"dominatrix" poems
Hymn to Aphrodite
by Sappho
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Immortal Aphrodite, throned in splendor!
Wile-weaving daughter of Zeus, enchantress, and beguiler!
I implore you, dread mistress, discipline me no longer
with love's anguish!
But come to me once again in kindness,
heeding my prayers as you have done before;
O, come Divine One, descend once again from
heaven's golden dominions!
Your chariot yoked to love's consecrated doves,
their multitudinous pinions aflutter,
you once came gliding from the utmost heights, to
the dark-bosomed earth.
Swiftly they came and vanished, leaving you,
O my Goddess, smiling, your face eternally beautiful,
asking me what unfathomable longing compelled me
to cry out.
Asking me what I sought in my hopeless, bewildered desire.
Asking, "Who has harmed you, why are you so alarmed,
my poor Sappho? Whom should
Persuasion summon here?"
"Though today she flees love, soon she will pursue you;
spurning love's gifts, soon she shall return them;
tomorrow she will woo you,
however unwillingly!"
Come to me now, most Holy Aphrodite!
Release me from my heavy heartache and anguish;
grant me all I request, be once again
my ally and protector!
"Hymn to Aphrodite" is the only poem by Sappho of ****** to survive in its entirety. The poem survived intact because it was quoted in full by Dionysus, a Roman orator, in his "On Literary Composition," published around 30 B.C. A number of Sappho's poems mention or are addressed to Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love. It is believed that Sappho may have belonged to a cult that worshiped Aphrodite with songs and poetry. If so, "Hymn to Aphrodite" may have been composed for performance within the cult. We do know that Sappho was held in very high regard. For instance, when Sappho visited Syracuse the residents were so honored they erected a statue to commemorate the occasion! During Sappho's lifetime, coins of ****** were minted with her image. Furthermore, Sappho was called "the Tenth Muse" and the other nine were goddesses. Keywords/Tags: Sapphic, Sappho, ****** translation, ancient Greek, hymn, Aphrodite, Zeus, daughter, immortal, goddess, holy, lady, heaven, enchantress, enchantment, love potion, charm, spell, persuasion, beguiler, beguilement, mistress, discipline, ********** prayer, prayers, chariot, heaven, descent, ally, protector, lust, desire, passion, longing, *** crush, girlfriend, women, grief
Mar 22, 2020
Mar 22, 2020 at 2:51 AM UTC
all aluminum alloy ammo
bane bat brakes badly basters back bones
come call cthulhu Cristo cuz
dead ********** dominate de download
even elven eternal endowments
fail frivolously flaming for fair fraudulence
grant good goggles give grandiose gratuity
how hella homeboys have how he has
If I ignore I implicate its implore
jack jacks jacks
kay killla kooks krack
LAPD locks la lackeys
maybe mom made mad monoxide
no, no natural nix NOx neutralizes
oh over overt opp only overlay orphic
please protest politely panic pretenses perpetuity
quiet quivers quiet queens
remember rage reaps reciprocity
so sour sits supplanters sat
to tell them to tare trail *** tat?
universal unhappiness underlays under us
victory validates victors vanity
why warble when winners wont waste worry wanting
x-axis x-rays Xerophagy Xanax Xanthorroea
you yodel yonder yet yahweh's yells Yarrish
zero zag zealots zoos
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 4:40 AM UTC
Seduced
by the
school
shooter
singing
siren
songs
of
shotgun
blows
to the heart beat
of the wet American dream.
It's the human interest
horror allegory
The hero doesn't even get
15 minutes
But the shadow has
got a gun fetish
Counting bullets as
They're counting blessings,
numbered 1-27
3x his pump action
Light 'em up
***** 'em out
Some head-sick self-entitled
monster in a mask
on a mission of mass destruction
Cashed in on their
little tax deductions
The most sacred snuffed out
before the light could become them
It's the darkness that dominates
As the dragon **********
Witch inside
The mind
displacing emotions
away from the art of
living
loving
and losing
You're the submissive
Ascend the divine madness
or find yourself in shackles
in the machinery.
