Inspired by Sappho: 01
"Cyprian Aphrodite,
I talked to you
in a dream"... [Sappho]
Night visions,
alone, on my bed,
she comes to me:
Goddess of Love,
astride a golden bird;
her face a portrait
in divine hues,
her voice soft and gentle:
I am here, she sighs,
in your dream I come;
what do you seek, my child?
Love, Mistress,
the warmth of an embrace,
the touching of lips,
the joining of hearts;
I do not wish to be alone,
yet who could love such as I?
Her hand strokes my sleeping brow,
caresses my face:
you will love in time,
another soul entwined with yours;
patience, my child:
you are but seventeen,
and I am Eternal.
Inspired by Sappho: 02
"Atthis, I loved you once, long ago.
when you seemed like a child to me,
small and awkward"...[Sappho]
Once there was a summer child
who gazed at life with eyes of innocence,
who laughed at simple childhood joys
and filled her heart with love as well –
no longer.
Time relentless, seasons in their turn
changed that laughing summer child
into a storm-filled winter maiden
whose childhood dreams bring peace
no longer.
Change is all and change is ever,
as the ancient Greek did warn;
nothing will remain the same,
for the innocence of summer is
no longer.
There is pain as we grow older
that exists apart from the flesh,
pain that lives within the soul,
reminding us that youth endures
no longer.
Winter: how we seek endings
that come gently, in softness;
but we are not so blessed by seasons:
winter’s blast is cold and deathly – love
no longer.
Inspired by Sappho: 03
"Earth is embroidered
with many garlands"...[Sappho]
She steps gently, in an air of calm,
upon the earth embroidered with flowers,
flowers that barely notice her passing,
so hushed is the world around.
Above shines the golden-hued Sun,
crowned with a halo of brightest light,
eager to furnish a glowing path
for her to walk upon in peace.
The clouds rejoice: in many forms
they swiftly create companions for her,
phantoms of wind and water,
so that she might not feel alone.
She steps gently, smiling as she walks,
knowing the secret desired by all:
Love is the power that weaves our lives,
that fashions everything we need.
Inspired by Sappho: 04
"Dark Dream,
you come as sleep comes,
bitter-sweet god, with dreadful sorrow"...[Sappho]
Images flicker, insubstantial,
ghostly invaders of my mind,
stealing sleep away;
prayers that dreams of light
bless my solemn rest
and heal my broken soul,
in vain:
for dark shadows
tear at my tortured heart,
a dreadful agony –
no escape,
they come for me,
they conquer sleep
and I am lost
in their grasp.
Inspired by Sappho: 05
"Sandals from Lydia
strapped to her feet
in hues of the rainbow,
delicate work"...[Sappho]
The soft shades of the rainbow,
that glorious embracing of colours,
surround a sandaled Lady
as she treads cold halls of marble;
inner light, many-hued, reflects her beauty,
casts a warm spell on all who attend.
Her soul sings out, music of the cosmos
echoing from her lips, and from her heart
a lilting song to enchant all who hear.
Such magic, gift given to a chosen few,
creates a transcendent aura around her,
and all is hushed as she walks gently past;
this moment is too swift, too fleeting,
but its memory will remain forever.
Inspired by Sappho: 06
"You no longer remember me,
or you love another more"...[Sappho]
Once we sailed upon waves of passion,
we raised our sheets to the breeze
and felt the sun warm upon our faces,
as we reached our port with joyful ease.
But now, alone, I drift on crests
that have no care for this small bark,
tossed at random, its journey lost,
its fate consigned to the looming dark.
Where has my love gone: no parting,
no farewell kiss upon my longing lips;
had our journey been so doomed,
no safe haven for love-steered ships?
I may gaze upon the sea becalmed,
but feel no peace within my breast,
better to be lost, be dead in the deep,
than sleep alone and never come to rest.
Inspired by Sappho: 07
"I do not expect
to touch the heavens"...[Sappho]
Soaring to the stars
is not my fate,
nor to step upon the Moon;
I am earth-bound,
beneath the ken
of a fast flying comet;
a cosmos vast and eternal
ranges outwards,
unaware of my existence;
how small must I seem
against the scale of all that is,
how insignificant;
yet, if my song will touch
one heart, heal one wound,
I am content.
Seek not fame above all:
seek above all to be human,
seek to love.
Inspired by Sappho: 08
"Kerchiefs,
perfumed with violet
from Phocaea,
costly gifts"...[Sappho]
What shall I give my beloved?
