An Ode to the Sphinx
2500 years after Oedipus and the Sphinx
was written
I sit in my English class
studying her riddle
as the silverfish crawls
and the fruit flies fly
a teenager, I think
no- twelve years old perhaps
we live in the toughest time
we grow; we are no longer a child
with neon signs lighting the streets
the roar of cars and trucks from city
to town and back
a man playing golf on the moon
we grow
we need to get used to our body
there's new power, new responsibilities
never known before, and we grow
we reek of adolescent growth
and in our premature fear
we fight
we fuel our wars with hatred
hatred from fear
still learning our place
not quite child- not quite adult
and the silverfish crawls
and the fruit flies fly
we fight back
when we are shown love
we cower, hold back
trying to figure out what is right
entering the world with no parent
communism
monarchy
democracy
d ictatorship
nuclear war
bombing the head, the torso, the feet
meanwhile the silverfish crawls
and the fruit flies fly
we discover ourselves in time
and now- 2500 years later
the Sphinx returns with a new riddle
The Sphinx is a girl
The Sphinx is a girl
the test for centuries
failed and failed again
this time aiming for the heart
stabbing, crushing, stomping
the fall of dynasties,
emperors,
kings,
and power
she once again seizes control
the toughest enemy...
the loneliness! that's the riddle!
twisted with fear and hope
failed and failed again
the Sphinx is a girl
lost, wandering and waiting
waiting again
waiting
and the silverfish crawls
poem by Greg Friedrich
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Related quotes
The Words That I Have Not Written
for the words i have not written
i accept i have been a coward
the moment these words become transparent
in my mind, i always tell them gently
i have not the strength to write you
you have become subjects beyond
my power and please understand
the consequences of having to write
all of you: waiting to be printed and read
like the Sphinx and its riddle before
Oedipus, if i were to write all of you
i may be able to save a kingdom in distress
but please understand what happens to me next
for like Oedipus i may be compelled to pluck my eyes out
from my face
and i may roam the earth begging for forgiveness
throughout my life
because i have been blind by fate for all those years
writing you is honesty
and it is this honesty that may at the end kill me
and so
i am very sorry
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Two Riddles. -- 1710
Sphinx was a monster that would eat
Whatever stranger she could get,
Unless his ready wit disclosed
The subtile riddle she proposed.
OEdipus was resolved to go
And try what strength of parts would do;
Says Sphinx, on this depends your fate;
Tell me what animal is that
Which has four feet at morning bright,
Has two at noon, and three at night?
'Tis Man, said he, who, weak by nature,
At first creeps, like his fellow-creature,
Upon all four; as years accrue,
With sturdy steps he walks on two;
In age at length grows weak and sick,
For his third leg adopts the stick.
Now, in your turn, 'tis just, methinks,
You should resolve me, Madam Sphinx,
What greater stranger yet is he
Who has four legs, then two, then three;
Then loses one, then gets two more,
And runs away at last on four?
poem by Matthew Prior
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How Do We Speak In Riddles?
how do we speak in riddles?
are we the modern versions of the sphinx
and where can oedipus stand and destroy
us at the crossroads?
come oedipus, slay us with your
wits
and incestuous destiny.
we are supposed not to look straight in the eye
we degenerate and shrink when we do so
we delineate a bit
not for any dramatics but it is simply the reason
why we are born this way,
writing in crooked lines
and burying some meanings on the sand
for the waves to caress and recover
with great patience and love,
we speak and we do not explain
they will say they will understand
and each shall make a stand that
though different each is right to a certain extent,
this is the life of
mystery a prism of colors contrasting
conceding condescending yet
true, well, maybe different when
filtered, light, shadows, images,
meanings, submeanings,
then extract, abstract, and what you find
ultimately from what is written above is
simply this:
riddle.
these are what we poets mean.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It is to the Riddle of the Sphinx that I have devoted fifty years of professional life as an anthropologist.
quote by Gregory Bateson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where they belonged
When I was in metric
(now grade twelve)
in the agricultural science class
an English girl took a chair
next to me
who had a secret crush
without getting
any attention from me.
I just wasn’t taken with her
and she was a little brash
and they lived
on the other side
of the railway tracks
and she had a reputation
of sleeping around.
