Greek Poems - Poems about Greek

her steps rhyme with mine an echo between yearn and daunt I ask her to keep pace, her shadows pine voices behind me, slick and gaunt —the phantoms want to keep her the light ahead hazy, yet I demur we’re so close—or too close panic surged deliriously, in prose— my eyes turn to my asphodel... her lost shadow whispers: ‘farewell.’...

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asphodel petals— a shadow crossing the grass I stepped on a name ______________ A minimalist reflection on mourning and the erosion of identity, set in the asphodel fields of Greek myth, where unremarkable souls wander without memory… ...

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It may be one of the most poetic ending of all Icarus’ fall, that is Stupid, prideful Icarus The boy who flew too close to sun and expected not to burn He learned that things can be beautiful But intangible and fatal Everyone talks about his death How greedy he must be to have the opportunity to fly...

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reversed and reformed repost edit. once before humans walked the earth. before Adam and Eve before the trees and the air we breathe there was one- one physical body with four legs four arms and two heads as well as one soul accompanied by one heart. as full of love and self as they could be....

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Leaves labor in loam, roses endure the drouth’s weight, From the east, petals peel, in soft drift concatenate. Chariot’s beacon soars to the glint’s edge of tomorrow To know, to grow, to sow, to go Ooooh… ahhh… mmmm… Aaaah-ooooh… ooooh-aaaah… Mmm-hmmm… ohhh-ohhh… ahhh… Oooh-waaaah… ooh… mmm… ahhh… Brightly Shiny Threshing floor Sacred door The axis wobble Eternal circle Summer adieu Seasons...

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Callimachus English translations For Gail White To the Cup-Bearer by Callimachus translation by Michael R. Burch Decant the wine then toast "To Diokles!" Nor does the beautiful boy Achelous touch his hallowed ladlefuls. So beautiful the boy, Achelous, passing beautiful, and if any disagree, let me alone comprehend real beauty. Pitiless ship, having borne away my life’s sole light, I beseech you...

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These are my English translations of poems and epigrams by the ancient Greek poet Callimachus aka Kallimachos. His surviving poems come from various sources including the Greek Anthology and the Garland of Meleager. The epigrams of Callimachus were so admired in antiquity that they became part of the school curriculum. For Gail White, who put me...

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* Everyone grieves in their own way ~ time will only tell if healing comes, * for some, deaths blanket; unbearable and Thanatos is nearby —poetess * * Despair? so be...

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“But, for my own part, it was Greek to me” Julius Ceasar Act 1 scene 2 by Shakespeare trying to study the language of ancient Attica is like studying all the rules in mathematica it is all Greek to me! ...

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Phyllo Sweet taste of baclava. Drizzled honey. Crunchy walnuts. Hint of nutmeg. Warmed to delicate crispness. My mouth waters. Eyes light with delight. Nose twitches in anticipation. But……. Here I stand at midnight. My kitchen a doughy mess. Rolling and re-rolling phyllo dough My trials and tribulations on display with cracked and torn doughy pieces spread across the counter. Exhausted, ready to give up. The baklava seems miles away. Time wasted proving I...

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In the chambers of the caves, I sought refuge from all the moral forgeries spreading over the land. Holding my lamp aloft, I pursued solace in childhood alcoves. In the chambers of endless caves, I explored myriad twisting pathways longing for the playful mirth of recall. But Cerberus confronted me, snarling, preventing my passage beyond his gate. In the...

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As our teeth chatter What we speak becomes all Greek ~ Winter at its peak ...

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CORINNA I come to sing of heroes' and heroines' courageous deeds.—Corinna translation by Michael R. Burch Mount Helicon, father of fair offspring, friend of the wayfarer, beloved of the Muses!—Corinna translation by Michael R. Burch Terpsichora calls me to sing beautifully of heroes for Tanagra's white-clad daughters and my city rejoices, hearing my clear, evocative voice. —Corinna translation by Michael R....

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NOSSIS There is nothing sweeter than love. All other delights are secondary. Thus, I spit out even honey. This is what Gnossis says: Whomever Aphrodite does not love, Is bereft of her roses. —Nossis translation by Michael R. Burch Most reverend Hera, the oft-descending from heaven, attend your Lacinian shrine fragrant with incense and there receive the linen mantle your noble child Nossis, daughter of Theophilis...

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ANYTE OF TEGEA Stranger, rest your weary legs beneath the elms; hear how coolly the breeze murmurs through their branches; then take a bracing draught from the mountain-fed fountain; for this is welcome shade from the burning sun. —Anyte translation by Michael R. Burch Here I stand, Hermes, in the crossroads by the windswept elms near the breezy beach, providing rest to sunburned...

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