Sappho

I wish our forefathers weren't such puritanicles.

The amount of art and literature lost to the burnings and prohibitions of the past is staggering. One of the most powerful poets in history is the beautiful Sappho (as Socrates called her). Sappho lived on an island with her female puples. These young girls were taught poetry, art and the ways of love so that when they "graduated" they would be ready to be married off. The few pieces of writing left by this ledgend are steamy and heart breaking.

THE MOON
by: Sappho
Stars about the lovely moon
Fade back and vanish very soon,
When, round and full, her silver face
Swims into sight, and lights all space.

Sappho repeatedly had her poor heart broken by these young beauties whom she instructed. You can well imagine how easy it would be to fall in love when coaching a breathtaking beauty in the art of passion. Yes Sappho had quite the tutoring skills. When a girl left her training she left a woman, ready to yield the the desires of her soon to be husband (even if he was decades older). Imagine pouring your heart and soul into some sweet thing just to hand her over to some old man to use as a maid, prostitue and incubator. Sappho's work has been called lewd and not fit for study by those that were in power for the last few millenium. I would like her to have what little work she has left to be shared and enjoyed by all. Sappho has inspired many poets through out the ages and has allowed women who love women to feel understood. Ironicly the small Island Sappho spent her days on was called "Lesbos" I suppose that is the greek word that "lesbian" was derived from. I'm including some of her works in this entry, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I have.

SONG OF THE ROSE
by: Sappho
Zeus chose us a King of the flowers in his mirth,
He would call to the rose, and would royally crown it;
For the rose, ho, the rose! is the grace of the earth,
Is the light of the plants that are growing upon it!
For the rose, ho, the rose! is the eye of the flowers,
Is the blush of the meadows that feel themselves fair,
Is the lightning of beauty that strikes through the bowers
On pale lovers that sit in the glow unaware.
Ho, the rose breathes of love! ho, the rose lifts the cup
To the red lips of Cypris invoked for a guest!
Ho, the rose having curled its sweet leaves for the world
Takes delight in the motion its petals keep up,
As they laugh to the wind as it laughs from the west.

TO ONE WHO LOVED NOT POETRY
by: Sappho
THOU liest dead, and there will be no memory left behind
Of thee or thine in all the earth, for never didst thou bind
The roses of Pierian streams upon thy brow; thy doom
Is now to flit with unknown ghosts in cold and nameless gloom.

AND THEIR FEET MOVE

And their feet move rhythmically, as tender feet of Cretan girls danced once around an altar of love, crushing a circle in the soft smooth flowering grass.

SAPPHO

BEFORE THEY WERE MOTHERS

Before they were mothers Leto and Niobe had been the most devoted of friends.

SAPPHO