Who is this mater
Who comes peripater?
Who is the mother
That touches our lives?

Who is the mother,
Seeking a daughter?
Every year after,
In spring she arrives –

Full force,
On course,
She comes;

Who is the mater,
To come peripater?
Who is the daughter….
Who touches our lives?

‘Tis fruit she is after;
The fruit she belabors;
Wheat we must wait for,
For her, otherwise.

A mother,
A daughter?
Which one


None! shall there sate her,
Perennial mater;
She’s seeking the daughter,
A daughter that hides.

In what her appearance
For us signifies,
Each re-emergence,
For her, from demise.


The daughter, she’s after,
Is sundered forever:
For half of her time,
Down under she lies.

Demeter, the mater,
Her daughter, she cries,
No longer is with her,
In Hades she hides.

Deep down there under,
The wife of the master;
The master of Hades,
Has taken a bride.


Hades has wed her;
Hades now beds her.
Hell hath the fury,
For half of the time.

Persephone, daughter,
Demeter the mother,

Cold is the weather,
Cold is the clime;
Demeter, the mother,
Demeter, the sign.

©2016, Marvin Loyd Welborn
02 October 2016
Poem’s Score: 2.2

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