Long Sweeter Poems
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Ancient Greek and Roman Epigrams
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, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Here I stand, Hermes, in the crossroads
by the windswept elms near the breezy beach,
providing rest to sunburned travelers,
and cold and brisk is my fountain’s abundance.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sit here, quietly shaded by the luxuriant foliage,
and drink cool water from the sprightly spring,
so that your weary breast, panting with summer’s labors,
may take rest from the blazing sun.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This is the grove of Cypris,
for it is fair for her to look out over the land to the bright deep,
that she may make the sailors’ voyages happy,
as the sea trembles, observing her brilliant image.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
There is nothing sweeter than love.
All other delights are secondary.
Thus, I spit out even honey.
This is what Gnossis says:
Whom Aphrodite does not love,
Is bereft of her roses.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Most revered Hera, the oft-descending from heaven,
behold your Lacinian shrine fragrant with incense
and receive the linen robe your noble child Nossis,
daughter of Theophilis and Cleocha, has woven for you.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Stranger, if you sail to Mitylene, my homeland of beautiful dances,
to indulge in the most exquisite graces of Sappho,
remember I also was loved by the Muses, who bore me and reared me there.
My name, never forget it!, is Nossis. Now go!
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pass me with ringing laughter, then award me
a friendly word: I am Rinthon, scion of Syracuse,
a small nightingale of the Muses; from their tragedies
I was able to pluck an ivy, unique, for my own use.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Keywords: ancient, Greek, translation, epigram, epigrams, epitaph, epitaphs, lament, mourning, funeral, grave, death, death of a friend, dead, bereavement, eulogy, funeral, goodbye, loss
A girl was walking through the night
Afraid and all alone
She sunk for moments of respite
Upon a blackened stone.
What flakes were these that sparkled bright
And flurried in the breeze?
What specks of gold did grace the night
And rest upon the trees?
Up from her perch she stumbled on
Into the silent black
But 'twas in vain, the specks were gone
So then she foundered back.
She found the stone on which she set
All laid with dust around
The stars of heav'n the earth had met
And blanketed the ground.
The stardust, now a handbreadth thick
Had melted from the sky
She saw a once sedate old crick
With flames now floated by.
She gathered stardust in her hand
And held it by her face
It hovered there, in ways unspanned
Held up by empty space.
Her face did glint with motes of gold
Her wavy hair did gleam
The stroke of twelve the townclock tolled,
Around her shone a beam:
She looked to see its molten source,
The sun had joined them too;
In place of burnished bronze its force
Was emanating blue.
With both her hands she caught the sun
And held him firmly there
She shook him gently just for fun
And threw him in the air;
"Oh, Sun, how come you left the sky
To be a little ball?
Wherefore from glory did you fly
And now art pale and small?"
Then said the sun, " The stars had left
They had a merry time
And all alone I felt bereft
So moved to sweeter clime;
Said he, "It was so cold and still
Without my fellow stars,
All scattered 'round upon this hill
As far away as Mars;
So here I came to be a ball
Of bright electric blue
My starry kin with wit appall
And have a chat with you."
"Oh, Sun, you do not understand!
The day is black as night
Now who will fill this darkened land
With rays of warmth and light?
"And what of you?" she asked the dust
That sparkled at her feet.
"Back to the sky I think you must
Your twinkling forms repeat."
"Now truth we see," quoth ev'ry star
In one according rhyme,
"Back to the sky we'll roam afar
Until the end of time."
Then said the sun, "Oh, now I see,
I thought that I was trite
So back the way I was I'll be
To shed abroad my light."
Then off they rushed in waves of flame
Their rightful place to gain;
No man can e'er the heavens tame,
That surely isn't plain.
Whene'ere alone in dark of night
That girl recalls her friends:
And now I think the time is right
So here my story ends.
