Long Sapphic stanza Poems
Long Sapphic stanza Poems. Below are the most popular long Sapphic stanza by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sapphic stanza poems by poem length and keyword.
Sappho fragment #2
translation by Michael R. Burch
How can I compete with that damned man
who fancies himself one of the gods,
impressing you with his "eloquence" ...
when just the thought of sitting in your radiant presence,
of hearing your lovely voice and lively laughter,
sets my heart hammering at my breast?
Hell, when I catch just a quick glimpse of you,
I'm left speechless, tongue-tied,
and immediately a blush like a delicate flame reddens my skin.
Then my vision dims with tears,
my ears ring,
I sweat profusely,
and every muscle in my body trembles.
When the blood finally settles,
I grow paler than summer grass,
till in my exhausted madness,
I'm as limp as the dead.
And yet I must risk all, being bereft without you ...
Sappho of Lesbos was so highly regarded by her peers that she was called The Tenth Muse. That was high praise indeed, because the other nine Muses were goddesses! Sappho has given us our terms "sapphic" and "lesbian." And she wrote the first "make love, not war" poem more than 2,500 years ago! She was ahead of her time, and probably ours as well. Keywords/Tags: Sappho of Lesbos, Sapphic, Greece, Greek, translation, woman, women, girl, girls, girlfriends, love, lovers, lesbian, homosexual, passion, desire, longing, lust, sex, sexy, sensual, sensuous, relationship
SAPPHO'S POEMS FOR ATTIS AND ANACTORIA
Most of Sappho's poems are fragments but the first poem below, variously titled "The Anactoria Poem, " "Helen's Eidolon" and "Some People Say" is largely intact. Was Sappho the author of the world's first 'make love, not war' poem?
Some People Say
Sappho, fragment 16 (Lobel-Page 16 / Voigt 16)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Warriors on rearing chargers,
columns of infantry,
fleets of warships:
some call these the dark earth's redeeming visions.
But I say—
the one I desire.
Nor am I unique,
since she who so vastly surpassed all mortals in beauty
—Helen—
seduced by Aphrodite, led astray by desire,
departed for distant Troy,
abandoned her celebrated husband,
turned her back on her parents and child!
Her story reminds me of Anactoria,
who has also departed,
and whose lively dancing and lovely face
I would rather see than all the horsemen and war-chariots of the Lydians,
or their columns of infantry parading in flashing armor.
Seriously questioning my own judgement
how could I have chosen you as my soul mate;
When look back to relation find I've ignored
some obvious signs.
Probably, I was looking through lens of my
desires, fully obsessed by own passionate
feelings; Many times as soul mate fail to ask
question, " Why so numb?"
Yes, that was my fault when immersed in great joy
of passion, failing to ask very basic
thought does he feel the same passionate way as
I feel about him.
Over period, I've observed you don't feel
the urge of meeting with me, even for days
always, give evasive replies, if I ask
about long absence.
Just don't understand, how you don't feel at all
a long gap without hearing from you creates
many unwanted negative thoughts in mind
about well being.
Don't you feel I need to see you sometime; don't
know where do I stand; do you have some feeling
for me, think what’s my expectations from you
about our future?
My questions on our relationship, you just
ignore or answer with vagueness; never know
when I'll see you again; Don't think we can build
a relationship.
~X~X~X~
(Poetic Form :: Loose Sapphic)
There are variations of the Sapphic Stanza;
the Loose Sapphic form created by Marie Marshall.
The form is composed over four lines, the first three being hendecasyllabic
(a line of verse having eleven syllables) and the fourth being pentasyllabic (Having five syllables).
The focus is on syllabic meter rather than accentual giving the poet more room to explore poetical device and grammatical schema within the verse structure.
Rhyme Pattern: Unrhymed
Using ‘X’ to represent each syllable the schema of the Loose Sapphic
form can be shown as thus:
X X X X X X X X X X X
X X X X X X X X X X X
X X X X X X X X X X X
X X X X X
Pasted from http://popularpoetryforms.blogspot.com/2013/02/loose-sapphic.html
Thanks to Mr Lawrence Eberhart for the resource at Poets COLLECTIVE Site.
*Image of Education by UY.
A Cog in The Machine
Life advances their kind of entrusting stays,
origin of roots possessing foundation,
flung to care sprouts variable promises,
~~executes each seed.
