Written for:  Wild Friday at Poets United  (posted by Sanaa)

“In a world dominated by men, it was rare to see a woman in ancient times to wield such power in writing. Sappho’s songs were regarded as outstanding, so revered was she that the people of those times referred to her as the “Tenth Muse,” and her songs were passed down over centuries inspiring generations of Poets, none of whom managed to replicate her command of metre and sensual artistry.”

“So, where did Sappho come from? Her estimated birth date places her sometime after the composition and transmission of the works of the Homeric Poets, which told stories of the Trojan War and are preserved in the epics known as the ‘Iliad,’ and the ‘Odyssey.'”


In my eyes he matches the gods

In my eyes he matches the gods, that man who
sits there facing you–any man whatever–
listening from close by to the sweetness of your
voice as you talk, the

sweetness of your laughter: yes, that–I swear it–
sets the heart to shaking inside my breast, since
once I look at you for a moment, I can’t
speak any longer,

but my tongue breaks down, and then all at once a
subtle fire races inside my skin, my
eyes can’t see a thing and a whirring whistle
thrums at my hearing,

cold sweat covers me and a trembling takes
a hold of me all over: I’m greener than the
grass is and appear to myself to be little
short of dying.

But all must be endured, since even a poor [
“When I first came across and read this poem I was blown away by the intensity of the emotions that adorned each and every word, placed carefully and with such precision so as to capture the reader’s attention.

Sappho’s poem puts me in the mind of love, eros and jealousy. The poem as we have it is apparently incomplete as there is the beginning of an additional line at the end (“But all must be endured… “) Most translators have ignored this fragment and concluded with the previous line, but a few modern ones include it.”

“Which brings me to question: what could have been the conclusion? What more could have been said? The fact that the poem is incomplete leaves much to be contemplated and adds a certain level of mystery. I remember reading and re-reading this poem and each time marveling at the possibility of there having been at least one more stanza in completing it.”

So, for our first Wild Friday at Poets United, I invite you to write poetry and offer the following two options:

1) Find a poem which is also incomplete and write a response poem that works like an ending for your choice.

2) Or if you don’t feel like finding a different poem then use Sappho’s.


My ending for Sappho’s poem:

But all must be endured
since even a poor feeling
of certain death tells you,
you are alive.


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On The Brink

Written for:  Sunday Muse #73

stolen from lydia

She stands
on the brink
of womanhood.
One part white
ruffles, and cute
teddy bears-
the other a sexual
awakening-a desire
to be provocative,
see what the next
step will be.


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Plant a Seed

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 – For Your Consideration:  Old Wives Tales

A child, warned, swallowed watermelon seeds
He liked to chew on them, took no heed
If you eat the black pits,
and swallow `fore you spit
seeds will grow big. They did–into a forest of trees.



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Written for:  Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads –  Just One Word:  Groovy
(posted by Marian)

You felt it-the Groove.
If you were in it
you were groovy. Music,
hair, color, clothes,
speech, and accessories.
Not groovy? Ah man,
then everyone said
you give off bad vibes.
No one wanted to hang
with bad-vibed people.
What a downer, man. Here,
have a hit of this.


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Santiago de Compostela

Written for:  Carpe Diem #1741 Santiago de Compostela
“Santiago de Compostela is the capital of northwest Spain’s Galicia region. It’s known as the culmination of the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route, and the alleged burial site of the Biblical apostle St. James. His remains reputedly lie within the Cathedral de Santiago de Compostela, consecrated in 1211, whose elaborately carved stone facades open onto grand plazas within the medieval walls of the old town.”

a whispered prayer –
pilgrims on their way to Santiago
walking the Path of God
reaching out to their deepest thoughts
seeking the Light

seeking the Light
while chanting psalms or mantras
pilgrims on their way
enjoying Mother Earth’s beauty –
a whispered prayer

© Chèvrefeuille (our host)

Here is my attempt:

seeking burial site
of apostle St. James
follow famous route
meeting pilgrims on the road
each with their own thoughts and prayers


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“cricket silence”

Written for:  Carpe Diem Weekend Meditation #101
Photoshopping Haiku.  Create the best version of Jane’s haiku:

cricket silence
between scraping sounds
autumn begins

Here is my attempt:

silence of crickets
no scraping sounds heard until
Autumn begins


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Indigo Glow

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub – Meeting The Bar:  Critique and Craft
“Descriptive Detail” – (Posted by Frank H.)

