Archive for Poetry

Key of Sappho

I love Sappho.  Really, she is a wonderful kind of figure from history.  So little known but a character who has had such an impact on art, literature, feminism – so many things.   She could well afford to hit on all the lovely young ladies in her coterie being upper class, but still, she’s pretty cool.  She would totally be one of those people who I’d take my TARDIS to go hang out with.  I’d take it as a personal badge of pride if she hit on me.

Hymn to Aphrodite

To my side: “And whom should Persuasion summon
Here, to soothe the sting of your passion this time?
Who is now abusing you, Sappho? Who is
Treating you cruelly?
Now she runs away, but she’ll soon pursue you;
Gifts she now rejects–soon enough she’ll give them;
Now she doesn’t love you, but soon her heart will
Burn, though unwilling.”

Most of what has survived is fragmentary from her time (she lived around 600 BC) but even Plato had nice things to say about her.

If a book of ancient writings were to be found I would love it to be a book of her writing.  There is just something so soft and eloquent yet perhaps more confident and urgent than I could ever manage.  So much longing and desire, loss and love.  I’m not a girly girl but I still think it is just amazing.

This was my attempt at something Sappho-like – Key of Sappho.

let time drip like honeyed sugar
golden, almost too sweet to bear
pool languidly, shimmering and still

if i happen to close my eyes to sleep
i’ll rest contentedly, safely, and wake
warm, my body surrounded by you

let my fingers soon learn to play
music that only we can hear
with soft touches upon your skin

if there are no words upon my lips
it is because i have started to find
more important things than speech

let all sights and sounds delight,
senses awaken and catch flame
blaze brightly but not burn out

music history

singing glory hallelujah
or fist raised to revolution
tonight I sing these songs
a musical history of me

i’ve got those prison blues
and i hear that requiem
in D minor so heavy
for such a child’s heart

but raises with glory be,
a harmonious blacksmith
somebody all shook up
in blue suede shoes

out comes the rebel
the punk and ska girl
black sails in the sunset
famous monsters and more

those days gone past now
in mosh pits and open fields
face to the band, hand to the sky
that smile just as wide

mellowed some with english folk
sounds of my home to remain
there are more years ahead of me
to listen to old and new melodies

the memory’s fragments

unfocussed imagery
near concious scenery
a half formed dream
almost sleeping it seems

a war won or lost
or love at any cost
realized and then died
before the sunrise

i do not wish to wake
consciousness will take
these fragile moments
the memory’s fragments

hover there momentarily
in a warm, confused reality
before the dawn breaks
and more solid form makes

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