Sunday, November 30, 2008

Poetess of the Month


Although they are

Although they are
only breath, words
which I command
are immortal

Blame Aphrodite

It's no use
Mother dear, I
can't finish my
You may
blame Aphrodite

soft as she is

she has almost
killed me with
love for that boy

I took my lyre

I took my lyre and said:
Come now, my heavenly
tortoise shell: become
a speaking instrument

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