is a builder with bricks of moonlight.
He knows the secret places of the earth.
He washes the sleep from the eyes of the souls.
He lets them look on beauty.
He lets them tell him they hate him.
In the mornings, I gather berries and apples.
I scrub his back with rind.
I weave spider-spit, eyelash.
He talks in his sleep pudding, fire, discus,
the things he misses.
He breathes, Your body is my orchard.
I am undulating grass.
I am a field of wheat he parts with his fingers.
Poppies bloom in my veins.
When he kisses me, he tastes pomegranate.
The night crawls nearer.
The moans of the dead roll and swell.
Mother, we are well.”
 

      — Persephone Writes to Her Mother, Tara Mae Mulroy (via fishnetsandmaliceaforethought)
“Be to her, Persephone,
All the things I might not be;
Take her head upon your knee.
She that was so proud and wild,
Flippant, arrogant, and free,
She that had no need of me,
Is a lonely little child
Lost in Hell, - Persephone,
Take her head upon your knee;
Say to her, “My dear, my dear,
It is not so dreadful here.””
 

      — Prayer to Persephone, Edna St. Vincent Millay (via essentialtremor)

I asked Persephone, “How could you grow to love him? He took you from flowers to a kingdom where not a single living thing can grow.”


Persephone smiled, “My darling, every flower on your earth withers. What Hades gave me was a crown made for the immortal flowers in my bones.”

 

      — Nikita Gill, Conversations With Persephone (via meanwhilepoetry)
“Every soul pretends
That she’s sunshine
That he’s the dark night
And somehow 
They collided
But wouldn’t it be funny
If people could understand
That she
Was just as tarnished as he
Or that he 
Could be just as bright as she?”
 

      — 3/? of Hadesephone Drabble (via falloutswift)
“Don’t you dare pity her
She traded a suffering soul for a throne of bones
She exchanged watchful eyes for a court of her own
The seasons of the earth depended on the very breath she took
She had death wrapped around her fingers and spring at her beck and call and the ruler of the heavens tasked with finding her
She turned the world upside down to find freedom
The daughter of flowers escaped her prison made out of roots and thorns and became the queen of death and forged her new home out of shadows and power”
 

      — Persephone was the real winner (via starlightpoet)

persephone sits in a courtroom
dress as green as summer trees
her lipstick red as blood
her golden crown sits on the table
and hermes stares her down

“did you eat the seeds of your own free will?”
a dagger fashioned into a question
hades flinches, front-row seat;
thanatos his defense attorney

demeter straightens in the audience
a flower blooms in her sun-browned hair
her curls a halo round her daughter’s face
and persephone smiles

“i did.”

shocked gasps in the courtroom
the jury whispers amongst themselves
deities, spirits, nymphs, and ghosts
all here to judge the king of hell

“why?”

persephone looks into her husband’s eyes
lord and lady, king and queen
she takes her crown and settles it
upon her summer curls

“centuries ago,” she says, every word
a titan-sized whisper, “i was only a girl.
look at me now.”

persephone stands in a courtroom
and hades smiles

for here, she is
a queen

 

      — olympus v. hadesm.j. | commission a poem (via nonvictimam)
“Bride of Darkness, Queen of Death,” 

      — Alfred Lord Tennyson, from Poems; “Demeter and Persephone,” (edited)
““I wish not to leave.” Her voice is a whisper into the cold air around us.
She lays next to me, curled up. Her back presses against my chest. Her warmth presses against my coldness. My hand reaches over to grab hers.
“You must, though.” My voice is rough. Gravely.
“Return with me?” She asks. She is hopeful, but she knows my answer.
“I cannot. There’s too much work to be done.” I am regretful. It would be a treat to leave with her, but there are no breaks in the underworld.
Her face buried into the pillow under her. Her last days here were always the hardest. Always the saddest. 
The mortals, they always ask why spring is filled with rain. They ask why the winters last so long and the summers are so short.
I wish to answer them sometimes, but all I can say is that’s when my dear Persephone misses me the most.”
 

      — 2/? of Hadesephone Drabble (via falloutswift)
“What the myths don’t tell you:
Demeter was in the underworld
When the pomegranate seeds
Passed over her daughters lips
And Persephone’s smile was blood red
As her mother gaped in horror
Over what she had become
Hades simply watched with a smile
Knowing that his new queen
Was not a woman to be trifled with”
 

      — Persephone knew exactly what she was doing (6/11/17)

goddess spring and rebirth

Independent Queen Persephone, Goddess of Spring and Rebirth, Necromancy and Ghostly Visits. Semi-private; semi-active; selective.

Myth basted, neither Percy Jackson nor Lore Olympus related.

Written by Jackee. Established July 30th, 2014, revamped August 27th. Previously nonvictimam.

queen of the underworld