Songs, Poetry and Images Inspired by Atlantis

Suffice it to say, my fantasy series-in-progress travels well-trod literary territory. My interest in Atlantis came late in life—just five years ago—and prior to my research, my only frame of reference was Jules Verne’s 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea and the ubiquitous nautical namesakes–Atlantis car washes, Atlantis diners. There’s even a gay cruise line called Atlantis.

My hope is to bring a fresh perspective to the legend while remaining faithful to classic mythology. My favorite texts on the subject are Lewis Spence’s History of Atlantis, Edith Hamilton’s Mythology and Frank Joseph’s The Atlantis Encyclopedia. The latter is literally an A to Z reference book and a fascinating read.

Here’s some poetry, lyrics and imagery I found to keep me inspired.

Atlantis

Being set on the idea

Of getting to Atlantis,

You have discovered of course

Only the Ship of Fools is

Making the voyage this year,

As gales of abnormal force

Are predicted, and that you

Must therefore be ready to

Behave absurdly enough

To pass for one of The Boys,

At least appearing to love

Hard liquor, horseplay and noise.

 

Should storms, as may well happen,

Drive you to anchor a week

In some old harbour-city

Of Ionia, then speak

With her witty sholars, men

Who have proved there cannot be

Such a place as Atlantis:

Learn their logic, but notice

How its subtlety betrays

Their enormous simple grief;

Thus they shall teach you the ways

To doubt that you may believe.

 

If, later, you run aground

Among the headlands of Thrace,

Where with torches all night long

A naked barbaric race

Leaps frenziedly to the sound

Of conch and dissonant gong:

On that stony savage shore

Strip off your clothes and dance, for

Unless you are capable

Of forgetting completely

About Atlantis, you will

Never finish your journey.

 

Again, should you come to gay

Carthage or Corinth, take part

In their endless gaiety;

And if in some bar a tart,

As she strokes your hair, should say

“This is Atlantis, dearie,”

Listen with attentiveness

To her life-story: unless

You become acquainted now

With each refuge that tries to

Counterfeit Atlantis, how

Will you recognise the true?

 

Assuming you beach at last

Near Atlantis, and begin

That terrible trek inland

Through squalid woods and frozen

Thundras where all are soon lost;

If, forsaken then, you stand,

Dismissal everywhere,

Stone and now, silence and air,

O remember the great dead

And honour the fate you are,

Travelling and tormented,

Dialectic and bizarre.

 

Stagger onward rejoicing;

And even then if, perhaps

Having actually got

To the last col, you collapse

With all Atlantis shining

Below you yet you cannot

Descend, you should still be proud

Even to have been allowed

Just to peep at Atlantis

In a poetic vision:

Give thanks and lie down in peace,

Having seen your salvation.

 

All the little household gods

Have started crying, but say

Good-bye now, and put to sea.

Farewell, my dear, farewell: may

Hermes, master of the roads,

And the four dwarf Kabiri,

Protect and serve you always;

And may the Ancient of Days

Provide for all you must do

His invisible guidance,

Lifting up, dear, upon you

The light of His countenance.

WH Auden

Moon Turn the Tides Gently Away

So down and down and down and down

and down and down we go.

Hurry my darling we mustn’t be late

for the show.

Neptune champion games to an aqua

world is so very dear.

“Right this way,” smiles a mermaid,

I can hear Atlantis full of cheer.

 

I can hear Atlantis full of cheer…

I can hear Atlantis full of cheer…

Jimi Hendrix

Atlantis – A Lost Sonnet

How on earth did it happen, I used to wonder

that a whole city—arches, pillars, colonnades,

not to mention vehicles and animals—had all

one fine day gone under?

 

I mean, I said to myself, the world was small then.

Surely a great city must have been missed?

I miss our old city—

 

white pepper, white pudding, you and I meeting

under fanlights and low skies to go home in it. Maybe

what really happened is

this: the old fable-makers searched hard for a word

to convey that what is gone is gone forever and

never found it. And so, in the best traditions of

where we come from, they gave their sorrow a name

and drowned it.

Eavan Boland

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