Katie is a Sixth Form student currently studying Classical Civilisation, English, and Latin at A level. A weighty, rather dusty, highly treasured collection of Greek myths is what launched her interest in Classics during primary school and she feels extremely fortunate to have had the opportunity to study Classics since then, continually inspired by the passionate Classicists in her life. She is really looking forward to studying Classics at university and is hoping to share her enthusiasm with anyone who will listen! 

 

Ariadne 

His eyes hooked me. Whispering their  

lies. His soft hands caressed my cheek. 

I promised his safety and he vowed to love me. 

 

Him.  

Hero. Prince.  

Totally freaking ripped. 

 

Me. 

Princess. Pretty. 

Isolated and bored silly. 

 

Weapon selected. A woman’s ball of crimson thread.  

He plunged his sword into my brother’s 

panted wet final breath. 

 

He kept his word. Soon waves licked lapped laved 

and his tongue – threaded thin fire across my skin. 

I brushed his pale lips with my fingertips. 

 

Soft white sand rippled through my toes.  

Twisted, writhing, entwined. 

He unravelled me. 

 

Love? Ha.  

His charcoal sail flecked the canvas sky.  

I cried. Not for long. My tears dried. 

 

You found me.  

We stained our lips red with wine.  

You crowned me.  

 

Queen. Wife. Mother.  

 

The stars blink back. 

 

Poet’s Note 

In Greek mythology, Ariadne is a Cretan princess known for helping the Athenian hero Theseus. She ingeniously provides him with a ball of string to navigate out of the Labyrinth after he has slain her half-brother, the legendary Minotaur. Ariadne and Theseus then elope to the island of Naxos. Accounts differ as to what happened next – several have Theseus absolved of any responsibility. Diodorus claims Dionysus asked Theseus to leave Ariadne, and in Euripides’ play, Athena leads Theseus away from Ariadne. However, in the first few stanzas of my poem, I have decided to adhere to the most common portrayal of Theseus as a careless hero who willingly abandons Ariadne. Similarly, some endings of Ariadne’s story have her devastation being so all-consuming that she takes her own life. Yet, I wanted to portray her as fiercely resilient, so, in the last few stanzas, I have given Ariadne a happier ending, finding her equal in her marriage with Dionysus, as some modern scholars, like Godwin, have suggested is perhaps implied in Ovid’s Fasti. 

 

I study the wonderful poetry collection The World’s Wife by Carol Ann Duffy for my English A level and I have been captivated by how Duffy explores the nuance of the female perspective, particularly through tonal shifts. For example, in Duffy’s ‘Circe’, Circe is portrayed as naively soft yet also defiantly revengeful, the presence of men in her life transforms her and her outlook on the world. I realised that Ariadne has a similarly diverse character and thus I have written my poem in the style of Duffy. Ariadne is brimming with youthful naivety in the beginning, isolated in Crete, and totally gobsmacked at the arrival of Theseus, a handsome Athenian hero. But Theseus’ abandonment sparks a metamorphosis of maturity in her, transforming her from a “princess” to a “queen”, and provoking her fierce inner strength. 

John Atkinson Grimshaw’s ‘Ariadne on Naxos’

In The World’s Wife, Duffy is unlimited by a regular structure, she often uses caesura and enjambment, and thus she highly effectively conveys the nuance of her protagonist’s perspective. I have used this and Duffy’s characteristic internal and partial rhyming, which highlight the key points and cohesively join the poem, meaning her poems lend themselves to being read aloud. For example, the antithesis, but homoioteleuton I have utilised in “cried” and “dried”, deeply contrasts Ariadne’s previous grief with her later relief. Moreover, Duffy often uses modern language to forcefully characterise her protagonists. In my poem, I have used “freaking ripped” in order to demonstrate both Ariadne’s intense desire for Theseus when he first arrives, but also her regretful, angry tone as she remembers how easily she was taken in and manipulated by his good looks.  

Throughout the poem, I have aimed to weave in elements of the original myth whilst creating a distinct voice for Ariadne, particularly through my choice of verbs, “hooked”, “threaded”, “entwined”, and “unravelled” which allude to the thread she pivotally provides Theseus. Furthermore, I was inspired by John Atkinson Grimshaw’s beautiful painting of Ariadne, her ethereal stature, overflowing with longing, yet still infinitely strong. Indeed, I decided to use painting imagery such as the verbs “brushed”, “flecked”, and “stained”. Further developing this artistic imagery, I decided to focus on colour. Everything about Theseus is insipid, he has “pale” lips, he enlightens her on the “white” sand, and leaves with his “charcoal” sail, against the “canvas” sky. Theseus renders Ariadne’s world colourless. In contrast, Ariadne provides the “crimson” thread, and when she finally meets Dionysus, they stain their lips “red” with wine together. This description of colour highlights the differences between Ariadne and Theseus and, accordingly, the compatibility of Ariadne and Dionysus’s relationship. Finally, Dionysus is said to have tossed Ariadne’s crown into the sky, transforming the crown into the constellation Corona Borealis. There is an exquisite symmetry in this as the Minotaur’s real name is Asterion, which literally means “starry”. Thus, although Ariadne undeniably contributed to her half-brother’s destruction, ultimately, perhaps, she plays a part in his eternal commemoration.