~Written December 25th 2012
I am dreaming the past
Past when KBC was the only station
Each morning started with the anthem of the nation
We had to know your intention
Before saying anything through the station
Each anchor had a level of education
While talent was just an addition
Any deviation
Captured the important attention
Of the head of the nation
Dreaming my past
Is all I want to do last
Streams of dreams I rather forget fast
Like dreams from my father
That choices have consequences
A grammatical sentence that became our sentence
Is every correctly stated statement correct?
This kind that litters my mind
Making me bitter
Tearing my heart into litres of tears
These dreams make me shy
Shy to try mention my name
My name that brings me shame
Shame I cant tame
Cant tame because my mind is lame
Tell me why my kind cant cry
When all I dream are tongues of fire
From gangs on hire
With orders from higher
Higher rot that burns like fire.
Dreaming that I cant have money in my pocket
Without getting something in their jacket
Vampires so scary
Scattered in my neighborhood
Thirsty for the last drop of my blood
Limiting my limitless potential
Potential so essential
For resource mobilization
With equal allocation not hurting expectation
For relocation before suffocation.
Dreams to revitalize my generation
A possible solution for this situation
In transformation of my nation
To grow without corruption
That is like sugar
Sweeter it becomes
And disaster it welcomes
But I dare dreams
Of peaceful elections
An end to preventable infections
Through certified injections
And an education without leakage
As a privilege
For everyone in my village
Laying my head on the pillow
Feels like my heart becomes hollow
From the beams of dreams that follow
Makes me want to jump from the window
And fall on the ground so low
Flickering pain into my bone marrow
Afraid it could happen again on the morrow
What do you see in your dreams?
Streams of dreams that my head cant keep
Make me wish for beams of dreams to turn the leaf
Of people who have a resolve and a belief
That we are better together
And we need each other
Without a bother
Of clannism
Of tribalism
Of racism
But a nation of inclusion
By implementation of all legislation
In word and spirit
Envisioned in our constitution
That beams our dream.
If my poetry moves you to witness to stranger
Just know that I'm touched that you're "sharing my ride,"
For the fact is that giving can be fraught with danger,
But those that it calls feel much warmer inside!
I have so little knowledge to call my invention
Some came from my parents, from people I've met
But the gift of the spirit defies all convention
It's holy, profound, precious gift without debt.
Even muse I call gift, for it waters my soul's growth,
An alternate path that the spirit can take
Truth that's flavored by strangers, by loved ones, I've seen both,
Fresh air never sweeter, Grace purges mistake!
Spirit truth has no owner like jewel or gold dust,
It's one with Creation; you'll know it by feel.
Although Midas (1) got gold, all his love turned to soul rust,
The gift of the Spirit is simply to heal!
Brian Johnston
June 13, 2017
Poet's Notes:
(1) From Greek mythology - Wikipedia
"One day, as Ovid relates in Metamorphoses, Dionysus found that his old schoolmaster and foster father, the satyr Silenus, was missing. The old satyr had been drinking wine and wandered away drunk, to be found by some Phrygian peasants who carried him to their king, Midas (alternatively, Silenus passed out in Midas' rose garden). Midas recognized him and treated him hospitably, entertaining him for ten days and nights with politeness, while Silenus delighted Midas and his friends with stories and songs. On the eleventh day, he brought Silenus back to Dionysus in Lydia. Dionysus offered Midas his choice of whatever reward he wished. Midas asked that whatever he might touch should be changed into gold.
Midas rejoiced in his new power, which he hastened to put to the test. He touched an oak twig and also a stone; both turned to gold. Overjoyed, as soon as he got home, he touched every rose in the rose garden, and all became gold. He ordered the servants to set a feast on the table. Upon discovering how even the food and drink turned into gold in his hands, he regretted his wish and cursed it. Claudian states in his In Rufinem: "So Midas, king of Lydia, swelled at first with pride when he found he could transform everything he touched to gold; but when he beheld his food grow rigid, and his drink harden into golden ice then he understood that this gift was a bane and in his loathing for gold, cursed his prayer."
