Venus and Mars, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz


Venus and Mars

Sisyphus my name, makes me work long days.
Being not myself is my mortal sin.
It has denied me of my desired ways.
Is there any way for a new begin?

Succubus, it’s treacherous you again,
To manipulate a weak heart this night.
It’s not love that you bring but darken pain.
Out! For soon I embrace Aphrodite.

Without plan my eyes cast upon a Nereid,
Of such great beauty, my sound was for naught.
Her eyes enter mine to steal a heart she did.
For a life time this is the love I’ve sought.

That the golden flaxen hair of her head,
Shall soon sleep so softly upon my bed.


This poem may appear familiar to some and it has been posted on my Face Book page before. I felt that I needed to give it a new title and add some additional explanation as to my thoughts. First on the painting itself. To the left is Venus or Aphrodite her Greek name and the sleeping Mars. The theme of the painting is love conquers war.  But having read a little about the painter and the model my poem taps into the dream of Mars.  The faces in the painting are none other than Simonetta Vespucci referred to the most beautiful woman of Florence in her short life time and  Sandro Botticelli the painter. The speaker in the poem is Botticelli who compares himself to Sisyphus, the god who pushes the boulder up the hill all day only to have it roll down and has to start all over the next day. He feels his work is never done. In the painting we see him sleeping. He sees Succubus after him to make love. I have no evidence but it is my thinking that this is how the Greeks and Romans explained a male’s wet dream. As dreams would go he would be saved by one of 50 beautiful nereids one of which who would have the face of Simonetta. So eventually he does awaken and sees her. However in real life she is married. This leads me to why  I choose the original title of this poem: Penitence – the action of feeling or showing sorrow and regret for having done wrong; repentance. Simonetta died young and yet Sandro carried a love for her until his death. At his own death he requested that he be buried at her feet. It was granted. Soon I will have a poem with a similar story that involves DaVinci

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