MODERN HYMNS AND POETRY FOR HERMES

For Hermes
by Heather Cox

He sits at the crossroads and guides travelers towards their destination.
    much in the same manner that he guides the souls of the dead on
their final journey.
He watches over and tends his flocks as any good shepard would,
    all the while wearing a sly smile at the thought of the games we
mortals play.
The twinkle in his eye rivals that of any jewel that a thief who pays
homage to him would claim.
And once this fleet footed one delivers his divine messages, he joins
his talents to the merry making,
    deftly playing his pipes.
A trickster, cunning and swift, yet ever the supreme ambassador.
He is Hermes.

Mercurial God
by Diotima Sophia

Changeable, quick and flowing
Attractive
Striking
and fine
And poison
to those who do not take care.

Hermes Alights
by Diotima Sophia

Swift footed god
Herald – messenger
Knower of secrets

Master of stealth
Musician
Charmer
Thief

Apollo’s anger is stilled
Transformed

By the music of the lyre
Visceral
Sweet
Sublime

Arcadia
by Ariana Dawnhawk

Here it is rocky, more suitable for sheep than people
A wild place, not the refined paradise some imagine it as
Here paths trace the hills
and out of the restless winds and streams
come words, come stories
and laughter.

A scattering of pebbles
a scattering of dice
and the patterns make the next turn in the road
make the paths down into eventual darkness
and Hermes watches.

Hermes Poem
by Ariana Dawnhawk

The words are uncertain,
chancy at best.
The magic doesn’t always come out
the way I want it to.
The paths divide endlessly.

Night comes,
and out of it laughter
wild and knowing,
pouring the stories
the unasked-for gifts-
old voices
old messages
made new
give breath and flight
until I, too, can laugh.

Hermes Thank You
by Ariana Dawnhawk

Running through the gateways
Running along the borders, you are
Sideways and speaking and hopeful, you are
Boundary and transgressor, merchant and thief
Clever one, swift one, true guide –
Be praised!
(3-9-07)

Hermes prayer
by Theokleia

A quick prayer to Hermes given with a libation of fine chocolate after I ran to catch a tram:

Praise be to Hermes!
Friend of the traveller!
A sweet thanks for my
quick feet.

To Hermes
by J.L. Robins

I sing to the fleet-footed Messenger of Olympus,
Divine son of Thundering Zeus and lovely Maia.

Eloquent of speech, your swift tongue and musical gift
softened the heart of your shining brother
and allowed your theft to go unpunished—
gifted with a herd of your own.
Bearing the kerykeion as the Herald of the Gods
you have given my words life
the ability to communicate and interact with all.

Guide of the dead, leading souls
to Persephone’s shadowy Realm.
Yet you are joyous, frolicking in the mountains
amongst the nymphs and satyroi
bringing laughter and leading the games of the wild.
Guide to more than the dead
the waylaid traveler seeks your crossroads
for respite and sustenance,
following you in your never-ending journeys.
I thank you for your protection in my own journeys—
near, far and within.

Divine guide, luck-bringer and communicator
I pray for your continued blessings
and offer my thanks and praise
in all my life.

To the Shaker
Miguel Oliveira

To Hermes, who shakes my world appart.

It is quiet and calm, it is peaceful and still.
The muffled sounds gently touch my hear
And in slow motion the world goes by;
Time is no longer a rampant river
Ever flowing away to distant void.
I smile, but all is stagnant like a swamp:
I no longer have something to set my eyes on,
No longer a river to flow with, or fight against,
No longer music can sound clear and loud.
And it is still and peaceful…
And it is calm and quiet…

I do not cry, I do not try…

But the world shakes; all is upturned:
The rocks that blocked the flow,
The walls we built to stop the running waters,
All of them fall at the touch of you hand.
And the river streams again,
Again we have a horizon of chance
A multitude of maybes, hopes and fears.
Again we have life!

Great is your ever flowing power!
You who never sit still and inert,
You who despise all that is static,
Give us something to strive for,
A world of future and growth!