Your vision is clear
No longer deafened
But able to hear
Child to man, you stand
Your time is now
Lashing motion of your judgmental hand
Tongue and teeth gnashing a solid command:
'As a man forged flesh and bone
Of my native mother's land
Risen from soil and stone
Formed by my father's hand
Sworn by purity, prosperity and protection
Oppositional lines were crossed
We will not fall to, but fight this infection
As we sight this spreading viral sign
We become an antibody when barrel and skull align
Unabided are the restraints of government laws
Severed for our birth-given right
As men of white
To follow a greater cause
You say I am but one
Yet I am the face of the revolution
I am the hand of your salvation
The hope of this beloved nation
And I am a bullet inside a chamber of many
Justified death and destruction beside me as any
This bloodline of the swine
Inhale it's deportation
Standing pure and solid, we shine
Exhale it's existence
Rid this worldly contamination
They have no quality to bear such arrogance
Take this hand of salvation
Join our march to everlasting victory
Walk with us these winding roads of Hell
Fly this flag of truth and know our story
So truth is exactly what you'll return to tell
So that you will see what I have seen
And come to understand what we truly mean
When along with our hoisted flag
Bleeds the head of the Z.O.G. Machine.
So the Death's Head marches
Just like the sea before the storm
The darkened depths of destructive minds churn
A single motion of haunting form
To ensure that this scum will learn
A bullet among many, indeed
Columns of each an idea
Bearing seed
A mirror image of one another
Vengeance consumed for the rape of their mother
The cities burn as the S.S. discern the corpses
From the walking dead
Still forward marches the Death's Head
The tide rises in a hailing salute of hands outstretched
High toward the crimson sky
Carving a path toward gates Heaven bound
The streets, a tranquil lullaby of no sweeter sound
Eyes cast upward
Swastika pupils dance along a hellfire grin
Certainty that this can be no sin
A chant for succession in the hour of white power
Proud, bloodstained and pale
They chant, "Sieg heil!"
With grace and glory, our men of alike blood
Hold high both head and hand
Against this threat we'll never fail to stand
They can't hide from the drowning tide
We are the Black Band.
My heart is inditing a poetic matter
My tongue is the workmanship of a divine potter
My glossa is the verbal-scripter of a meditative writer
These words are the instinctive outburst of my soul
Liken to the boiling fountains of geysers of shoal
It is so sad when the heart is cold with a good matter
It is even worse when it is warm with a bad matter
I speak of the things my tongue has composed concerning the groom and the bride
Words can never describe how we all feel today
Such feeling will be expressed in poetic words than kept, yet
With all the splendor of such a feeling, there is one most important thing
Love is the most important thing
What a word we use for an idea so immense and powerful
What a one syllable for a theme so divine and wonderful
Love is a mighty power, not just to propose with a Rose flower
It has altered the flow of history; it has solved every unsolved mystery
Love lightens every burden, and bears every hardship as though it were nothing
It renders all bitterness acceptable and delectable
Nothing is sweeter than love, nothing stronger
Nothing higher, nothing wider, nothing more like fire
Nothing to desire, nothing fuller or better in heaven or earth
For love is born of God, Love flies, runs and leaps for joy
It is free and unrestrained, love cannot be chain
Love ardently transcends all bounds, Love feels no burden
Takes no account of toil, and attempts things beyond its strength
Love is not fickle nor a tickle, nor is it formalities nor vanities
Love is a revelation, a desire deeper than civilization
Love’s dimensions is built on Christ foundation
To the glorious groom and beautiful bride
One elegant, one glorious, evoking admiring glances
Two loves passed down the long wide aisle
Between two lengthening rows of smiles
God has brought you together, not to be torn asunder
To be united in His love, with faith in God above
This is not a mere ceremony but a Holy Matrimony
Today as you begin the rest of your life
Together forever as husband and wife
May your dreams come true, with love and more
Adventures to have and the world to explore
As you celebrate your wedding this day
As you exchange your vows, I just want to say
These wedding memories will linger in our heart as a treasure
And seeing family, love ones and friends here is a pleasure
The Hero, Raven, Poe And First Encounter,
Part One, Dedicated To Master Poe
Midnight chill, moon glowing a bloody red
gone life's sweeter thrills, am I truly dead
room has that smell, death groaning echoes deep
dark ringing its bell, devils stir and creep.