Humming
hypnotizing
hymns
of conformity
Another one's lost his mind
Descended
And the scapegoat
is mental illness
We all know,
The media is the medium
is the message
The subliminal secret passage
to the shared skewed subconscious
Planting ideas of bloodshed
Like evidence in the
Bodies of specific demographics
Demonize
Pack the prisons
Capitalize
And cut the blood losses
Here we are now
Hopeless
It makes for great entertainment
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
I don't want
a **********
a *** slave
a *****
I don't need
a housekeeper
a nurse
a cook
I don't want
a supermodel
a CEO
a politician
I don't need
an introvert
an extrovert
a pervert
I just want
someone to hold me
and do my laundry
(from time to time)
Aug 24, 2010
Aug 24, 2010 at 8:16 AM UTC
Hymn to Aphrodite
by Sappho (her only complete poem)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Immortal Aphrodite, throned in splendor!
Wile-weaving daughter of Zeus, enchantress, and beguiler!
I implore you, dread mistress, discipline me no longer
with love's anguish!
But come to me once again in kindness,
heeding my prayers as you have done before;
O, come Divine One, descend once again from heaven's
golden dominions!
Your chariot yoked to love's consecrated doves,
their multitudinous pinions aflutter,
you once came gliding from the utmost heights, to
this dark earth.
Swiftly they came and vanished, leaving you,
O my Goddess, smiling, your face eternally beautiful,
asking me what unfathomable longing compelled me
to cry out.
Asking me what I sought in my hopeless, bewildered desire.
Asking, "Who has harmed you, why are you so alarmed,
my poor Sappho? Whom should Persuasion
summon here?"
"Though today she flees love, soon she will pursue you;
spurning love's gifts, she soon shall return them;
tomorrow she will woo you,
however unwillingly!"
Come to me now, most Holy Aphrodite!
Release me from my heavy heartache and anguish;
grant me all I request, be once again
my ally and protector!
"Hymn to Aphrodite" is the only poem by Sappho of ****** to survive in its entirety. The poem survived intact because it was quoted in full by Dionysus, a Roman orator, in his "On Literary Composition," published around 30 B.C. A number of Sappho's poems mention or are addressed to Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love. It is believed that Sappho may have belonged to a cult that worshiped Aphrodite with songs and poetry. If so, "Hymn to Aphrodite" may have been composed for performance within the cult. We do know that Sappho was held in very high regard. For instance, when Sappho visited Syracuse the residents were so honored they erected a statue to commemorate the occasion! During Sappho's lifetime, coins of ****** were minted with her image. Furthermore, Sappho was called "the Tenth Muse" and the other nine were goddesses. Keywords/Tags: Sapphic, Sappho, ****** translation, ancient Greek, hymn, Aphrodite, Zeus, daughter, immortal, goddess, holy, lady, heaven, enchantress, enchantment, love potion, charm, spell, persuasion, beguiler, beguilement, mistress, discipline, ********** prayer, prayers, chariot, heaven, descent, ally, protector, lust, desire, passion, longing, *** crush, girlfriend, women, grief
Mar 1, 2020
Mar 1, 2020 at 10:53 PM UTC
The honey in the lion sounds like a delicious thing––
a gentle balm capable of subduing
the cruellest of monsters.
According to the stars and tattooed,
you fancied yourself king of the jungle––
lazy in hot African afternoons.
Golden and tawn with sleepy sun-gold eyes,
shaggy mane, muzzle red with
the blood of a gazelle.
Did you think me such easy prey?
Or was I so much fermented honey,
only a sweet intoxicant.
Sun warmth seeps from jungles of cold concrete.
I mistook your gargoyle wings
for those of a guardian angel’s.
I overlooked your rough skin, your
crooked hawk nose and your skinny ribs,
and assigned fine things in you that didn’t exist.
So duped, I acquiesced to your slimy kiss.
Your mouth a neglected cemetery,
teeth a row of mossy tombstones.
Vampire. Incubus. Your seduction like grotesque death.
You named me tempest in a teacup,
but I was the eye of the storm.
Until the night the eye was eradicated,
and the storm blew in,
striking me dumb with your sound and fury.
But no spattered blood and no spreading bruise
to be found in the pattern of the kaleidoscope.
No cause for alarm.
Today I am lost in a picture show,
a beautiful world coloured by nostalgic past.
Women’s lips the vivid red print of a velvet valentine.
Head in the Clouds, I fantasize about a certain scene.
Because you think violence is ****
retaliation – ********** in my dream.
Give me an eye for my eye,
for all the eyes you plucked, from women and breadwinners.
Give me blood running down your back, sweet as honey.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 5:37 PM UTC
She worked in customer service, her hair let down over her shoulders.
She's wearing ***** boots.
She walked around shaking her keys, as she made them all beg for mercy.
One on one,
She whipped him hard, so very hard and made him beg for mercy.