Expensive gifts,
no matter how rare
or finely scented,
cannot reflect his goodness,
cannot reflect his soul;
no storied treasures
from far away lands
can match the bond of love,
the heart entwined with mine.
My offerings are humble,
small in value, not exotic:
a pledge of everlasting love,
to treasure and to hold
far beyond the bounds
of our slight mortal time.
Inspired by Sappho: 09
"The moon has set,
so too the Pleiades,
midnight is here --
time has fled by,
and I sleep alone"...[Sappho]
Time, thief of life,
you have ensnared me
in your web:
I cannot escape
the strands of Time.
Midnight has passed,
another day erased
from the allotted span
given by sparing Time,
and, yet, I sleep alone.
When will love awake,
banishing thoughts of Time,
that my heart may live
and my soul sing loud
against the onslaught
of the triple Fates?
The thread is drawn,
the knife cuts soon;
grant me Time
to love before I die.
Inspired by Sappho: 10
"I do not think that any maiden
who gazes upon the light of the sun
will have such skill, even in the future"...[Sappho]
Unique the gifts you have been granted,
bestowed by a Power that saw in you
something so pure and noble;
to follow in the path of ancient bards,
to harness the force of music,
and left fly your voice unbound
to heal the wounds we inflict,
no other maiden will ever have such skill.
Yet gifts so granted have their cost:
have they brought you peace as well as fame?
Have they blessed your gentle soul
as you alone have blessed ours?
Those whose lives you touch,
whose shattered hearts you soothe,
find not the words to tell you so;
but deep within, in darkest times,
your voice will issue forth
to remind us of the light outside.
Inspired by Sappho: 11
"Go, that we may see
the Lady of Dawn,
with her golden arms"...[Sappho]
The golden light of Lady Dawn
edges its silent way into my mind,
scattering the last dark remnants
of the moon-swept Mistress of Night;
soon Lord Sun will rise on high,
bringing me a blank day to write upon.
How shall I use this gleaming gift,
these new and unspoiled hours?
For my beloved: to speak those words
that only lovers dare to speak,
to hold close while the day recedes,
mindful of the relentless passing of time
that will, one day, wipe clean the slate.
Such love infuses my soul beyond limit,
heightens the dancing glow of daylight,
and keeps at bay the fear of blackest Night.
Let us rejoice in this brief moment,
let us not squander the gift that is this day.
Inspired by Sappho: 12
"I have a beautiful child, lovely
as golden flowers, my beloved Kleis,
a child I would not trade for all of Lydia"...[Sappho]
Young Kleis, how beloved you are,
innocence gently personified,
a child without sin,
a graceful flower
more precious than gold,
clinging to my breast.
Gazing at your wondrous eyes,
I see a special kind of beauty:
a new found delight in your soul,
a joyous embracing of life.
How long can such purity prevail,
how many dark years will it take
to turn your laughter to sorrow?
May those dread years be far away –
rejoice in this moment, lovely Kleis,
in this love that I feel
overcome me in your presence;
hold me with sweet fragrant arms,
that I may breathe you
into my enchanted heart.
Inspired by Sappho: 13
"Night's dark sleep
upon my eyes"...[Sappho]
Begging Sleep to come,
to loose my limbs
and bring oblivion,
in vain:
Night, with its dark arrow,
pierces my soul,
tormenting me
with pain.
No rest, no peace,
flames of the sky
flicker within me,
burning;
my only wish, my last desire,
to enter the darkness
and fulfill this deathly
yearning.
Inspired by Sappho: 14
"The stars encircling the moon
dim their glowing faces
as she bathes the earth
in the fullness of her light"...[Sappho]
On the lake all is silver light:
high above, the full moon,
concealer of stars,
reigns supreme –
Maiden Diana atop her throne.
Attended by graceful nymphs who play
in sparkling moonbeams,
the Goddess smiles upon the waters,
calming the autumnal winds.
Maiden Diana, giver of light,
protector of women,
guardian of the young,
mistress of animals,
hear our prayer
as it sweeps over your realm:
May your light dispel darkness
as winter burrows into our hearts;
be there no cold, no snow, no ice
that has the power to defeat
the moonlight in our souls.
Inspired by Sappho: 15
"Towards you, my lovely ones,
my thoughts cannot be changed"...[Sappho]
Lover and Beloved: the bond
that encompasses more than beauty –
the bond of the spirit
and not of the flesh.
There is a Love transcending all:
it seeks the Good, and,
in that search, it makes us whole.
Seeing your goodness, my lovely one,
revives a soul grown staid and tired;
when, long ago, I renounced Love
as a deceitful, treacherous enemy,
I had not yet gazed upon you;
but now, in your presence, I know
my thoughts of you will never change.
