Preface: I understand that most of you did not subscribe for this, nevertheless I am proud of what I’ve made and wish to share. Do not expect posts like this to clutter your inbox, this is an exception that I hope you will tolerate, and perhaps enjoy :)
Rosy Glass Window
Rosy glass window, kissing with calm, Sweetening daylight the colour of dawn, Beggars beleaguered, eased of their care, Sermon of eyesight, preaching in air, Jigsaw of heaven, quiet sight repose, Piecing together kind collage of hope, God-might and power, in bleat of a lamb! Priestcraft consummate, creed painted prayer; Save us from troubles, still-keep of right, Crown Isles of Abbeys, lake grace of light, Precept perception, bless meek and fair, Beauty abounding, thank God you’re there.
No ought yet is
No ought yet is, for so yet is, not ought again, so is refrain! And let me love my puddle’s dancing mirror in the rain, Nor make me yet dive under to swim in what I see, For looking so I touch myself with warm possibility, That made an is, loses all bliss, becomes what it is, water on skin, And just another bloody little puddle in the rain, From is, ought ought to refrain. Never again, ought is to be, if is to be as ought it might, Keep our hopeful futures past present’s mean despite, With all your might, gods make it right, So form’s ideality... Be just a dream, of nought to be, Platonically, let’s love to dream, But love more than that... More than an image comes your hand.
Ballpoint Wizard
I hold my wand with great aplomb and cast a word or two, And from what I have written down I spell a world for you.
Tasteful Romance
What can wit say when heart doth not comply? What taste be sweet when words agape doth speak, Unwonted merriments atop a tongue that lie, Talking ginger when it tasting reeks, Spoiling even what once was sweet; Chewing memory to bitter bits, When ‘bibed with knowledge of our present wits. But pallet cleansed with loves embrace, Doth sickly, sanguine, foul embrace, Though without a meagre face, The belly, pleasing intent taste, Gestating privy minerals, Of all that love doth mean. Thus stirred the inner liquids thus, Pork comes from sowwy schoolmarm tuts, Beef hinds from quarrel monger ruts, Spice-scrumtious saucy arguments! A dish from all the world’s desert, Though lovéless it smacks of love - Exceeding this my offal comes, Though artless, marinated much, In the thoughts of you, and the touch, Of you bosom bare and eyes and heart. And though it be but tripe and grain, Undercooked or overfeigned, Seasoned with my fresh intent, Served with thoughts benevolent, Preserved with the longevity, Of manifest fidelity, This dish of trust I offer up, Thus ate, this oath of loving must, Be ate again for nourishment, Wherever hunger for me rumbles, The lack of me within you grumbles, And sucking up this shade of me, Your hunger displaced ever be.
//Second Rate Section for the Curious//
Those which are lesser, yet still enjoyable I hope
The Park
Liked, but undesired, Met, but unacknowledged, Hugged, but unembraced, Doubles lack's disgrace. Alone, but in company, Quiet, in the stew, Of nature's choice profferings, Makes friends absent, anew.
A Dancing Child comes to that same Park
Life anew, youth unshed, Morning tide and merriment, Wonder fresh as every hour, Gifts a world of newfound power. Quests are found in daily things, Parkland puddles and garden springs, The very oceans where Poseidon reigns, To you his regal invite brings. Each leaf a map of Elvish worlds, Each rock a Dwarven cave unfurled. Scampered atop the backyard bower, Lo! Entish King of worldwide power! all nooks and crannies - mystery! How oafish adults fail to see; Yet on this each know you and friends, Are so all put to search their ends. Romance wide in sovereign field, Let all of nature to you yield; For childhood laughter makes even birdsong, A poor address without your fun.
The Half Aristotelian
I cannot find that golden grail, that tells me how to live within, Horisons breached spring but new dawns, ever out the each of me, But take my hand and and clasp it round, with the gripping of myself, And back secure an animal - I'll eat I'll drink I'll sleep I'm quelled.
John Donne Knock Off | Grave Death
If ignorance s'evil, I'm bound to be bad, If goodness s'faith, I'm bound to be had, If might 'tis right, I'm bound to be wrong, If dying's the end, I'm bound to belong; O' Grave, minstrel of my defeat, Do you mock me, thinking I'd end otherwise? Or are your tales of me replete, With the wish to tell them, though a dumb device? While I'm alive, I may speak of what, To you is known yet cannot say, Yet once I'm dead you'll say alone, What each passerby knew anyway. O who of us doth play the fool, And dig to death his grave demise? For you lie in wait to say what's true, Till from that grave I do arise; For if it be as the prophets say, and the spargens sonum rolls around, I'll write your wrong, and dig your grave, O death, I'll put you in the ground.
Cheeky girls
Whimsy kept untainted sure, The secret joy of girls demure, Though outward facing severn be, Their heart's the gold of levity.
Thank you
Yet on this earth know you and friends*