She locked him in a tiny room around about 10 by 10,
She shoved him up against the wall and made him scream in pain.
Tomorrow would be another day, she'll do the same again!
(C) Livvi
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 7:45 AM UTC
Damsel in this dress
is a damsel in distress she just using clothes to cover up the post traumatic stress,
but they barely cover anything--
her lady parts at best,
she attracts hood ****** but they barely give her thanks when she gobble up their ***** in her head is regret,
her past is her future so abuse is where she heads-- wears her heart on her sleeve so she empty in her chest
wearing make up just to make up for the confidence she lacks
and I admit I looked back when you walked by in that sun dress
I knew your name around the block bout how you ****** the meanest ****
the greatest *** and I imagined if I knew the words for access words to claim your assets dinner did I have to invest-- from a glance,
and at a simple glance back,
to advance the fact still remain man plans to slay that,
she knows it; the shades on her face tells poem how bright lies jaded minds and money bust her open so who's the poet--
but we judge off her appearance,
and lose our morals,
when she throw it back aren't we daring; but aren't we caring making compliments and swearing,
smearing make up on our ugly truth
conceal,
conceal,
concealer,
you a bad *****
another body is you willing?
but to her its more than *** its the embrace its not the feeling,
her innocence is safest and awakened when she feels it reminded of the time her boyfriend lied, as he took ***
In these predicaments she says its innocent;
he loves me,
that's after broken rib number 5 she says; he loves me,
that's after **** kit the doctor swab;
he says I'm worthy,
that's after black eye number 9;
he says he trust me,
he trust me,
he trust me,
He trust me,
He Trust me,
He Trust Me,
HE TRUST ME,
and he never means to hurt me.
Problem is my novel is too common,
I'll never share his name cause his name is not the problem,
he don't deserve my shine or fortune to be acknowledged:
Ms. ********** control your hatred, stedfast
my mind is changing-- stop judging demons,
Contrast.
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
Here kitty kitty!
Hot feline **********
Catnip screams her name...
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 3:20 AM UTC
What is a **********
But a woman
Who partakes in joy with another
A person who provides acceptance and pleasure:
Both emotional and physical
Despite being called *****
What is a **********
But a woman
Who nurtures and loves another
A person who provides pain and pleasure
For those in need for a strong hand to the light
Despite being called "crazy *****
What is a pornstar?
But a woman
Who has the courage to bare her body to the world
A person who provides guidance and desire
To those exploring their sexualities
Despite being called ****
What is a *** worker?
But a woman
Who breaks society's taboos
A person who does what she loves
For those who love her for what she does
Despite being called "disgusting"
*****
****
"sloppy"
And so much more
What is a *** worker?
But a woman
Who is beautiful,
strong,
empowered,
and a truly liberated woman.
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 8:54 PM UTC
Green and Brown
********** our
landscape:
We enjoy:
the **********
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 12:56 PM UTC
With wings like barn doors, perched upon the tower and scathing
The king fell, the Earth moved and let him drift slowly to death
Bukowski on the bedpost sang rosy melodies through tin can headphones
and the daffodils of a thousand fields wilted at the news of her death
Needles fall from the junky's arms, a rain drop escapes
Coca-Cola bottles strewn on a green carpet, smooth under foot
and the festival casualties drift aimlessly to their scorching cars
Pills fall from pockets as a forlorn criminal collects coins
The clouds disperse from the estate, reggae disrupts cats making love
Bass that resonates, crumbling cars and the warring between neighbours
Lay with her as the coffin descends, gun crime statistics
Spinoza makes accusations from beyond, ethical misappropriation
Stop talking, for your voice could make an angel weep
but the children still scream, running, frenzied on the lava streets
Cracking bull whips at the backs of a slave, ********** passion, weeping
and the sun sets in the East, proverbial middle finger to the populace
Franzen now teaches me how to live such a lonesome life
While the night holds me like a mother once would
Until I pass,
and the arms of Susanna Blamire beckon
Hold me close
I'm scared
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC
Lost at sea
Alone in my fears
Everyone has gone to bed early but I stay up for days on end
Tortured by day.
Solace is in the silence
That night brings
But it's dangerous or a
Woman to walk alone at night.
Funny how my genitals are an excuse
For everything I try to achieve
Cotton candy bubblegum
Doesn't fill my veins.
I am also not a closeted
**********
Just because my face is pierced
And my hair is bright.
I am not an object.
I am not a thing to be taken.
A thing to poke at with sticks
To see if I bleed sweetness.
No one cares.