When we studied
animal copulation
she acted as if
she didn’t really understand
and asked me some questions
which made me blush
and it was clear
that she had other plans instead.
Ignoring her didn’t help much
and heart broken she went to cry
on her sister’s shoulder
who was my class teacher
and taught me English
at the time.
We did an IQ test
(the first in my years at school)
and I scored only too well
and without really knowing
my personal circumstances
the teacher told the class
that I was lazy,
but much more than that
she marked my English grades down.
I didn’t know what had got into her
and in the second quarter
like a angel from heaven
a female inspector
(specializing in English)
visited the school.
She couldn’t understand
why my marks had slipped so much
and we had a very nice chat
where she demanded
all my English books and tests.
She graded everything again,
my grades took a hike,
the teacher was called in
and almost did the same
and after that
my grades were where
they belonged.
poem by Gert Strydom
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An Unresolved New Year
At the hour of twelve on New Years Eve
When the old year turns into the new
Thoughts turn to what the future holds
And what goals we should pursue.
At the hour of nine on New Years Day
Or some time thereabouts
We wake with great reluctance and
Those resolutions start to doubt.
At the hour of ten on New Years Day
When we start to feel our age
By then we've written lists of things
That will benefit through change.
At the hour of twelve on New Years Day
When things start getting clear
We find we've hid that list away
To return to in one year.
poem by David Keig
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Egyptology
I am the Sphinx.
I am the woman buried in sand
up to her chin.
I am waiting for an archaeologist
to unearth me,
to dig out my neck & my nipples,
bare my claws
& solve my riddle.
No one has solved my riddle
since Oedipus.
I face the pyramids which rise
like angular breasts
from the dry body of Egypt.
My fertile river is flowing down below-
a lovely lower kingdom.
Every woman should have a delta
with such rich silt-
brown as the buttocks
of Nubian queens.
O friend, why have you come to Egypt?
Aton & Yahweh
are still feuding.
Moses is leading his people
& speaking of guilt.
The voice out of the volcano
will not be still.
A religion of death,
a woman buried alive.
For thousands of years
the sand drifted over my head.
My sex was a desert,
my hair more porous than pumice,
& nobody sucked my lips
to make me tell.
The pyramid breasts, though huge,
will never sag.
In the center of each one,
a king lies buried.
In the center of each one,
a darkened chamber. . .
a tunnel,
dead men's bones,
malignant gold.
poem by Erica Jong
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True love never dies
Fiddle the riddle
Wiggle with the riddle
For true love never dies
Except those empty white lies
Love never says goodbye
It just flies
Low and high
Fiddle the riddle
Wiggle with the riddle
Perhaps you can unfold
The puzzle of true love not told
The love I know may sometimes fizzle
Then sparkle with the eye of a twinkle
After wear out like an ageless wrinkle
So I hear your cry and with you I sigh
True love itself never dies
True love never says goodbye
True love never tells a lie
True love never asks the reason why
It just flies and flies and flies and flies
Or it flies past you by
2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Years are magnifying Glass
the years are
magnifying glass
throw the years
talents, throw
the years paintings
poems, written works
a van gogh, an emily,
a leonardo, a cave painting
the most unknown works
the years would come back
with a vision whether the works
are of class, taste and great
to hold onto for posterity
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A major difficulty is that the answer to the Riddle of the Sphinx is partly a product of the answers that we already have given to the riddle in its various forms.
quote by Gregory Bateson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Are You Doing New Years Eve
Maybe its much too early in the game
Ah, but I thought Id ask you just the same
What are you doing new years
New years eve?
Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight
When its exactly twelve oclock that night
Welcoming in the new year
New years eve
Maybe Im crazy to suppose
Id ever be the one you chose
Out of a thousand invitations
Youd receive
Ah, but in case I stand one little chance
Here comes the jackpot question in advance
What are you doing new years
New years eve?
Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight
When its exactly twelve oclock that night
Welcoming in the new year
New years eve
What are you doing new years eve?
song performed by by Lee Ann Womack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is of first-class importance that our answer to the Riddle of the Sphinx should be in step with how we conduct our civilisation, and this should in turn be in step with the actual workings of living systems.
quote by Gregory Bateson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Truth That Kills
the truth that kills
that which Oedipus brings me
i am the Sphinx
and i made the promise
the riddle
he solved it
he laid the truth before me
i am speechless
and i meet my fate
i am shattered
and he gets his due
he married his mother
he killed his father
he is faced with rage
too of his own truth
that blinds him
he removes his own eyes
from his sockets
he is ousted by the rage
of his own kingdom
the truth that kills
what freedom is there
what comfort
what annihilation
what grief eternal
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What Are You Doing New Years Eve?
Maybe its much too early in the game
Aah, but I thought Id ask you just the same
What are you doing new years
New years eve?
Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight
When its exactly twelve oclock that night
Welcoming in the new year
New years eve
Maybe Im crazy to suppose
Id ever be the one you chose
Out of a thousand invitations
You received
Aah, but in case I stand one little chance
Here comes the jackpot question in advance:
What are you doing new years
New years eve?
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Are You Doing New Years Eve?
Maybe its much too early in the game
Aah, but I thought Id ask you just the same
What are you doing new years
New years eve?
Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight
When its exactly twelve oclock that night
Welcoming in the new year
New years eve
Maybe Im crazy to suppose
Id ever be the one you chose
Out of a thousand invitations
You received
Aah, but in case I stand one little chance
Here comes the jackpot question in advance:
What are you doing new years
New years eve?
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Second Chance
Sometimes you never get a second chance
at anything you do.
If one day you do, embrace it
and never let it slip through your fingers
or it will never come to you again.
Now this is my story of the two second chances that I got
and how I embraced them without regret.
The story begins half a century ago when I was a teenager.
I was a very shy boy
and my friends were very few,
especially where the girls were concerned.
No friendships grew there
and all too soon they were gone
without me ever saying a word to them
as I left and set sail for a far distant shore.
Their faces remained with me
through the years in photographs.
The years slipped by so quickly
from teenager to adult hood,
but still those photographs
kept the past alive to me.
Always hoping one day,
I would be able to see them over again.
More years slipped by
and the chances of that happening
became just as remote as could be,
or so I thought.
Then on the 15 December 2006,
I had an internal message on classmates.com
and that is where the first of my two second chances began.
The second came shortly afterwards
when this classmate introduced me to her friend,
whose encouraging words made me take
the second of my second chances
and on the 19th January 2007 I lifted my pen to paper
after six or seven years
and never looked back since then.
Since that date, I have written
one thousand four hundred and twenty eight poems,
a novel and published my first book.
All because of the second chances, I got.
If you are given a second chance
at anything at all,
grasp them with all your might,
never letting them go
because you will probably never get them again.
22-23 November 2008
poem by David Harris
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Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana.
What Are You Doing New Years Eve
Written by frank loesser
Maybe its much too early in the game
Ooh, but I thought Id ask you just the same
What are you doing new years
New years eve?
Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight
When its exactly twelve oclock that night
Welcoming in the new year
New years eve
Maybe Im crazy to suppose
Id ever be the one you chose
Out of the thousand invitations
You received
Ooh, but in case I stand one little chance
Here comes the jackpot question in advance:
What are you doing new years
New years eve?
Maybe Im crazy to suppose
Id ever be the one you chose
Out of the thousand invitations
You received
Ooh, but in case I stand one little chance
Here comes the jackpot question in advance:
What are you doing new years
New years eve?
song performed by by Vonda Shepard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twelve Years
It’s been twelve
Years, I’ve been
Feeding him
My bosom,
Yet his thirst
Remains
Unquenchable,
As my first night
With him.
And I thought,
Twelve years
Is a long time
To get used to,
And get over,
A woman’s bosom.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Fruit flies
Fruit flies made me realize the eyes I gazed into
The genes I wanted to fill made be blind and blond.
So then I sang a goofy song,
Perhaps one so full of the info
That it was the prostate of life that I did get into.
So..are they blue, green or dark brown.
Love those eyes that smiles and naught frowns.
Fruit of our life, a banana in the sun
Gives us a reason to break out those microscopes.
So please heed the class of 69...
Fruit flies ate our bananas
But we knew the the designer jeans they wore.