The great void advents the id of emptiness;
launched needs, yet farfetched and demanding the task,
contending the fathom fact of dimensions,
~~inception account.
Countless bearings operate the mechanism,
instants cognitive effortless life makers,
quintessential beats absence into the void,
~~marked units of time.
Simplistic explanative of a machine,
the inner workings of every component,
jointly toiling as a singularity,
~~a fitting duty.
A pristine canvas lengthens on a tripod,
while a sable paintbrush jabs an empty point,
visionist Seurat and Signac rethink art,
~~Pointillist purview.
A concert hall seasons an orchestra pit,
woodwinds, brass, percussion, strings, keyboards, chorale,
symphonic blends as a meek piccolo peal,
~~a highest-pitched tune.
The world is our stage where we fulfill our roles,
all taking part in a scene that is rehearsed,
a constant performance since opening night,
~~functioning beings.
Inconsequential entity's conjuring
queries who's who, what's what drives absoluteness,
amassed strays, exacts focus o'er all, for I ...
~~... am the unique one.
2022 May 17
*1st Place*
Pick-A-Title, Vol 30
~~Edward Ibeh: Judged 2022 May 29
*Title #3
HMS; 11,11,11,5 syllables x 32 lines = 8 sapphic stanzas
Why do we not listen? Why do we not hear the sound in the distance? Why do we feel we have to talk over a whisper? Why can't we hear a voice a little more crisper? Why do we doubt? Why do we feel we can go without? Why is this all that life's about? Why do we want more and need less? Why do we not already believe that we are blessed? Why do some of us believe that greed is the only way to bleed? When will we stop the violence? And will we start bowing our heads in silence? When will we start to believe? When will we start to grieve? How is there not something more powerful than me? When will love be the only thing that is? When will we realize the ONLY love is His? Why do we chase things that cannot be found? Why do we look in the wrong places to find love abound? When will we just take a moment to stop and think? Why can we not find the moment to just get our thoughts in sync? Why does life pass by in a blur? Why do we sometimes wish we can go back where we were? Why do we strive for change if no one's willing to change? Why are the broken left to deal with the pain? Why can't we be thankful for each breath? Why doesn't being alive reveal God's attest? Why are there more questions than answers? Why haven't we yet found a cure for cancer? Why is it that these questions seek so many replies?Why is it that we are told not always ask why?
What a place to find much-needed peace of mind,
to cast all nagging woes of the day aside.
This is the place to be; such an ideal place...
right by the shoreline.
I actively listened with my eyes sealed shut
as the wind took turns whistling and speaking
in whispers, revealing its long-held secrets...
ones I'll never share!
Hermit crabs were crawling about the wet sand.
Great White Egrets were feeding in the shallows.
I watched the waves splash against the jagged rocks....
as I looked for shells.
Avid surfers were gliding on their surfboards
Children on the beach were building sandcastles;
the bright midday sun reflected off the tides...
I dreamt of the sea!
Submitted for...
Your Best Sapphic Stanza Poetry Contest
Sponsored by William Kekaula
Date submitted: 08/21/2021
Submitted for...
BRIAN'S CHOICE W,any form,any theme poetry contest
Contest Judged: 5/27/2020 (Winner: 1st Place)
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Date written: 05/26/2020
Together forever was the language, a love like never before
From time to time at night, sitted the beacon at the beacony
Gazing at the stars and moon all alone, racing in my mind thoughts of her
I was craving and longing affectionately, to be rap around the arms of my lover
She was everywhere in my thoughts, except here with me, very crazy night
So lazy, quiet, and lonely without, my lover to cuddle with and Kudos her
Flashes of memories we shared together allover my mind
Causing fatalities everywhere just like thunderstorm
Lighting the way to my heart for depression to storm, my mind with tumultuous reaction
Left my brain wandering for her smells, sensing vacuum only, without a trace of my lover
Just like rain drops water dripping over my body, it's a rain drop of my tears and sweat
Leaving me wet and vulnerable without protective cover, my lover to hover me over
the petals of flower of love just like the, hummingbird hovering over the flowers.
She was the Cudos for assessing my depressive symptoms, the only scale for the outcome of my pains
The remedy to my illness, she always put me to rest, without no test, with my head on her chest
Always make me feel better and happier than the rest, she is the best I hope not better than my next.