No one takes the time to look
At my face without noticing
My chest first.
I bleed the same as you
Sir.
Please don't touch me
Sir.
Stop
Sir.
SIR.
Get off my appearance.
Care for once.
Not about my looks but
The flesh and bone
You are prodding
With sticks.
I only have so much
Blood to show you.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 2:14 PM UTC
in Chicago?
We came dressed for
Florida in January,
drank till the headlights
blurred into long
lines of lightening,
did lines of *******
with a **********
from Ohio, ate
steak and eggs
for breakfast.
You were bright
and hot as streetlights
on Clark Street.
In a compact car
we contorted ourselves
to steam the windows.
Then we went home
and broke up
because our fantasy life
was better
than our real one.
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 9:33 PM UTC
Light-years north of the purple, zephyr dome.
The saccharine amulet is like euphoria
Buried below the wet soil of Utopian plains,
An aura born of visual brilliance like the aurora borealis
Is this the homely orphanage for poetic spirits and souls?
The intuitive life- forms worthy of sempiternal light?
Tyrant Ignoramus's army is multiplying,
And assembling more power,
Lascivious like an extreme **********
Certainty of survival? No, there is not,
Nervous like claustrophobic Nibbana.
Life-forces forced to test
The stability of the precipice.
Can balance be maintained?
Only for so long....
Loping for miles,
Exhausting it must be,
Their hooves must go on and on,
Heedless of stopping.
Past Ignoramus's Fortress,
Past the Alchemist's Bridge over yonder,
Light-years north of the purple, zephyr dome.
The saccharine amulet is like euphoria
Buried below the wet soil of the Utopian plains,
An aura born of visual brilliance like the aurora borealis.
This is the homely orphanage for poetic spirits and souls,
The intuitive life-forms worthy of sempiternal light.
Originally written 7/30/11
Revised 10/17/14
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
I think I’ll drop guitars
Watch them fall and crack
Strangers would pick them up
And pluck a broken tune
Upon their broken necks
And sit with broken bones
Singing broken words
Their minds broken long ago
By ********** politics
Crushing voice and body alike
Breaking bones into conformist shapes.
Their broken dreams
May yet be given
Wings of grace and flight
Their broken eyes
Might just yet see the light
And perhaps,
Perhaps,
There’s still some hope
For these bones
To heal some.
May 26, 2012
May 26, 2012 at 11:41 PM UTC
the days you couldn't get out of bed
were the days he was full of birds
in his stomach; fluttering wings and
sharp beaks pulling for validation.
and the hummingbird in your heart never stops going off
when you've trained it this well, because even a bird
can fall in love with its cage
if it's beautiful enough;
stockholm syndrome in its raw disgust.
impulsivity never came naturally
for him, perfection was
his answer to thoughts smelling
like recycled air and suffocation.
but you,
you would rip all the sheets off
and you could always tell when there was something off
when there was something i've lost,
and never knew that it was you
growing around my bones like moss.
or maybe more like poison ivy
by the way you expected so much from me
and i couldn't stop the both of us
from falling off the rollercoaster you
refused to get off of.
so now that i know,
i won't let you become my demise
because a ********** once told me;
"Anticipation is always stronger
than surprise."
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 3:29 PM UTC
A trinity of three styles one man no religion one morning over a lifetime
Temporary (we tat too)
Temporary love
has no precision definition
so if I say
love you forever,
as I do,
know know
just know
this particular
phrase
is temporary,
unique and forgivable
as temporary
as our permanent tattoo,
the one embellishing you,
the one marking me,
the two hearts tat
that means
we are a
tat two
If you begin a poem,
a love, a tat
with temporary,
usually, but not always,
you have already failed
See http://hellopoetry.com/poem/if-you-begin-a-poem-with-i/
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Invalidation
my living bones, twisted.
my words, slurred,
disfigured with a panache,
that makes the mirror
turn away, ashamed
invalid. in valid.
I have been invalidated,
I spit at your too late heroics,
unwanted.
I spit at myself,
for missing the moment,
when choice was mine
I would have self-destructed, freely,
reborn in an act of self-validation,
be my own living will,
if only I had not been enslaved to my
**********
Fear
invalidation, the Cain mark of every failed man
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bootyoir
three day weekend has commenced.
it's con-occlusion
now in rapid descent
mini-vacation, maxi-sensation.
the only question remaining,
present but debated,
as yet undecided,
whose turn is it
to answer
the doorbell,
when the delivery guy
brings our break~fast
for it is forbidden,
a transgress,
to egress
from the bootyoir,
except for the
call of nature,
and naturally,
I am calling
you,
comeback comeback
hungry time
it's time we
co-authored some
bootyoir poetry
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 7:58 AM UTC
Life can be symbolized in the
impossibility of chugging
champagne from the bottle,
in the half-great, half-horrible scent
of cheap cologne. Life feels like
leaving 3am messages on your
ex’s home phone.