Inspired by Sappho: 16
"I know disgrace"...[Sappho]
In anguished exile
Sappho knew disgrace:
the lies that rejoiced
to make mock of her.
Far from her island home,
yearning to return,
she found no solace
for the grief that pierced her soul.
Patience, so they said,
you must be patient, Sappho,
soon they will forgive you
and welcome you back to Lesbos.
Her heart knew better,
knew the truth, and knew the pain:
there would be no homecoming –
in anguished exile, she honed her art.
Inspired by Sappho: 17
"Asleep on the bosom
of your gentle companion"...[Sappho]
The sweet fragrance of dawn,
inviting me to linger as you sleep;
eyes still closed, I hear you breathe
and feel your body start to wake.
No, let us not awaken yet:
we have unspoken words to share,
thoughts conveyed by touch alone.
How safe I feel with you beside me,
protected from harm,
encompassed by love.
Let this dawn stand still,
let time itself briefly stop;
this moment is ours –
we must cherish it in full.
Inspired by Sappho: 18
"She paces to and fro
as she remembers
her darling Atthis,
her tender heart
by grief consumed"...[Sappho]
Farewell, my beloved,
never to be embraced again,
nevermore to smile upon me;
how I mourn your departure,
a tear-filled leaving accepted
from the start.
Our love was brief,
a flower destined to fade
in spite of its beauty.
Consumed with grief,
I see your face once more
as I lie awake,
longing for sleep to come
and take away the pain.
Yet, even in daylight,
you remain in my heart –
ever in my heart,
wherever you may be.
My love attends you always,
once loved, never lost
from my soul.
Farewell, my beloved,
never forget me,
or I shall die.
Inspired by Sappho: 19
"The full moon came into view,
and the women took their place
around the altar"...[Sappho]
Samhain, the veil lifts
ever so slowly,
the passage opens
and we are one again.
I stand by the altar,
thinking of you,
missing you,
loving you;
a full moon shines
upon your face,
a weathered face
I once caressed,
thinking life would never end.
Your leaving, so sudden,
so painful,
so mourned;
but reaching out, at the altar,
we touch once more,
ever so gently.
Then, the veil falls,
the moon recedes,
you fade from view;
but, for that brief moment,
our love revived,
our spirits reborn:
life everlasting.
Inspired by Sappho: 20
"And I will settle my limbs
on soft pillows"...[Sappho]
Careless Sleep stays distant:
long past the midnight bell
no gentle dreams refresh my soul;
soft cushions, fragrant flowers
matter not when the heart feels pain,
feels agonizing sorrow.
Loneliness reigns supreme:
feeling lost, without love,
adrift on seas of endless torment,
I long for the oblivion of Sleep,
to no avail.
Sweet God of Sleep,
will you not end this torture?
Bring peace to one who doubts
the worth of waking, of living
when the spirit has died.
Inspired by Sappho: 21
"A child, a gracious girl,
picking flowers"...[Sappho]
Flora arose from her pallet of earth,
hearing the sweet sound of laughter;
it was a child, so free in the field
and running with the wind,
chasing birds and picking flowers.
The Goddess smiled, and at her nod
the fecund earth brought forth more roses,
then crocus, blue bells, and tulips;
the field became a quilt of many colours,
buds bursting in joy out of the soil.
The child, unaware of the Goddess nearby,
gently plucked the flowers for a bouquet,
an offering for her mother on a day
that marked the celebration of all life:
Floralia, thanksgiving to that Goddess
whose bounty embroiders the earth.
Inspired by Sappho: 22
"Irana, why does the swallow,
daughter of Pandion,
awaken me?"...[Sappho]
In the distant reaches of my mind
a swallow launches into song,
rejoicing at the newborn day;
penetrating the mist around me,
the song beckons me to arise
and hail the golden sun once more.
I cannot: my limbs refuse,
my mind retreats into the night,
and I push the melody away.
What song, what sound can dispel
the pain I feel deep within,
the wound that never heals?
A magic tune, a heaven-sent voice,
music that restores my heart
and lets me savour breath again –
for that alone I go in search,
and, in the seeking, pray to find
a sound to mend my shattered soul.
Inspired by Sappho: 23
"And to you
I shall offer up
a white goat"...[Sappho]
What can I offer the careless gods,
coaxing them to restore my hope?
The blood-drunk Furies have ravaged me,
rejoicing as they tear my flesh,
their heads crowned with snakes.
Cruel demons, why do you smile
at the burning pain you inflict,
why do you torment the innocent?