I thank you, Hermes,
Great messenger and guide,
For all the blessings so clear in my life,
And for all the unseen gifts you bestow!
May this prayer please you
And may we meet again soon
In blissful celebration of you divine being!

To Hermes Psychopompos
by Lykeia

Limphid-eyed Muses sing now of the dark-hooded guide,
Sing of the escort of the mourned and beloved dead.
Join me in my song to honor Pyschopompos,
Heavenly son of Zeus, wanderer above and below.

There on his hill he lifts his wand, and stands the evening star,
Harken to him the vast company of dead to follow in his tread.
There, the sons of Nyx, Hypnos and Thanotos on their nightly rounds!
Hail to you Hermes, divine leader of the souls into the hidden realm,
Welcoming into earth's embrace, leading the descending to Hade's domain.

You drive forth the spirits, as you drove forth the cattle before you,
A mantle earned from your escort of Persephone from below.
Thereafter a guide, thereafter between the worlds, your path is well marked,
Kerberos bows before you, a pup at your hand, as through the darkness you lead.
The route is clear and well traveled, pass the spanning Okeanos twining stream,
Through the chambers of dreams, and the many habitations and sacred gates,
There you lead, and lead well our dead safely in your care!

Here we pray, our message to be sent to beloved and honored dead,
Carry it away from our lips to that the world far beyond where Hades dwells.
Whisper our words into the phantom ear, that they recieve our love,
We shall ever remember you and heap the offering bowl high on your holy day.
Most Honored Psychopompos, recieves these offerings we set forth,
And hear our prayers of adoration unto you, who walks the trails of the dead.

Traveler's Prayers
by Rebecca Buchanan

Hermes and Hekate
Way-walkers
Guide my steps

Hermes and Hekate
Travelers
Watch over me on my journey
Beginning to end

Untitled
by Rebecca Buchanan

three hours into a seventeen hour drive
and the check engine light comes on
two thousand dollars to fix this problem
and I'm pissed
but not Hermes
he's a god who likes to fuck with people
the curveball
the wrench in the works
that's Hermes
laughing at how we complain and whine and stress
we little mortals
who can't see the whole thing is a game

Hymn to Hermes and Hekate
by Rebecca Buchanan

pathfinders
they are called
and waywalkers and
keybearers and
gatekeepers
they watch over doors and
roads and
highways
every time
you walk through a door or
turn a corner or
take an off ramp
you are entering their realm
gods who can smooth your path or
trip you up with every step
-- be nice

Hermes
by Blue

God of thinnest feet who treads upon the edges
Divine and slyest son
of Olympos,
Smile like a knife-blade
Sharp and quick minnow-mind
He of glances, sidelong and sly—
Biggest dick who sits where the streets meet,
Silvery singing fey who slays with stories—
I string syllables while you criticize
Since no word can seize you in your entirety,
Realize your identity,
Beyond and between
And within reality.

To Hermes At the Crossroads of Earth and Sky,
Also Known As O'Hare
by Ari

We came spiraling down the path
Guided by the right information,
this time.
From car to bus to home
in the nick of time
we arrived
Tracing our way
from secrets and magic
along the street of curry (and others)
to hotels upon hotels
Faster than we hoped -
Hermes, thank you.

All Praise to Hermes
by Ari

All praise to Hermes
From these winding corridors
Branching links of knowledge
and trickery
Access and guide
Road in the distanceless
Opener of the way
and restorer of connections -
thank you!

Prayer to Hermes
by Knyt

Praise be unto Hermes! Guardian of Travelers, Psychopompos!
He who guides the souls of those who've passed to the next world,
He who guides our daily travels to accomplish our tasks.
Praise be to He who grants good fortune, luck, and commerce!
Praise be to Him who guides me and calls me His own!
Blessed I am to be so fortunate!

On the verge of a threshold, to push through.
To discover our potential!
To find oneself is perhaps
the greatest and most challenging journey of all,
Thusly upon such, Hermes is there,
Guiding us daily, looking after us
With his ever keen eye, and unmatched wit!
Praise be to Hermes!

My love for Him knows no boundaries!
My loyalty unwavering!
Praise be to You, Beloved Hermes!