I feel the most alive in warm summer rain,
like when we were lining up jobs, stanzas
and *******
Life is a small **********
with a Napoleon Complex.
Life is that one lover that takes things out
of context.
"I am who I am, *******
Life is the fact that people can’t buy
Daraprim for what what the price is.
Life is ISIS,
who could ****
hundreds of thousands to
appease a God who
cannot hear them. Life
makes you scream with fury
until you’re purring with calm.
Sputtering like an engine,
until life is gone.
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 5:35 AM UTC
The human heart is very fragile indeed.
Yes it is capable of holding and exuding such fiery passions as to consume you whole,
Yet can it not be crushed underfoot with a wayward blow meant to push away rather than injure or the sweet kiss of fare thee well from the object of your eternal desire?
Love is not the monster that hides beneath your bed, rather under your sheets where you wistfully dream of your prince, your knight, the girl next door or the **** **********
Love is the creature that hunts for your immortal soul not by night but rather captures and enraptures you in the brightness of day with a single smile and words that only you amongst the billions in this world were meant to hear.
Love is not the answer, it is the question in the truest sense which poets, songwriters and the daft have spent eternity trying to unravel, it is a puzzle without end for the missing pieces lie within us all and can only be found in another.
And the creator in all his glory housed such a curse as a gift within the most fragile of vessels yet we stand shocked witness each time our hearts break.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 6:12 PM UTC
Bring victory, the winged harbinger of the conquest,
Beg for tyrannical proclamations: the end of man, the end of men,
By now, the greater of the concepts is lost to its own devices, devices,
Belching out smoke, that bend the corpses upon their backs.
By wrenching from their life a sense of purpose,
Byproductively, they feed heroic romanticisms of combat.
Brought yet upon these fields, there lies no stranger enemy
But that of the tide
Being self-effacing, masochistic,
Belittling, She breaks herself upon the shore, ravaging the bodies of
Both, Playing as ********** and as subservient
May 6, 2012
May 6, 2012 at 11:27 PM UTC
Withering, withering, withering down.
A spiral of emptiness and weakness in my own heart.
A sickly form of hate.
A frail figure of shadows and misery and memorie.
O! and what is the field of golden corn compared to the bruise on your throat.
Choked by the ********** of godliness, when she is called life///when she is called death.
Forced to spit out your last drop of blood, through your pharynx///through your eyes.
Sexually with the knife in hand. Like stone to butter, stabbing within the heart of the devil. Like the beast with three ***** who carries the devil in his sinful testicles...you stab stab stab at the flesh of your own chest.
No hair after the fire, no blood after the lust.
The sexuality which assaults YOUR OWN SANITY. It becomes you.
Withering and withering within the HELL of your own spiral.
O! and when are you to become the devil within the sac of the beast?
To be born and reborn again within the light of the sun.
Burning away in a pool of blood that you craved forever.
Burning back together in a pool of ***** that you craved forever.
O! and who are you when you are left naked and alone by your own hand in a pool of hate that you craved forever, I asked myself.
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 10:14 PM UTC
Destination delayed, off course.
Life is a city bus. For some, at least. On schedule, same route,
Never a trip. Strange people sleeping next to you, the creepy man in a
Trench coat that always stands up.
And the smell of ***** from the child sitting alone, a tired look on their face
Before they realize their mother already got off.
They are an orphan now. Wandering between places that they are supposed to think
Of as family.
The attitude kicks in, drugs and suicide,
Soon it will all end. Abducted by demons left as inheritance, her mother was a *****
Time to accept her legacy,
Escape from what she has dealt with and run, a savage salve now,
New York **********
The city bus she started in has crashed,
Off course and alone. She has no path. She writes poetry to keep herself sane.
She isn't really a ***** She releases about them.
Really, she lives on the streets, robbing from book stores and using old chalk from
Abandoned garages to paint her emotions.
Guerrilla artist, known by many, but not known at all.
Shaved her hair off and dressed as a man, cheaper than the designer ****
That is expected of women.
I blame the city bus.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 10:38 AM UTC