Spurning their ways, I seek no revenge:
their leaving is enough to repair
the soul within that lies in shards.
Away, Goddesses of Dark Despair,
retreat to your cave in the hill,
only to return when true sin
needs washing away in blood,
guilt full worthy of your bite.
Inspired by Sappho: 24
"Hesperos, bringing back
all that golden dawn scatters --
the lamb, the goat,
the child to its mother"...[Sappho]
Morning Star and Evening Star,
guiding all creatures to their homes,
lighting the way for those who were lost,
bright beacon of the sky;
cast your precious glow on all
who find love in their hearts,
who search for goodness amidst evil,
and welcome the stranger in from the cold.
Grant us all the wisdom to accept
what is, and ever will be,
time without end,
without lamenting what might have been.
Ephemeral beings, one breath from dying,
let us rejoice in this moment of wonder,
when all of creation looks at a star
and sees the vast beauty of the Universe.
Inspired by Sappho: 25
"Some say cavalrymen,
some say infantrymen,
and some say warships
are the most beautiful sights
on this dark earth;
as for me, I say it is
whatever you love"...[Sappho]
Can Beauty reside in weapons of war?
Gentle Sappho knew better:
the beauty of the beloved
outshines such agents of darkness.
She rejoiced in love, not death,
and gave her heart freely;
yet, for that she suffered:
as each beloved fell away,
she walked the shores of Lesbos in pain,
with only remembrance left.
To love invites suffering:
we give ourselves to another,
blindly, not knowing the end,
willing our hearts to be brave.
But not to love is death itself:
we reach out, we seek the other,
so that we may nourish
the soul that lives within.
Inspired by Sappho: 26
"Messenger of Spring,
the sweet-voiced nightingale"...[Sappho]
The sad song of the nightingale
breaks through my restless sleep:
broken sleep, broken dreams.
This herald of long-sought spring
awakens hope in my heart for naught:
winter is not yet gone, its cold wind
batters my mind with icy nightmares,
for one I love has gone, leaving me alone,
afraid of the darkness in my soul.
Soon the sun will drive once more
its golden chariot across the sky --
I avert my eyes, the light too strong
for me to endure, as I lie alone,
wishing only to be with the one I love.
Madness, love is only madness,
leaving destruction in its sweet wake.
Inspired by Sappho: 27
"If you are willing"...[Sappho]
Cloud obscures your face,
a veil of sadness descends
and dims the light of your eyes.
Carnival: I took you to the Carnival
and promised you would find joy there.
Selfishly, I wanted you with me,
but there were hidden, mocking jesters
who laughed and drove you away in pain.
I brought you only sadness,
and now your tears wash over me
and I too wish to escape the clouds.
Come with me, leave the Carnival,
there is love elsewhere, in a place
where painted faces will not come.
Inspired by Sappho: 28
"You now hate even the thought of me, Atthis"...[Sappho]
Too close, too entwined we became,
I asked too much of you, too often;
in my desperate need I became selfish,
inward looking, my desires, not yours,
and now I have lost you forever.
Too late have I understood the pain
I placed within your heart, sweet love
destroyed by a passion blind and greedy.
Farewell, my beloved, but in your hate for me
remember too the love we once shared,
how it raised our souls to the heavens
and made the dark night glow with fire.
Inspired by Sappho: 29
"Love has given me
the light and beauty of the sun"....[Sappho]
Thinking back, remembering the pain,
I understand anew the power of love,
love that will not let go, not look away
when sunlight is veiled by endless clouds;
it seeks the Good, it rejoices in life
and rejects the lure of dark escape.
Love will not be held in check
by the reins of a demon driver:
it rounds the course, free and alive,
knowing its strength lies within,
that nothing outside can destroy it.
Love is persistent: not daunted by denial,
not willing to go gently into the night;
it fights, with rage, to restore the sun,
to scatter clouds that herald storms
roiling with tides of destruction.
How could I have lost sight of this,
when, each day, I see it shine in your eyes?
Inspired by Sappho: 30
"The older women were joyful,
as were all the men,
who sang of Hector and Andromache
as if they were gods"...[Sappho]
Heroes: craving heroes we invent them,
then look upon our inventions as divine,
laying flowers at their feet,
bright garlands upon their heads.
Hector and Andromache were but mortals
sentenced by the Fates to suffer,
both in life and even after death –
not even Zeus, lord of ancient Greece,
could change the woe awaiting them.
Lovers: craving love we seek the other,
the one we have invented in our dreams;
but dreams do not feel, do not breathe,
dream lovers fade with the coming of dawn.