Praise be to You Hermes,
for guiding me this far, for showing me the way!
Praise be to You great Lord and Protector,
For all Your lessons, Your guidance, and blessings!

Eucharisto para poli Hermes Enodios!

To Hermes
by Jennifer Lawrence

Hail, Hermes Eriounios, luck-bringer, gift-giver, swift one!
To you do I give my thanks this day
for the bounty you have showered upon me.
You answered my questions and showed me the way;
Guide, watcher, keen-eyed one, I thank you.
I have gloried in the abundance you bring me,
And set my feet firmly on the path you show me.
My thanks for your guidance are unending,
And in return I give gifts back unto you.
You will not find me ungrateful, or stinting.
Let each day be a day that I say to you,
'Hail!', on the moment that I wake.

Hermes Propylaios
by Phillupus

watching them going crossing
over and back out again
i stand silent witness
guardian and support
lintel of every doorway

"one who is not an initiate"
outside of the mysteries
because for me there is no
beginning or introduction
or going in and seeing

no phallus on this herm
as sign of protection
priapic apotropaic
for it is a root a seed
a start but i have none

"know thyself" i say
advising by word and form
for those who know how
to interpret these things
for this is what i am

the interpreter mediator
translator metaphor
the most basic medium
of thought mind word
symbol sign sense

there is no me apart from
these things nor is there
a you outside or inside
of these things identity
is but a whisper on wind

of moving vibratory particles
in a vast space empty
only known because it moves
carrying point to point
the message of movement

a dance only seen
from a distance that sees
what sign symbol sense
can create what means
meaning again is
"a way or manner by which events happen"
thus not a thing
with independent essence
but again a dance
a way of moving

and what am i but
the movement the moment
static or dynamic
the particle the pattern
the ripples outward

from first forms of chaos
so all coming and going
is me and even you
have been in the chain
of being since before being

and knowing yourself
consists in nothing more
than seeing the moment
but not mistaking it
for the spaces in between

To Hermes
by Jeremy J. Bear aka "Ursus"

Fleet- footed, laughter-loving Hermes,
son of Zeus and Maia,
patron of travelers,
giver of luck and fortune,
guide of the souls of the dead.
Guard me in my travels.
Grant me fair tiding and success.
Fashion words to employ to my advantage.
Crafty Hermes, let me always outwit my foes.
And I shall honor you, Herald of the Gods.

To Hermes II
by Jeremy J. Bear aka "Ursus"

Hermes,
Ever a friend to man,
You lead me through trying trevails.
The journey begins and ends with offerings to you,
O' Son of Zeus and Maia.
When I have lost my way,
I call out to you for deliverance.
And always you answer in kind,
With a warm smile and a laughing wit.
Let there be libations to drench the soft earth
For the beneficient Herald of the Gods.
Let incense rise to the undaunted heavens
To salute the Giver of Good Things.
Take me home, my dear Hermes,
Always and Ever lead me home safely
From rugged paths and from foreboding climes.
And when my soul finds meet to surrender its last breath,
Take my hand and fly me to the Empyrean,
Where I may dwell with the blessed gods for Aions to come.
In gratitude, Hermes, accept this prayer.

Dionysos and Hermes
by Phillupus

I remember back when I snatched him from heaven's fires;
into Nysian nymphs' hands I conveyed him
when as a goat he was saved from Ino and Athamas;
but never have I seen him in a sadder state.

As ever, he is young and beautiful,
the desire and object of every eye that beholds him,
his long blond-streaked hair glistening,
people calling him "Miss" despite his dark stubble.

I look at him now through strange eyes:
in foreign flesh he resides, trapped, unknowing.

I am older, taller, nowhere near as thin,
a Silenos compared to his slimness,
I am balding like the Gaulish Ogmios
yet still as skilled in speech and quick-minded.

He wears a green shirt without sleeves,
the name of some rainbow-lettered cocktail lounge on his breast;
he is a slave to dragons, to liquids in bottles,
he stumbles not knowing the depths of his blindness.