Must seek shelter, as last fading rays flee.
Else Evil shall eat away all of me.
Down black abyss, cast into hellish pits
Raven set its kiss, there lay body bits
blood flowing crimson bright, in gushing streams
such wickedness this night, tis not a dream!
Must seek shelter, as last fading rays flee.
Else Evil shall eat away all of me.
Alone at three doors, one must I dare choose
time counted by roars, beasts coming by two's
door I chose, knocked heaving breath out of me
from stone floor I rose, lost by Fate's decree.
Must seek shelter, as last fading rays flee.
Else Evil shall eat away all of me.
There grew a great tree, it limbs dripping blood
a voice spoke to me, behind me a thud
as vicious beast, its green eyes all aglow
said now I will feast, for my dark to grow.
Must seek shelter, as last fading rays flee.
Else Evil shall eat away all of me.
At tree's huge base, a beauty lay in chains.
fright on her face, near her bloody remains.
prayer said, sword and shield lay at my feet
fight I dread, yet victory was so sweet.
Must seek shelter, as last fading rays flee.
Else Evil shall eat away all of me.
With beauty in tow, upward we both fled
then a blow, as Raven this black-curse said
in chains I have Poe, he you were to free
now you know, will you stay to battle me?
Must seek shelter, as last fading rays flee.
Else Evil shall eat away all of me.
In distant cell, Poe in iron chains wept
saying this is Hell, decades since I've slept
run fast and far, from this place return not
your courage I admire, free what you got!
Must seek shelter, as last fading rays flee.
Else Evil shall eat away all of me.
(Part One Ends)
R.J. Lindley, Jan 8th, 1978, edited- 2-06-2020..
Rhyme, Poe dedication,
( The Battle With Darkness And Raven's Wicked Curse )
Part Two -- To be written.... this year...
New Note, ( 2-06-2020: This old poem was never finished.
Soon I will begin composing part two to conclude this old fragment.
Forty-two years flown by now and I am hoping I get to complete this old fragment.
There lived an old lady
On Widegulley Street
Who owned a black cat
With little white feet.
One Halloween night,
She formed a cute plan
To dip the cat’s feet
In black paint in a pan.
With her fully black cat
Tucked under her arm,
She dressed as a witch,
Complete with some charms.
Out on her porch
She stood waiting to greet
All the girls and boys
Who’d soon come trick-or-treat.
From the old lady’s hands,
The cat wiggled free,
And fell to the ground,
Then took off down the street.
The cat sped on down
Towards the end of the road,
And on towards three boys
Exiting their abode.
The three boys were leaving
To go trick-or-treat
When they heard the patter
Of the cat’s little feet.
All three in the group
Were all superstitious,
So when they saw the cat,
They treated him vicious.
The three boys chased him
And tugged on his tail.
They grabbed him and caught him,
And drug him to the well.
They aimed to get rid
Of this “evil” black cat
By having one boy
Throw it in with the bats.
Before reaching the well,
The cat scratched the kid’s arm,
And the boy then dropped it
In fear of more harm.
The cat fled to a tree
Where it ran up it quickly.
All three boys followed,
And looked up at him sickly.
One of the boys
Began up the oak,
But he picked a wrong branch
That was too thin and broke.
He fell to the ground
Right on his behind
Then the cat leaped on down
And shot to the curbside.
The second boy bolted after
On the soft, squishy ground
Still wet from the rain
With puddles all ‘round.
He tripped on a root
And tumbled on down
Face down in a puddle
And came up with a frown.
The last child watched
As the cat hurried on.
Its feet splashed in a puddle
And the black paint was gone.
The young boy realized
They’d wasted their time.
Their night was near gone now
Because of their crime.
The cat scuttered home
And up to his keeper,
Where she picked him up
And treated him sweeter.