Hushed whispers rise with the moon,
Tiny footsteps cross the cold linoleum,
I saw it all in the morning room,
I saw the figures.
Tiny voices echoing like squeaks,
Stealing crumbs from the breakfast table,
Height of barely my thumb,
I heard tiny creatures.
Once upon a time they dwelt,
In this house as well,
But after seeing them so often,
The thrill had gone.
Suddenly they disappeared,
The tiny Borrowers as they are called,
Leaving a space so big in my heart,
They all had gone.
My heart fluttered,
Losing the only interest,
In those last days,
My life had almost gone.
I was awoken with a crash,
So was someone else,
I quickly rushed to hide their mistake,
I had just got up to drink water.
Thankfully they were well hidden,
When my mother went to bed,
Eyes now shining with understanding,
Their thrill had gone.
I saw again their mischiefs,
Even a part of few,
Life slowly returning,
Happiness had come.
06/16/2020
Submitted to: Pick-A-Title,Vol 19-4 Sapphic Stanzas Poetry Contest
Title Chosen: The Thrill is Gone
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Inevitable that we should reach that age,
when our mind is past the delusional stage,
the Sun has not far to go before setting,
when we reach mystic sixty!
Perception, tolerance and attitudes change,
Fate reads our life book, smiles, turns another page,
Nostalgia floods, will life soon be closing?
when we reach mystic sixty!
Young beautiful, buxom blonde’s high heeled image,
that haunted us all through our early teenage,
but now they all evoke parental feeling,
when we reach mystic sixty!
Leisure times in pub with mates from college,
merry jokes of past days, beer sourced courage,
wise greying hair, eyes with contentment shining,
when we reach mystic sixty!
Our words begin to sound like some old adage,
we learn to handle conflicts and show no rage,
our lives suddenly have a whole new meaning,
when we reach mystic sixty!
All needs are happily met well within wage,
with strangers on lone walks readily engage,
can spend hours in garden digging or weeding
when we reach mystic sixty!!
Have now come a long way, so don't disparage,
enjoy peace and calmness of a seasoned sage,
Some scope for spiritual awakening,
when we reach mystic sixty!
Brian Strand
Completely your choice, any theme any form
Written 13/10/2020
Going to school, meeting colleagues & students,
pulled off my time
Sharing tons of laughters,was a shrill of joy
Explaining the chapters with vivid examples gained
a good rapport.
Exchanged bunch of happiness..
Pupils bustling around me,resembled like moon revolving around earth
Their cute little answers for the question I ask,bursted
balloon of smile
The love and care they showered up on me has no limits.
Unconditional love is immeasurable...
Lovely students badged me as their young mother,
Coz they enjoyed my teaching and humour filled friendly classes
Colleagues loved me like a child and protected me like a flower.
Profession plunged with fondness...
Now, we sit in our homes,fearing the pandemic cause
Drowned in grief,hearing to news channel's,incurring high loss
Due to lockdown, standard of living has gone for a toss.
Disastrously the thrill is gone....
6-7-2020
Note:Pick-A-Title, Vol 19 - 4 Sapphic Stanzas - Poetry Contest(N/A)
Title chosen:5.)The Thrill Is Gone
Submitting to STRAND COMPLETELY NEW (25) ,any form,any theme
Poetry Contest. Sponsored by Brian Strand.
“I open the door and cross the threshold of imagination”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lavish locks sprawl pillowed in peace this morn.
Gently whiskered cheeks hint of last night's lipstick
Tensions banished blue grassy fiddling lingers
Let's take it easy
I'll make the omelets
while you get a shower, dear.
Oh? You'd rather play some more?
Alright, eats postponed.
Pounding rhythms drumming heartbeats
Satiation lullaby.
In stillness your breath meanders its way
through the vast concert hall of my naked
vulnerability cooing minor
keyed assurances of something finer.
Rifts while integral to the theme render
our phrasing discordant at times yet
your hard earned skill in handling your fender
is spawning a wisdom I don't quite get
but it soothes and smooths, warms and relaxes
us both and though still stressed out by taxes
and injustice, fear and idiocy
frustrations from others unable to see
we remember our gift of harmony
and sing our twin souls free of enmity.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The three forms used to construct this poem are Sapphic Stanza, Sedoka, and Sonnet.
Written by Nancy Jones on the evening of August 6, 2011.
It was inspired by Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~ and her contest entitled “Three Gems”