Sappho, Bard and Legend
Artist Charles Geiyre
Upon my wall, a painting hangs,
Of a woman of great renown.
A poetess when such did not exist.
With a lyre, she made the loveliest sounds.
She spoke words of love
For her husband and child.
She spoke of nature,
Both strong and mild.
A beauty of unearthly quality,
She stands and stares down.
Wrapped in a long black cloth,
With breasts uncovered and unbound.
Long cascading ebony locks,
Flowing in a un-felt wind.
Behind the sea, smooth and calm,
The Isle of Lesbos was her home,
The time six-hundred BC,
A meditative expression on her face,
Her poetic aura captured beautifully.
She is called Sappho,
Though she bore other names,
She sang poetry of haunting beauty,
Though little of it remains.
Enough though, History has retained,
To reach hearts of many lifetimes since,
She was a poet before the written word,
Made poets, not bards, hence
The loss of the beautiful lyre.
A voice, melodic and soft,
Speaking words of beauty and love,
Now, almost completely lost.
Sappho, brave before your time,
A woman in a place of infamy in this day.
Women have walked your footsteps,
Growing more glorious and stronger in every way.
A poet she was,
This beauty on my wall.
A poet I am and sing my words,
So her legend will never fall.