I seek no Hector, no godly man to worship:
I seek a soul as human as my own,
a heart as open to pain and suffering,
one to share whatever life I am granted,
to smile, to touch, to accept mortality.
Inspired by Sappho: 31
"Once you are dead,
no one will remember you,
no one will long for you,
because you have not partaken
of the roses of the Pierian Muses;
invisible even in Hades' realm,
you will flit among the dark Shades,
unknown"...[Sappho]
Immortality:
how Sappho dreamt her songs
would outlive the voice that sang them,
and be held in honour
by those yet to be born;
how she wished her name
to be remembered
long after she had passed through
the transient vale of life
into the eternal realm of Hades.
No different am I:
the roses of the Pierian Muses
almost seem within my grasp,
blooming in a garden
planted by my pen,
begging sun and rain to come
and give them sustenance,
that their fragrance be released,
a pleasure to all those
who see beauty in my words.
Doomed Sappho:
her life a cauldron of intense emotions,
her loves found, then lost,
her pain exposed for all to see;
baring her soul, she opened herself
to bitter accusations,
to a blind hatred that tried,
so hard, to destroy
what she had planted long ago
on rocky Lesbos.
I reach out to Sappho:
understanding her pain,
sharing her tortured love for the grace
of the human soul;
seeking her inspiration,
I bow before the Pierian Muses,
and ask their blessing
upon a hand that longs to record
the journey of a life
before its destined end arrives.
Inspired by Sappho: 32
"He who is beautiful
is beautiful only in appearance,
while he who is good
is beautiful in every way"...[Sappho]
The Beautiful and the Good:
how Sappho and Plato longed
to see these forms entwined;
for what is Beauty without Goodness
but a false façade of rotting wood?
Beauty alone is a liar:
it promises all, but gives nothing;
only Goodness speaks truly,
revealing the soul within,
healing all worldly wounds;
Goodness rejoices in light,
rejects all that is evil and dark.
Sappho and Plato both knew
the secret of happiness:
to do Good, to find Virtue,
even in the face of Deceit.
Inspired by Sappho: 33
"Immortal Aphrodite,
enthroned daughter of Zeus,
and clever weaver of wiles,
I entreat you,
do not overwhelm my heart
with sorrow and pain,
but come here to me now"...[Sappho]
What is love but a weaver of wiles?
Aphrodite, freed from mortal agony,
seeks amusement:
one human heart weighs not so much
in the fateful balance that she holds
as her pleasure.
Casting her deceptive spells,
the goddess traps our yearning souls
in fatal nets;
anguish enters us, disguised as love,
flowing through our receptive veins,
infusing us
with dreams as false as the goddess.
At the dawn of light at last we see,
but too late.
Love has infected our spirits,
like a snake, coiled and hungry,
spreads venom;
the poison flows, we feel it burning,
in vain we send forth endless tears upon
the flame of Love:
Aphrodite Invicta.
Inspired by Sappho: 34
"The god of love
yet again makes me tremble,
love bitter-sweet,
love irresistible"...[Sappho]
Bitter-sweet love:
the sweetness of the kiss
yielding finally to the
bitterness of the parting.
Irresistible Love:
unable to be vanquished,
piercing the vulnerable heart,
triumphant forever.
Sappho knew the power of love,
feared and respected it:
but, even as she trembled,
she longed to feel its might,
knowing full well that love alone
brought rapture, renewed life.
Inspired by Sappho: 35
"Like the hyacinth
crushed by shepherds
in the mountains"...[Sappho]
Hidden away, deep in the hills,
a solitary flower blooms,
offering itself to the sun,
filling the air with sweetness;
its origin unknown,
its presence unexpected
but full of grace and beauty,
until, one day, the shepherds come
and crush it to the ground --
Iphigenia of the Flowers,
young and precious,
doomed to destruction.
The beautiful becomes extinct
in a world of darkness;
no room left for beauty
when conquerors come
to rape and pillage.
Like shepherds in the mountains,
mad men bring the world
to the edge of oblivion.
Inspired by Sappho: 36
"May winds of torment
carry off those who rebuke me"...[Sappho]
Sappho knew hatred,
felt the sting of exile,
the loss of her island home,
sought vengeance.
‘Helping friends,
and harming enemies’ –
credo of the Greeks;
life was black and white,
friends and enemies,
nothing in between.
In her endless pain
she called upon the winds
to vanquish her foes;
let the Furies come
and drink their blood,
destroy them.
Are we so different
that we dare find fault
with the poet?