Not even the Great Mother can cure him
of this blindness, twice as dangerous as Hera's madness;
I must take him to an unknown spring
where, bathing, he will have his sight restored.

But he fears swimming, and sitting behind a car's wheel,
and he has no trust in fit fleetness of foot.

I have seen how he might be healed,
his blindness restored to the rejoicing of all,
how his dancing feet might float upon the winds
and make prison doors swing wide open again.

I know what words will be in my mouth
on that festival when he returns to his senses,
how these lips will say "Do not give thanks to me,
rather thank the gods who have made it so."

He will lean on a new thyrsus of freedom's hues,
with lights shining for the illumination of many,
like a new Pharos guiding the sea-tossed ships
safely into welcoming ports of celebration.

But those revels are far in coming,
for he has forgotten his deepest nature.

Ever it has been the theme of his drama:
those who refuse the god are destroyed by him.
Dionysos has left the body where once he dwelt,
even as my awareness departs this borrowed one.

I lament for the loss that none will know has happened,
how the world has been deprived of a new Dionysos.
The blind and doubting shell left where he lived
will only be valued for his phallic endowments.

He has drank the grapes, but in being crushed like them
he has not fermented and found new life as spirit;
he has refused the cup, while overindulging the drink,
and his screams while being stomped have been lost in the noise.

To Hermes of the Computer
by Erik Dutton

Khaire!
Hermes, winged Messenger -
You who rule all commerce and communication.
Be with me always as I work,
And I will always do you honor and make my work an offering.
Hear me now, O Hermes, as I offer you this prayer; every time the disk
spins, may my prayer travel out to reach you.

I write this short prayer and keep it at the root of all my hard drives (inspired in concept by the Tibetan prayer wheel -
the idea being that every time the disc spins it renews the prayer.)

Hymn of Hermes
by Jim Wise (aka Calamus)

Sing to me Muse
a song of myself,
that I may remember
and remembering
may sing true


I remember the first time I saw Loki,
because it was the day I first fell in love.
His titan father had sent him to foster with Great Zeus,
to give him the experience of life among the radiant ones.
Radiant ones. Even as I write the words,
I feel an old rage welling up. The petty,
petulant radiant ones, forever meddling,
forever conniving, forever wallowing in
self-indulgent childishness. Of course I knew
nothing of that at the time. I knew only that
I was my father’s favorite, and that the worlds were mine.

The day was warm, a breeze blowing off the Great Sea,
gulls hunting the waves. I was naked but for a loincloth,
my crane-skin bag slung over shoulder, holding everything
precious to me: my stylus and ink-jar, a bound book of
parchment for the scribblings of an adolescent poet,
a few talismans that bore the marks of my first stumbling
attempts at magic, and my weirding stones. I was not quite
the immortal man I was to become. My long hair, dark and
falling in loose curls over my shoulder, a shell talisman around
my neck, I bore more of my mother than my father. Maia was
a Nymph, earth to Zeus’ sky, and I was earth. My feet,
stained a permanent green, lusted for grass and wet sucking soil.

I was most at home in those days, as now, in the deep places
of the forest, and in caves that my mother called the womb of
She Who Was First.

I saw the ship, firesails moving in the breeze,
and hurried to meet my new foster-brother. I was raised
alongside the Sun and Moon, but I had not seen beauty
until that moment. Lean build, auburn hair falling straight
over his face, veiling eyes shining with fire, his face broken
in a smile. Even now, it is his smile that I most remember.

That I most miss.


For some time I had begged Father to let me go off
exploring through the worlds. I wanted to rely on myself
and my magick, taking only what I could carry and trusting
Gaia to supply my needs. Father agreed, provided I not go
alone. Loki. Although he had been with us a short time, he
had charmed everyone. Even Father warmed to him. And I
believe Zeus was happy to see something of himself in me -
a weakness for pretty boys who wore their wildness on their skin.

We set off at dawn. My father came to send us off with blessing.
He gave me a staff. Not the serpent-hugging kerykeon that I would
later carry as his voice in the worlds, but a plain staff of ash,
shoulder-high, stout, straight, and strong. Loki and I set off, packs
on our shoulders, ready to backpack the worlds.

