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"sardis" poems
Sleep, darling I have a small daughter called Cleis, who is like a golden flower I wouldn't take all Croesus' kingdom with love thrown in, for her --- Don't ask me what to wear I have no embroidered headband from Sardis to give you, Cleis, such as I wore and my mother always said that in her day a purple ribbon looped in the hair was thought to be high style indeed but we were dark: a girl whose hair is yellower than torchlight should wear no headdress but fresh flowers
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Cleis
Yes, Atthis, you may be sure Even in Sardis Anactoria will think often of us of the life we shared here, when you seemed the Goddess incarnate to her and your singing pleased her best Now among Lydian women she in her turn stands first as the red- fingered moon rising at sunset takes precedence over stars around her; her light spreads equally on the salt sea and fields thick with bloom Delicious dew pours down to freshen roses, delicate thyme and blossoming sweet clover; she wanders aimlessly, thinking of gentle Atthis, her heart hanging heavy with longing in her little breast She shouts aloud, Come! we know it; thousand-eared night repeats that cry across the sea shining between us
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Anactoria
(Revelations, iii. 1-6) "Write to Sardis," saith the Lord, "And write what He declares, He whose Spirit, and whose word, Upholds the seven stars: All thy works and ways I search, Find thy zeal and love decay'd; Thou art call'd a living church, But thou art cold and dead. "Watch, remember, seek, and strive, Exert thy former pains; Let thy timely care revive, And strengthen what remains; Cleanse thine heart, thy works amend, Former times to mind recall, Lest my sudden stroke descend, And smite thee once for all. "Yet I number now in thee A few that are upright; These my Father's face shall see, And walk with me in white. When in judgment I appear, They for mine shall be confess'd; Let my faithful servants hear, -- And woe be to the rest!"
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Sardis
i. To the angel of the church in Ephesus, Write this: The one who holds the seven stars In her right hand and Walks in the midst of the seven gold lampstands Says this: Wickedness drips from the fangs Of faeries. A mystical hurt wounds Its way around your spine. Revel in the snapping of vertabrae. Suffer for my name. Repent for me, my lover. ii. To the angel of the church in Smyrna, Write this: The first and the last, Who once died but came to life, Says this: You are rich in tribulation. Bathe in the slander Of those who came before you. For ten days we will be faithful. iii. To the angel of the church in Pergamum, Write this: The one with the sharp two-edged sword Says this: The throne is yours. Hold fast to my name. Let the gold consume. You martyred me amongst the rest. Eat the feast sacrificed to the idols And I will play the ****** We will wage war with The sword of my mouth. iv. To the angel of the church in Thyatira, Write this: The daughter of a goddess, Whose eyes are like a fiery flame And whose feet are like polished brass, Says this: I am Jezebel. Condemned for harlotry, The ***** and I will crawl on ****** knees, Broken by mens will, To the city on seven hills. It is fire we want v. To the angel of the church in Sardis, Write this: The one who has seven spirits Of god and Seven stars Says this: We will wear white. We will walk with our heads held high. We are worthy of the divine. vi. To the angel of the church in Philadelphia, Write this: The holy one, The true, Who holds the key of David, Who opens and no one shall close, Who closes and no one shall open, Says this: They will realize I love you With a bleeding heart. The altar will drip red and I will keep you safe During the trial. vii. To the angel of the church in Laodicea, Write this: The amen, The faithful and true witness, The source of creation, Says this: You are neither. Neither loved nor hated, But certainly not loved. Not loved with the inferno of my heart. I am rich in wretchedness And you do not realize You are naked and blind Like the lamb with seven horns, Seven eyes. Who ever has ears ought to hear. The victor will never Taste death from my lips.
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Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 8:24 PM UTC
Revelations
i. To the angel of the church in Ephesus, Write this: The one who holds the seven stars In her right hand and Walks in the midst of the seven gold lampstands Says this: Wickedness drips from the fangs Of faeries. A mystical hurt wounds Its way around your spine. Revel in the snapping of vertabrae. Suffer for my name. Repent for me, my lover. ii. To the angel of the church in Smyrna, Write this: The first and the last, Who once died but came to life, Says this: You are rich in tribulation. Bathe in the slander Of those who came before you. For ten days we will be faithful. iii. To the angel of the church in Pergamum, Write this: The one with the sharp two-edged sword Says this: The throne is yours. Hold fast to my name. Let the gold consume. You martyred me amongst the rest. Eat the feast sacrificed to the idols And I will play the ****** We will wage war with The sword of my mouth. iv. To the angel of the church in Thyatira, Write this: The daughter of a goddess, Whose eyes are like a fiery flame And whose feet are like polished brass, Says this: I am Jezebel. Condemned for harlotry, The ***** and I will crawl on ****** knees, Broken by mens will, To the city on seven hills. It is fire we want v. To the angel of the church in Sardis, Write this: The one who has seven spirits Of god and Seven stars Says this: We will wear white. We will walk with our heads held high. We are worthy of the divine. vi. To the angel of the church in Philadelphia, Write this: The holy one, The true, Who holds the key of David, Who opens and no one shall close, Who closes and no one shall open, Says this: They will realize I love you With a bleeding heart. The altar will drip red and I will keep you safe During the trial. vii. To the angel of the church in Laodicea, Write this: The amen, The faithful and true witness, The source of creation, Says this: You are neither. Neither loved nor hated, But certainly not loved. Not loved with the inferno of my heart. I am rich in wretchedness And you do not realize You are naked and blind Like the lamb with seven horns, Seven eyes. Who ever has ears ought to hear. The victor will never Taste death from my lips.
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