Sappho returns to Letchworth 5

In the autumn of 2011, Poetry ID were approached to compose poems to celebrate the return of the statue of Sappho to Letchworth, after an absence of fourteen years. Click Sappho returns to Letchworth to see all the poems posted here. Read and enjoy!

DEAD SOULS

Susie and Stevie
holding hands
love not yet
they are independent travellers

a tribute frieze
embellishes their shower curtain
hot water
milky coffee breasts
beats Manchester any day

the cunning wall
has invented a shadow
puzzled
they lick the sweet sun
off their fingers and toes

the rooms of Sappho
tabulating the air
with the poem of her honey smile
a good little earner

Susie Stevie
brides to be
having a laugh
kissing on the town hall steps
fragments in their hair

Sappho loved the educated soul
not sugar water
or holiday snaps
her lovers remain
secret
and deceased

Gareth Writer-Davies

My Sweet Lord

O sweet Lord of grace
My heart is with thee
I reach to you gladly
For your melody of words
That would sing for the world
Let me be your tears
And your love
Let me be your breath
And your hope
Let me share your blessings
Through your poetic words

Ian Harding

Sappho: An icon goes missing.

Part 1:

Just to think,
After all those years
You’d lain hidden in that
Garden city backwater.
All but forgotten,
You’d passed so far
Under the radar
In suburban camouflage.

The irony, indeed,
That you were outed.
Grassed up
By Team Sappho, of all people.
Your whereabouts,
There, in black and white,
For anyone and everyone
To see.

And seen they were.
Maybe by some South London firm,
Who came over the River,
With acetylene torch
And tipper grab,
Stolen to order,
In the dead of night.

Part 2:

Communiqué No.1:

From The Sapphic Sisters (South London) Scrap Metal Liberation and Re-cycling
Co-operative.

Subject: Disappearance of Sappho statue – It was us what did it.

We, the Sapphic Sisters etc, as above,
Do admit and declare responsibility
For the removal and liberation of the said bronze statue
Of our beloved Sappho,
From some weird town out in the sticks.
Somewhere over the River.

Sorry, Sapphy, hun, for turning you over.
No offence meant.
But business is business.
And what’s a bit of bronze between friends?
It was all done very respectfully and tasteful,
Before we melted it down.
But you don’t need a statue
To be remembered by.
You still live on in us, babe.
Apart from the poncey poetry.

Communiqué ends.

Adam Warwicker

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