We love, and we hate,
treasure, and despise,
seek retribution,
delight in Nemesis –
Sappho lives on in us.
Inspired by Sappho: 37
"Once I look at you
I am incapable of speech,
my voice breaks,
a sudden flame
flares beneath my skin,
my eyes go blind"...[Sappho]
Beguiling Beauty,
capable of capturing our souls,
rendering us silent,
aflame with passion,
blind to reality.
Beauty is deception:
what lies beneath its veneer
is Truth: a truth that we
may not wish to recognize
in our blazing rapture.
Passion rules us,
robs us of our wits,
reduces us to children
playing with deadly fire;
I am burning now for you:
nothing else matters,
there is no Other,
all I am rests with you,
to nurture or destroy --
the choice is yours alone.
Inspired by Sappho: 38
"You came, and I desired you,
and you broke my heart
as it burned with longing"...[Sappho]
False passion burns the willing heart,
a deception that strips the soul
and leaves it trembling in fear.
What dreams I had of you:
a golden love, endless days
spent sharing an eternal bond;
we would be One, apart from All,
we would be lovers forever.
An evil vision: for what you desired
was carnal and nothing more --
to touch the body but not the mind;
and now you have gone, leaving
in your wake a shattered soul
eager to forsake all love,
desiring only to live alone.
Killer of passion, betrayer of vows:
you smile at my sorrow --
a hungry lion and its slaughtered prey.
Inspired by Sappho: 39
"I do not know
what I should do,
my mind falters"...[Sappho]
He holds his heart before me,
offers me his soul in love,
and I hesitate:
he is so golden, so innocent,
unaware of his own beauty,
and I am afraid,
not of him, but of myself --
that I may corrupt his innocence,
soil his beauty.
How I long to accept, to open
my entire being to his love,
without condition;
but there is too much pain in love,
this too my wounded heart knows well,
and it falters.
I do not know what to do,
and so I turn my eyes away,
and weep.
Inspired by Sappho: 40
"Let your graceful form stand
beside me as I pray, Lady Hera,
goddess invoked by the sons of Atreus,
those illustrious kings"...[Sappho]
Troy lay in ruins, razed by the sons of Atreus,
women and children put to the sword,
or, worse, taken into shameful slavery.
Where was honour in this, that such
illustrious kings could invoke a goddess?
Thousands dead for the beauty of Helen,
for the folly of Paris, and the ego of Achilles;
and still the gods mockingly played at battle
while mortals who paid them homage
fell to the ground in grisly death.
Yet Sappho called upon Lady Hera
to come and be gracious to her;
to grant her wishes, to bring her love.
Love and Death: gifts of the gods,
fickle divinities, demanding sacrifice,
even the deaths of children, of Iphigenia,
bound and gagged, throat slashed
by Agamemnon, her beloved father.
May such gods never gaze at me --
I have no prayers for them.
Inspired by Sappho: 41
"There is a meadow
where horses graze,
and it blooms with spring flowers
as the winds blow softly"...[Sappho]
Lying in the fragrant meadow
with you beside me, watching
flowers bending in the breeze,
I touch your face and see Hector of Troy,
the proud stallion eager for love.
Laurel forms a wreath around your head,
symbol of your victory in the games
sanctioned not by Apollo, but by Aphrodite.
So long have I awaited this moment,
this field with its carpet of blooms;
so long have you held my heart,
a willing captive, in your hands.
Eros glides upon the gentle winds,
the winged child of Love itself,
with no need now of stinging arrows;
the sun bestows his comely blessing,
no cloud will mar the sky above.
As nature grants this treasured gift,
let us not squander one second,
for who knows what storms tomorrow brings.
Inspired by Sappho: 42
"Frail Adonis is dying, Aphrodite,
what must we do?
Beat your breasts, my maidens,
and tear your garments"...[Sappho]
Rituals of death: how we try to persuade
our shattered hearts to beat again,
mourning our loss in a modern mode:
no rending of robes, no beating of breasts,
rather, torrents of tears, trying to heal
the pain that now invades our souls.
In darkened sanctuaries we gather
to speak words of courage and comfort,
to lament and remember, to hold
each other's hands in sorrow,
to sing hymns to assuage our grief,
and bow before sacred symbols of God.
But the one who has left us behind
will nevermore smile at us, embrace us,
offering a love without conditions;
the line has been drawn, unyielding,
between the living and the dead --
there is nothing we can do, sweet maidens.