“The topic today is descriptive detail. This is the part that tells the reader what the poem is about. It is how the reader will remember the poem and describe it to others.

Presenting this detail doesn’t mean there isn’t more going on in the poem. It is just the entry door to a room full of metaphor for what the poem really means which the poet doesn’t want to say explicitly and perhaps can’t say explicitly.

To participate in this prompt write a poem paying attention to the descriptive detail that will tell readers what the poem is about and what you hope will hold their interest and make them want to read it again.”

How the poet handles this description may motivate the reader to remember the poem and read it again.”

Indigo glowed
when darkness
ruled the sky.
No one knew
what it was.
At dawn’s blush,
the strange stone
looked like a
nondescript pale
blue rock. Gleamed
only at night.

Squabbles arose
amongst the kids.
Julio said, “I should
keep it; I found it.”
Marge said, “We were
all there at the beach
when you spotted it.
We should each have
a turn.” They could
not agree on the true

Met at the beach
when twilight purple
turned to ink. Gathered
’round the gem whose
indigo glow was brighter
than all the stars.
Solemn silence on cool
sand. Only the hypnotic
white waves spoke. Soon,
zephyrs blew over
the sand. Air became
electric. Lightning
zig-zagged, rolling
thunder boomed. The kids
scrambled to get up
and go home. When they
looked down on shifting
sands, the jewel was gone.
“I hope whoever finds
it next, shares it,”
said Julio. “Everyone
should have a turn. We
did not protect it.”
Disappointed, the kids
headed home.  Somewhere
indigo glowed.


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Pilgrimage Route Through Germany

Written for:  Carpe Diem #1740 Munchner Jakobsweg
“This month we are traveling around the world searching for pilgrimage-routes as an act of devotion. We have seen already a few beauties and today I hope to inspire you through a not so well known short pilgrims-route in Germany. Today we will take our walk on the so called “Munchner Jakobsweg”.

“One of the most famous (and beautiful) routes travels through South Germany, through Swabia in Bavaria, ending at Lake Constance at the Swiss border (then continuing on through Austria, Swiss, and France).

Along this portion of the Way of St. James, you’ll find abbeys, monasteries, churches, castles, festivals, gorgeous natural countryside, other scenic routes, and the friendliest people. Jakobus, as he’s also called in German, would have been proud to travel along such a route; and you’re going to love it.”


Direction Sign somewhere along Munchner Jakobsweg

again on my way
walking to Santiago
to find myself

© Chèvrefeuille (our host)

Here is my attempt:

verdant countryside
speaking with friendly people
St. James Way


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A Cold Night Of Stars

Written for:  Poets United Midweek Motif~ Looking at Stars  (posted by Sumana)
“Are you a star gazer? If not better be one and gift us a few lines about your experience.”

“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”— Oscar Wilde

Night of Stars

See your breath
on a Winter’s night.
Turn your eyes
Silver sequins dot the sky;
shapes appear so close.


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Witness, Survivor

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 – Remembering September 11, 2001
“Post a remembrance poem for 9-11. Whether it’s an old poem you had written then, or a new tribute written for this prompt, post it or as many as you’d wish. Never forget.”

When September 11th is mentioned,
whether in conversation or in
a segment of news, I see them.
Those buildings. Flames shoot
out at impact of plane crash.
My building first. Watch it
vanish, crumble into dusty
debris. Every man and woman
on this bus watches in horror,
mouths agape. Second building
falls, people jump from windows.
Sand stark as a desert floor. Only
the beginning of nightmares
to come. I wish I could forget;
I know I never will.

(original date 2018)



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