She took him inside
And placed him in the floor,
Then sat down with him
After closing the door.
In front of the fireplace,
They both stayed and rested,
Because on that night,
Their fear had been tested.
She was glad the cat was home,
And he was glad to be there.
Next Halloween night,
Both of them would beware.
4/14/2018
. The orange and gold leaves are falling, days are shortening, a little more
everyday.
The chill in the air and brisk wind tells us to prepare for the cold. Daddy makes
grumbling
children gather the firewood onto the porch from the wood shed. Brother makes us
get
enough for the week so we don't have to get the wood in again till the next week.
The
splinters are the worse part of carrying wood to the house, spending time with my
brother,
Robbie, is the best. Robbie is four years older than me, and much wiser, secretly he
is my
hero, though I would never tell him that piece of information; he would use it against
me and
his ego is already big enough!
First thing each morning, we all gather around the fire after our parents get it
burning; rooting in like hogs to the teat to get the middle spot. The middle spot gets
heat on
three sides, and also was the center of attention. As the flames rose and kissed our
cheeks
a rosy hue, it was then that we had to turn to our back side to prevent permanent,
scorching to the face and clothes. Little times in life, such as these,
stand out to me as I get older, and make my memories sweeter. The people who
loved me,
not the accomplishments in my job nor my talents, warm my memories today.
The heat source was really important in our home, as you can see, in more ways
than one; the heat we all seek and need for survival, but also a camaraderie
developed
between siblings watching the burning logs and seeking warmth. My eyes saw the
flames, tall
and short, red and yellow. Charcoal embers radiate the red glow, as they become
ashes that
are poured out on the ground, which was also a chore of the children, with much
grumbling
and complaining...
Today I stand by the hearth with my new family, watching the embers turn the
wood
black then red and into grey ash dust. I feel the warmth and remember my childhood;
it is a
fond memory. The heat is needed and welcome on aching joints. The flame grows
higher and
becomes alive before my eyes, dancing. I remember a bush that was not consumed
by the
fire. This wood is being consumed slowly before my eyes. Memories are alive like the
flames;
memories become written stories to pass the time and keep my sweet memories
alive in time.
Humbly holding forth this bouquet of flowers
Within these sincere and love filled hands ~
Marked by lines that have defined themselves, through time....
The spectrum of colors across these pages, these shades
Endlessly, from black unto white; crossing these shadowed avenues
This maze, that many they have called life?
Never looking towards the left nor the right
Straight ahead, many of them say....
But what are these things unto myself, as I question them all now?
Shall I trade eternity in paradise, for this moment of sunlight, in life?
To let darkness' desires, forever steal this hope, from my soul? No!
I shall not entangle myself within these webs of sorrow....
For I have seen the face of pain, and have beheld its eternal grave
I have walked the highways, the byways, along these corridores of time
Viewing both joy and sorrow-profoundly so!
Grasping thorns while holding stems
Tasting, both bitter and sweetened wines
Yet realizing within the end, by mercies touch
That these shimmerings are merely mirages
Not worth the dust, from which they were exhumed; born
This black hole of souls starvation....
Skeletal bones of its aftermath, dangling upon its umbilical cord
Only to be severed, forever within its end!
But rather I shall hold these flowers, with hands, strengthened by "The Light" ~
Until the pages of life that we know, are folded and forever discarded away
For this is love, that I have come to know-passing winds, deepened breaths, lies....
"My Love" for you is not, encumbered by the here and now
Yet is always within my heart and sight-this different array of colors ~
A bouquet I have come to now see and to hold
A sweeter flower, this, Heavens true love and rose!
Within these humbled hands, softened, yet forged through the flaming fires, of truth....
Placing within one hand, this sharpened sword, meant only, for darkness' heart
And this is "Love," unto me now, to forever slay, this shadowed night!
For my love is eternal, and my soul by "Grace," is everlasting ~
A love that shall not wither by the sunrise, of tomorrows light....
This flower that shall endure, until the ends of time!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~ The Bouquet ~
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