Image by Toni Cross
man
as usual
missed the point
of what the gods
had said
it was
a jar
not
a box
nor do we know
whether it was the scent
of
jasmine
rose
or
apple blossoms
that tempted her
to open the it
but open it
she did
and into the world
poured the foul smells
of hate
greed
and war
shaped as pools of tears
quickly
spinning beneath the jar
whirling into all times
a milkyway fear
and remorse
so she grasped the lid
and trapped hope within
and hid the jar
for fear
of what else
was within
but hope
was all that was left
and to this day
it remains within the jar
if we could
but find the jar
hope could be freed
and we
could be
as we
were meant
to be
free
of life’s
miseries
My friend Toni Cross presented a challenge to me today…’write a poem for this photo of mine’…I of course sent her one of my photos with the same challenge…above you find her photo and my poem.
Read Between the Minds 
Mission well-accomplished. I’d love to see her poem.
“I still have the scars of iambic pentameter on the right ventricle of my heart.”
I’m afraid I am still there. When I am working on a poem, I catch myself, even with unrelated thoughts, thinking them in rythem. Maybe one day I’ll break free from it. Your’s is among the few I have seen that does, that still appeals to me.
I like your interpretation of the picture.
I love the idea of it being a jar instead of a box . A beautiful poem .a beautiful blog with much richness to explore thank you ~
I love this modern day retelling. If you’re interested, Caper Journal is currently accepting submissions for poetry/creative writing that deal with mythology, magical realism, and surrealism.
I love what you did with the photo, what words it inspired in you. I would have opened it, the jar, whether it was the delectable-looking concoction in the image, or perhaps had the scent of:
jasmine
rose
or
apple blossoms
It was not the opening of the jar that was the fatal error, it was closing it up again. Pandor set something in motion and, fearful of what she’d unleashed and what else might come because of it, refused to allow it its natural conclusion. Not an unusual human story. 🙂
Why is it always a woman?
“Though libraries are burned for the sake of truth
Fragments always survive in the necks of bottles”
-Doug Russell “The History of Beauty”
great challenge. great poem. peace, Sue
great take on the challenge..
shaped as pools of tears
quickly
spinning beneath the jar
whirling into all times
beautiful images. absolutely charming blog! cheers
Enjoyed reading this one, spinning off into daydreams of all the times I’ve thought I might’ve caught a glimpse of that jar floating in the eyes of love, still reaching whenever I do see something no matter how many times, thinking I might still get lucky.
Absolutely amazing. Thank you for creating such a grouping of beautiful words that inspire deeper thought.
Just wonderful and thank you for stopping by my blog.
I will be visiting again!
Really interesting concept in this poem. Really enjoyed it!
this is just awsome!!!!
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Great interpretation of the jar…thoroughly enjoyed this poem
Fantabulous as always Charles 🙂 Pandora…
as always, slp, you do it well – something that needs to be said, which is whispering in opur own minds, you bring to the forefront
Excellently crafted, well done.
Oh wow… the thought of being freed of miseries is so inviting! But that’s greed. And greed is one of those vices… so now I am thinking it’s all a vicious circle… phew
But yes, Hope keeps us alive and motivated! Even if APndor’s jar is found, I would like to keep my hope with me 🙂
A very beautiful poem, Charles… and you wouldn’t believe this, just 2-3 days ago, I had Googled and Wiki-ed Pandora’s Box, just to learn about the story behind it :)…
And now I read this! 🙂 WOW!!
Sometimes, there are questions that are asked, but are left unanswered…but sometimes, there are questions that are never asked, but the answers present themselves! This was one such answer 🙂
Thanks for sharing it here 🙂
A very interesting poem-makes me think & I like poems that do 🙂
It would have had to smell of incense, musk, leather, vanilla, cognac and Cuban cigars to allure me… highly unprobable in ancient Greece. So, you see, people always say I’m a spoiled brat. If I had been there, everything would have been alright. No lids lifted, no trouble.
One of my favorites. 🙂 Got me thinking.
I’m seeing hope wend it’s way through your writing.
this was another powerful piece so adeptly penned
smiles from the moon
you keep on astounding me every day with your words, astounding me and enlightening me, and touching my heart, thank you
I wrote a poem to go with your photo… but then I was seized by doubt about whether the instrument in the picture was a cello or a wood bass. After writing and posting my poem under the assumption that it was a cello, I realized that seeing you entitled the photo Reflected Jazz, that it was more likely a bass.
You probably think I’m a goose to confuse the two… oh well. I guess I’ll have to write a second poem. 🙂
oh, just beautiful. i have to say it again: you’re a great storyteller.
loved this poem, the simple twist of a jar instead of a box and the sensory experience i had reading this put me in a good mood. thanks for the comments on my poems, it means a lot coming from a fellow poet 😀
Well wrought spin on old tale. I like it …
Ah, the jar! Could it be a womb and the hope is the birth of a Savior? Just my thought.