We walked by day, though fiery heat and misty cold hells,
and slept each night wrapped together in love. I carved
what magick I knew into the wood of the staff and sang power
into it each evening while Loki hunted and cooked a simple meal.
Before sleep each night, I wrote of the day’s events, things seen,
men and giants we had met along the Roads.

Love grew. In the cold places, we made our own heat. I would
stare into those intelligent eyes, my hair falling over our faces,
and climb inside my god. I gave him all my memories, and
swallowed all of his, digesting him into my own body. I wanted
us to become one person, to melt into one another and be whole.
I was happy then. Life was so simple, and we were so pure.
No anger, no rage, no betrayal - all of that was yet to come,
aeons in the future. We were lovers, together. In some worlds,
we were the only two living beings. Every sound seemed a sacrilege
to me, until Loki would laugh, breaking the spell. I never wanted
it to end.

In one world, while walking a forest, we spied a hovel,
an old woman in front, a raven perched on her shoulder.
She seemed to be talking to herself. Or the raven.
Or some unseen guest. I was intrigued and strode to meet
her. Seeing us she said, Welcome, young Magus, son of the High One.
And Loki of the Fire People. What do you here at an old woman’s
house on such a lonely day as this?


Simple travelers, Madam, but I wonder how you knew to name your guests.

I am a seer, young Hermes of the Swift Foot, and saw you coming
long before you walked this Road. Let us eat together and I will tell
you what must be in the ages to come. For I see many things
that even gods may not have seen in this Cauldron that I stir.

By all means, good Lady, we will share your table and hear
your tales. I have great respect for Oracles and would hear
all that you would tell.

We dined on cabbage and watered ale and settled in
to hear the volva speak.

I am haunted by dreams of fire, young son of God. I see
the Earth consumed in flames and hear the screams of
the dying. I see a time when deluded priests will learn the songs
that wake the sleeping demon Surt, and he will call down
death on all that is. He who is Fire will embrace the Mother
and she will not survive the touch.

How can this be, old woman, and yet my heart tells me
that you speak the truth. Can nothing stop the raging fire?

Strong folk can oppose the priests, and sing stronger songs,
but how can such songs be learned in the brief lives of men?
One day you will be the Guide to lead the fallen into the Halls
of the Dead, where all must stay awhile. Dream for a way,
young god, dream for a way to save the Mother of us all.

I will find a way, Great Seer. I will build a house within the Halls
of the Dead, and I will choose such men and women who have the
heart and skill to fight this foe. I will teach them there to fight -
with skill and magick and might, and they will be the army to stand
against this foe on the dreadful day of doom. I will be the fury that
drives them into dreams, inspires them into deeds. I will be the Wod
that pounds within their hearts. I swear on my Mother’s name,
I will save the Earth from apocalypse.

We left at morning, my mind reeling with the burden of what
had been revealed. Loki tried to comfort me: You are my inspiration,
my Hermes, my Fury, my Woden, the flint that kindles my flame.
I will never leave you, you will never be alone. This burden
I will share. We will stand before the Fire and will not be overcome.
So young then, before the love had turned to hate,

before the bitter taste of betrayal filled our mouths
with bile. Only great love can turn to such a great hate.

Now I am called Odin.
Now I gather the fallen. Now I prepare for the day. I walk the
worlds still, guiding my chosen to wisdom and purpose.
I am alone, last of the Olympians, wishing for the feel
of Loki’s touch, the sound of his laughter, one last time
before the end of all things.

Hermes Truant
by Jim Wise (aka Calamus)

Hermes
laughs and beckons,
dancing, leaping over walls.

We’re not supposed to be here,”
I stammer in my fear.

“Why not?” you smile
and walk me deeper into Forbidden.

“I forgive every sin
you think you ever did.
The only real sin is staying home
and never braving the Road.
Only cowards and sheep
follow all the rules.
Desire, my friend,
and follow where it leads.”

“But isn’t Desire
the source of suffering?”