Inspired by Sappho: 43
"The god of love shook my heart,
like wind battering oaks
on a tall mountain"...[Sappho]
Falling into love:
a sweeping wind races
through my eager body,
making my mind quiver,
my heart beat faster;
I am not who I was before,
all has changed now
that I gaze upon your face
and see a new world open,
a place I have never been.
Pierced and blinded by Eros,
I entrust my soul to you:
see how vulnerable it is,
how much it longs for love;
hold it gently, caress it softly;
should you let it go, withdraw,
I will give myself to the wind,
and, in its rage, I die.
Inspired by Sappho: 44
"Cyprus or Paphos
or Panormus holds you fast"...[Sappho]
Places are calling out to me:
islands blessed with sheltered harbours,
mountains with vast cloud-covered heads,
lakes sparkling with crystal waters,
plains where wondrous animals roam,
rivers that flow gently into the sea,
forests resplendent with glittering birds.
Beloved, you wonder why I must travel so,
why I do not hurry back to be with you --
time becomes short, my journey ends
too soon, so much yet to gaze upon,
so many other lands that I must know.
Forgive me, beloved, for my spirit yearns
to fly upon the winds, to taste of life
before the feast is over and I am gone;
but know that I shall be with you in time,
for all the time that we two shall spend
when our journeys on this world are over.
Inspired by Sappho: 45
"She was crying as she bade farewell,
and said to me:
'What misfortune has befallen us, Sappho,
for I do not want to leave you.'
And I responded:
Go, but remember me"...[Sappho]
Painful to leave,
painful also to remain:
a double-edged sword
hangs above my head,
torment on either side.
Saying farewell breaks
bonds that are much loved,
causes grief to others;
remaining will create
deep grief for only one.
Life at the cross-roads:
either path is hard,
either decision doubtful;
only when looking back
do we know how right
or how very wrong we were;
but now, at this fork,
we can only pledge to remember.
Inspired by Sappho: 46
"I desire neither honey
nor the bee"...[Sappho]
The Bitter and the Sweet –
neither offers me respite:
the bitter sting of the bee
is powerless to overcome
the barb now lodged within my heart;
the sweetness of pure honey
cannot erase the acrid taste
that already infuses my soul.
I exist between two poles,
a flickering shadow, wavering,
always shifting away from light,
towards the solace of the dark
that is so fatally seductive.
I once asked smiling Aphrodite
to cure my pain by granting love,
an easy cure, or so I thought;
yet even love of the purest kind
has not kept me firmly anchored
in a safe haven: like a fragile bark
I toss upon waters roiled by wind;
battered between waves of joy
and waves of sadness, I struggle
to stay afloat, to unfurl my sail
and greet the sun with courage.
Perhaps I must reject Aphrodite:
Dionysus awaits me on the shore.
Inspired by Sappho: 47
"Dika, place lovely garlands on your head,
weave stems of anise with gentle hands;
for the sacred Graces smile at heads
adorned with flowers, but turn away
from heads without garlands"...[Sappho]
My head unadorned in sorrow,
a sight the Graces would not see,
for sorrow frightens them away—
so much more pleasant to gaze upon
those free from pain, dancing in joy,
who make no demands upon divinities;
but in my sadness I seek a patient god
who will listen, not turn away from me
as unworthy of divine benefaction.
Dika, do such gentle gods still exist,
or have they all forsaken those like us,
who dare to bow before them unadorned?
You and I have felt the bitter sting of evil,
have watched as others passed us by,
casting their eyes down to the ground,
pretending we are no longer there
to pollute the sacred ground with woes
they have been fortunate to escape.
Come with me, my dear one, let us
entreat both gods and men for mercy;
even with no garlands on our heads
we may perhaps find one to comfort us.
Inspired by Sappho: 48
"Yearning for love"...[Sappho]
Walking alone on the wind-swept shore
I thought of you, looking out at the waves
that keep your soul apart from mine,
the image of the ship that carried you away
burned forever in my disbelieving eyes.
Yearning for love: how we dreamed of days
spent embracing each other, passion aflame,
a delightful fire pulsing within, a smoky haze
giving us shelter from the glare of those
jealous of the bond forged by such a blaze.
A burnt dream now, its ashes taken by the wind
and scattered so far from where we played
the tormented roles of lovers doomed to know
only separation, fated by the gods to gaze
upon waters much too deep to foster love,
with no fair shelter where we might stay
and hope our golden time would never end.
This bleak and lonely rock now hears me pray
that you, in time, may find another heart to cherish,
while I still walk this sea-soaked beach of clay.
Inspired by Sappho: 49
"I desire to tell you something,
but shame holds me back"...[Sappho]
Why do we feel ashamed to tell others
what is truly in our hearts, and put on
pretense, that we might seem different?
