Bridegroom, dear to my heart,
Goodly is your beauty, honeysweet. . . .
You have captivated me,
Let me stand tremblingly before you.
Bridegroom, I would be taken by you to the bedchamber.

That is how the oldest love poem in the world begins as inscribed in the above tablets. It is an expression of love from a woman, and given to her betrothed before their wedding, to signal her acceptance of him. The above tablet was discovered over a hundred years ago, buried in the ancient sands of Iraq by British scholars.

The tablet is believed to have been created sometime around 2030 BC by a Sumerian scribe, whose handiwork has served to preserve the bride's passionate declaration for over 40 centuries. This ritualistic practice, scholars say, was part of a Mesopotamian festival of fertility and power called "Sacred Marriage". Every year around the spring equinox, the Sumerian king would "marry", taking as his wife Inanna [the Sumerian goddess of love and war], to renew the land's fertility and affirm his own potency.

For several days preceding this event, the king's people would engage in the Sumerian equivalent of Mardi Gras. At the festival's peak, the king would pursue Inanna's high priestess, who would play the part of Inanna. The priestess, woed by his offerings, would pen a poem to the King as a gift that signaled her acceptance of the king into her bed. The poem featured here, was addressed to the Sumerian king Shu-Sin, and is the oldest love poem known to date. In the extended entry you will find the complete poem, translated by Michael Himick of the Museums of Istanbul, where the tablets are on display.
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Posted by: Michele at 12:49 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 489 words, total size 3 kb.

Your watch stopped five minutes after you did.
A year later I've brought it out its drawer
where your things languish in disrepair,
(eye shadow, cell phone and receipts,
a scarf to hide a head without hair),
placing it on my healthy wrist,
I'm forced to adjust its link, and think,
unlike you, I have time before I leave.
Then I wait, hoping that with each stride I've taken,
with each beating of my pulse and hand that's shaken,
it will receive energy and be brought to life again.

This morning I awoke and saw there was no change,
shaking it in anger once again, I will it on.
Nervous, I sat in a repair shop,
giving anxious glances towards the back.
The attendant, finally returns it and
with an air of disappointment and despair,
confirms your watch is definitely beyond repair.
"Somehow its coils and springs were tossed about,
pushing them all inside-out."
The news of this violence affects me,
tearing at my own mechanism greatly.

I hurry home, dead watch in hand,
saddened by its passing
and sit in wonder, how you,
struggled for 3 years
against time & frame of mind
to wrench some seconds
with great might
hoping in the end
you wouldn't lose your fight.

~ me 2/7/07
On the anniversary of my friend's death to breast cancer

Posted by: Michele at 11:52 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
Post contains 227 words, total size 1 kb.

My battle weary body
collapses... tired.
Sleep escaping...
sad thoughts
circling,
torturing,
punishing,
like a train
aiming for
my brain.
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Posted by: Michele at 04:43 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 142 words, total size 1 kb.