“And joy.
Is pain too high a price
to pay for ecstasy, for life?
These are gifts, my priest,
my son, as is your time on earth.
Do not spend your days hating
your mortal life in anticipation
of paradise. I will tell you
a secret only mystics, madmen,
and whores know:

You are in paradise now.”

“Then lead me deeper, Holy God,
teach me trespass and let me
see it all.”

Hermes smiled a trickster’s smile,
pointed kerykeon past the sign
that said DO NOT.

“That way.”

To Hermes
by Lykeia

Hermes, how swift your feet
That ran the sacred race
That leapt the bonds
Race across the three spaces
And your mother's veil fluttered to the earth
From the day your infant legs
Stretched eagerly from her lap.
Champion of the game
You handle with such artful mastery
The polished pieces of the contest
And how agile you bend
To carry off the fruit of your victory.
How you laughed and spun the turtle shell,
Turned it about between your palms,
And death's remains became your song
Your transformation at your nimble hands
To set the seven oxen-born strings
The bold gift for Apollon,
For the twin-serpent kerykeion.
Swift herald, counselor and guide
There the numerous herds align
To the direction of your golden staff,
You carry the calf with bright hocks
Within the crook of your arm
And the wide-horned bull bellows to the cow
As they travel along the road.
Here you watch the living upon their paths
As we go and return
As each life plays the sacred game
As each runs the race toward the end
There you are, holding our hand.

For Hermes
by Melia

Hail Hermes, clever fleet-footed son of Zeus.
Kind-hearted, unpredictable, scheming,
Impetuous, fortunate and wise.
Hermes I praise and honor you.
Giver of fortune, grant me the good.
Giver of sleep and dreams, let me sleep well.
Guardian of travelers, keep me safe on my journeys.
Master of thieves, guard my goods from your pupils.
Witty and charming one, steady my stumbling tongue.
Messenger of the Gods, give me understanding.
Magician, aid me in rituals and in learning your arts.
Playful One, help me teach my son without crushing his spirit.
Multifaceted, laughter-loving god
Accept this humble offering with my good will.
Hail Hermes.

For Hermes II
by Melia

Hermes, keeper of sleep and dreams
On this night and every night
Quiet all the worries and schemes
If it isn't dark, let me not mind the light
If I am restless, help me to relax
If I am cold, warm me to my toes.
Don't let me regret those late snacks.
Nor let me get in only a light doze.
Make my aches and pains depart
Quiet the noise or deafen me (temporarily!)
Holder of the staff, this is your art.
I need my sleep badly you see
So that patience and laughter are mine
Please send me to sleep  with a kind laugh
Because impatience and anger are not fine!
Hermes please whack me with your staff!

The Insomniac's Prayer
by Amanda Sioux Blake

Hermes Hypnos, God of Sleep
I pray you close my eyes tonight
My mortal bones are wearied from the day's work
And Helios sleeps in His golden bed
Nyx has spread Her blanket of stars upon the world
And Selene smiles down on mankind
All the world slumbers, yet I am awake!
Muses, taunt me no more!
Your slave will be ready and willing once more, come morning's light
For now, let the chatter of my mind cease
Let my eyelids grow heavy
And rest overtake my body
Sweet renewing sleep
Which takes away pain and opens the mind to the world of dreams,
I entreat you to come to me.
Relieve me of care
And open the door
To Morpheous's embrace.

Hermes Among Us
by Amanda Sioux Blake

Hermes walks among us
In dust-covered human guise
The God of Travelers
Anonymous
Seemingly ordinary
Some may never spare Him a second glance
A baseball cap covers His eerie green eyes
Mischief sparkles in those pools
Deep and hard as emerald shine

Hermes rides the subway
Beneath New York City streets
Do the riders see His emerald eyes
Watching them over the newspaper?

Hermes commutes to work
On trains, in cars
He's with us all.
He's the stranger in the next car
The person in airplane seat ahead of you
You may recognize Him in a fellow travelers eyes
Or you may never see His face

Be mindful of your actions
The way you treat your peers
Give a friendly nod as you cross the street
To the man crossing the other way
You will never know if he is just a man
Or the Companion of Man.
Hermes walks among us –
Treat us with respect.