THE RED KNIGHT, EDITOR
404 Not Found

WEBZINE OF THE WEIRD
Issue #1, September 2000

Copyright 2000 sir_red_knight@hotmail.com

THIS ISSUE:  WHAT "THEY" DON'T WANT YOU TO SEE

EDITORIALS
FORUM
HUMOUR
FUNZONE
POETRY
ARCHIVES
RESEARCH

fragments_of_sappho

Welcome to fragments_of_sappho,  the poetry page of 404 Not Found.

The selections this month are all my own, because I haven't received any submissions yet.  So if you want to see someone else's poetry on these pages,
send me some of yours!  You will not be giving up the rights to your work by doing so.  You will only be giving me permission to exhibit it on these pages.

The poems can be in any form, touching on any subject, submitted by anyone of any sex, sexual preference, race, creed, religion or age.

I have my own forum now, on 404 Not Found's
forum page. Join me there if you dare!  Also, I am currently working on my very own webzine, which will soon become accessible from this page.  In addition to poetry, it will contain original  art, fiction, and links to other webpages of interest to both women and men.

THE MOTHER OF MAKING

naked before you

shameless with naked desire
i give full rein to desire the mother of making
borne on the breath of your kiss a petal of fire
like thunder the pounding of hooves and oh i am shaking

there is no life
but first stirs a need that burns to be known
there is no change
but first dawns a thought that longs to be willed
there is no growth
but first springs a seed that yearns to be sown
there is no love
but first yawns a void that aches to be filled

i am naked before you

helpless with hornless desire
i give full rein to desire the mother of making
born into death is this bliss a flower of fire
like thunder the pounding of hooves and oh i am shaking

there is no vision
but first stirs a dream that burns to be shown
there is no word
but first dawns a thought that longs to be willed
there is no flesh
but first wakes a spirit that yearns to be known
there is no love
but first yawns a void that aches to be filled

i am so naked before you

show me_am i not a vision of wonder awaking?
will me_i am the word of your glory partaking
know me_i am made flesh and oh i am quaking
fill me with thunder_
give rein to the mother of making

DROWNING

my soul unbound
i drown in ecstasy
and i tread the primrose path
of destiny

the trumpets sound
profound tranquility
until at last the flames of wrath
cease burning me

i spin around
the ground lets go of me
and so i drift along the path
unhurriedly

no sooner found
than drowned in infancy
but venus rises from the bath
so splendidly

COLDER

colder and colder
we grow as we grow older
with heads made of granite
we bleed this poor planet
with hearts made of stone
we struggle alone
pushing our boulders
till we ache in the shoulders
deaf dumb and blind
we become and less kind
hoarding up treasures
in lieu of past pleasures
twisted with pain
we go slowly insane
until all that is left
is a body bereft
of a mind and a heart
and then we depart
leaving all that we own
one more name on a stone

Copyright 2000 by Jane Archer

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