Rejection is the fear: for those who differ
dread rejection, isolation, being alone
and abandoned in their solitary worlds.
Taboos exert fierce power: if I tell you
how violent seizures rack my body,
how darkness haunts my wavering soul,
you may turn away in fear, in disgust
at the shameful disorders within me.
But no more will shame impede my words:
I am as I am, that will not change,
but I offer you a world far apart from yours
should you find the courage to enter;
love extends upon my guiding hand,
to take you places where the mind is free
and there is no longer fear of hatred.
Inspired by Sappho: 50
"Goddess, come to me once more,
free me from my torment,
grant all that my heart desires,
and become my comrade in arms"...[Sappho]
Farewell, Sappho, I will not come again
to grant your endless demands for love;
the Fates have decreed otherwise for you:
plunging from a cliff, falling into an abyss,
and, in death, watching tearfully as wise men
gathered your beloved poems atop a pyre,
proclaiming that your special passion
was anathema, leading only to perdition.
Cease your tears, fair poet, endings come
to everyone who walks this earthly vale;
your moment was brief, your star burned bright
but quickly died -- did you expect more?
Foolish Sappho, thinking art was all that mattered,
that touching hearts conquered sullen ignorance;
those you loved with an intensity that flared high,
into the heavens, left you alone in the end,
waving goodbye as you gazed upon their faces
one last time, remembering, always remembering
the joy once exultant in passionate embraces.
Farewell, Sappho, your goddess leaves you now.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The Bills: A Parody of Poe for Modern Times
I see the Postie with the bills -
Christmas Bills!
What a world of misery the delivery fulfills!
How they crinkle, crinkle, crinkle,
In the debt-bound air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to crinkle
With a dramamine delight;
Keeping cash, cash, cash
In a sort of fevered rash,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically trills
From the bills, bills, bills, bills,
Bills, bills, bills -
From the springing and the crinkling of the bills.
I see the yellowed debtor bills,
Christmas Bills!
What a world of misery their delivery fulfills!
Through the debt-bound air of night
How they sing out their delight!
From the spanking, banking notes,
Portending my ruin,
What a liquidator floats
To the indebted that listens, while she gloats
to the moon!
Oh, from out the fev'rish chills,
What a gush of sweating bankruptcy wills!
How it spills!
How it chills
At the Future! how it trills
Of the raptors that it fills
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bills, bills, bills,
Of the bills, bills, bills,bills,
Bills, bills, bills-
To the whining and the climbing of the bills!
Hear the loud not-paid bills-
Brazen bills!
What a tale of terror, now, their insolvency spills!
In the wax-blocked ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Far too overdue to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to a payment rather dire,
In a mad expostulation that the debtor not expire,
Leaping interst, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor,
Now–now to pay or never,
By the time of the January moon.
Oh, the bills, bills, bills!
What a tale their presence trills
Of Despair!
How they clang over cash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the tintinabulating ear!
Yet the ear, it foully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the interest ebbs and flows:
Yet the ear distinctly fills
With the jangling,
And the wrangling,
As the danger stinks and spills,
By the sinking or the stinking in the anger of the bills-
Of the bills-
Of the bills, bills, bills,bills,
Bills, bills, bills-
In the clamor and the clangor of the bills!
Hear the trilling of the bills-
Christmas Bills!
What a world of gloomy thought their monody fulfills!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the debt within their throats
Is a groan.
And the taxmen –ah, the taxmen-
They that hide among the waxmen,
All Alone
And who, trolling, trolling, trolling,
In their muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone-
They are neither man nor woman-
They are neither brute nor human-
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who bowls;
As he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A ball paid by the bills!
And his merry bosom fills
With the paean of the bills!
And he dances, and he thrills;
Counting time, time, time,
In a sort of Roma rhyme,
To the paying of the bills-
Of the bills:
Counting time, time, time,
In a sort of Roma rhyme,
To the robbery of the bills-
Of the bills, bills, bills-
To the sobbing brought by bills;
Counting time, time, time,
As he wills, wills, wills,
In a happy Roma rhyme,
To the trilling of the bills-
Of the bills, bills, bills:
To the trilling of the bills,
Of the bills, bills, bills, bills-
Bills, bills, bills-
To the crabbing and the grabbing of the bills.
And my mistress, Oh, my mistress,
is feeling oh so listless,
from the pain, pain, pain
of her mi-graine, graine,
contemplating bills, bills, bills,
as she swallows pills, pills, pills.
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