Song of Sappho by Nightingale

 

"Song of Sappho And so I spoke with a voice I never knew I had,                                                                                    heart tones commanded that my dreams be heard,                                                                               My passion held.                                                                                                                                             For Woman (by She) in the silence, not always (ever) so silent.                                                                                                                                                            For a possibility not to be or to be,                                                                                                                                                                                    but not for (ever). Deep beauty of an Athena (known by Oddysseus),                                                                                                                                           whose song will whisper in the chords of an (other) voice,                                                        huskier with lesser ideals than her last  in(carnation).                                                                             Each flower humming with the new brusque ballet of the cinder moth.                                         Prancing,                                                                                                                                                    dancing,                                                                                                                                                 chancing, without hier(arch)y.                                                                                                                         And dreams will not be confined to a page. Or an untitled book bound by spare blue                  (rib)bon. I will sing aloud - to the                                                                                                                                 ex(tension) of my soul. At last for(got)ten in the light,                                                                              of the one She who will be                                                                                                                           the very es(senSe) of my whole.  Whole being, whole dream, whole truth                                                                                                  entire, a permanent connection,                                                                                                            eternal fire.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Of someday's unending love. Perhaps or never.                                                                                         I keep my heart on the windowsill(still), for the swallows to fly over, with                                                                                                                        darting,                                                                                                                                                           parting,                                                                                                                                                          flitting wings. In the seasoned sky                                                                                                                                                         over                                                                                                                                                                              my ocean of (de)votion to Athena bright eyes.                                                                                        And ever husky voices                                                                                                                                     of my (yes)terday, whose smile I must forget. For my tomorrow,                                                        who some(where) weaves the web of my today. In colours I already know and dream with.                                                                                                                                                                 Even though I have never yet heard                                                                                                             her name. I will recognise when I find her.                                                                                                 In an(other) time and place.    The oracle sings."

Many months ago I read this poem for the first time.This poem is written by one English poetess from Walles.I call Her Nightingale.She is one of the most amazing author I have ever red in my long life.I want to ask Your oppinion about this poem.Maybe,once She will let me publish it among many of Her unique poems.

Be blessed Nightingale!

My friends,thank You for being here.