Where the Dillies Wend

A Garret Poet

Where the Dillies Wend
Form: Pushkin Sonnet

In pale sunshine as Winter bids farewell
A pretty face appears to spark a smile
Of golden dreams to cast a lighter spell
And thoughts of spring in languid minds compile.
On peaceful mornings, bird song finds its voice
As snow begins to melt as if by choice
It knows it’s time is done as Spring is near
When daffodils in bloom restart the year.
The viridian blades in breezes bend
To dance with gilded maids in vernal days
This Springtime dreams enchanting eyes to gaze.
And hope now follows where the dillies wend
As candles flicker with merriment and mirth
To Mother Nature's triumphant rebirth


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Funeral March of a Marionette by Charles Gounod

Funeral March of a Marionette

Charles Gounod
Born: 17 June 1818, Paris, France
Nationality: French
Died: 18 October 1893, Saint-Cloud, France

Charles Gounod 1818-1893

Gounod was a composer and wrote twelve operas including “Faust” (1859) and “Romeo and Juliet” (1867), both of which remain in the international repertory. Gounod also composed church music, songs, and other shorter pieces. He was a student at the Conservatoire de Paris and won France’s prestigious musical prize, the Prix de Rome. A deeply religious man, Gounod considered the priesthood after his studies


Form: Flash Fiction

Esteban stopped in the reception room outside Felipe’s private rooms. It had been a long time since he, Esteban, and walked through these rooms. The old man felt his nerves twitching. Did he really want to go back to all that again? Whilst Felipe would not have aged much, if at all, as is the way of the wizards, he was now a very old man – would Felipe want him as his gentleman?

“Esteban, yo sé que estás por ahí,” the deep, and slightly dark voice of Felipe echoed through the room. So much for a discreet entrance, Esteban opened the door. Stood in front of the old Gothic fireplace was Felipe, El Mago his very self. “Hola Esteban.” The never forgotten eyes stared at the old man glistening warmly. And Esteban knew he was going to step through the doorway and sit in the chair opposite Felipe.

“El Mago, it is good to see you,” he said as he sat down.

“And you, mi viejo amigo”

“Perhaps too old”

“Tsk, Esteban, age can be dealt with, it all depends”

“On what, El Mago”

“Whether you enjoy being retired and suffering the pain of old age, or tal vez, it is time to have fun again”

“Felipe, I am an old man, what can I do?”

Felipe made a graceful wave of his hand and Esteban suddenly felt years drifting from his body. The sensations tingled within him as he felt time reversing. He should have known Felipe would take of things. His body changed from that of a frail old man until he appeared to be slightly older than Felipe. “It is up to you, mi amigo” said Felipe

Esteban stood up, the weariness of age gone, and he hugged his old friend.

“Welcome home, Esteban, your quarters are ready for you.”

Esteban nodded. “So what’s the plan, El Mago?”

“Tonight we dance. Do you think they will come?”

“Oh, they will come, you are the talk of the village”

“Bueno, so we dance, plans can wait until tomorrow”


Scent of Perfume

Scent of Perfume
Form: Divino Sonetto 1

The scent of Anais Anais on the air
Waiting for a train I look up and stare
My heart expecting something I can’t see
Still I look again for what cannot be
And my senses yearn for a change of view
As I feel a tear pricking on my eye
The moment of hope is lost on a sigh
For over again I am missing you
Always that perfume that whispers your name
Every time it echoes round just the same
A reminder of love rocking my soul
And my wild heart that you made yours to tame
Your gentleness of touch making me whole
Sweet the memories that come to console


Gil-galad by JRR Tolkien


Gil-galad was an Elven-king.
Of him the harpers sadly sing:
The last whose realm was fair and free
Between the mountains and the sea.

His sword was long, his lance was keen.
His shining helm afar was seen.
The countless stars of heaven’s field
Were mirrored in his silver shield.

But long ago he rode away,
And where he dwelleth none can say.
For into darkness fell his star;
In Mordor, where the shadows are

JRR Tolkien 1892-1973

JRR Tolkien
Born: 3 January 1892, Bloemfontein, South Africa
Nationality: English
Died: 2 September 1973, Bournemouth, England

Tolkien was a writer and philologist, best known as the author of “The Hobbit” and “The Lord of the Rings”. He was also the Rawlinson and Bosworth Professor of Anglo-Saxon and a Fellow of Pembroke College at the University of Oxford. He and his close friend CS Lewis founded the informal literary group “The Inklings”. Many authors published works of fantasy before Tolkien, however, the great success of both “The Hobbit” and “The Lord of the Rings” directly led to a resurgence in the genre and Tolkien is often referred to as the father of modern fantasy literature

Penitent (WOTDC)

Inspired by and written for the Word of the Day Challenge – my thanks to Kristian

Definition: Penitent – adj. feeling or showing sorrow and regret for having done wrong; repentant

Form: Cheuh-chu

A word means nothing
Without changing it
Making a wrong right
Even just a bit
So easy to say
But making it fit
Without changing tact
Sorry has no might


Metal March Day 24

Smokin’ In The Boys Room
Mötley Crüe

A bit of glam brightens things up, and for me back in the day using the boys’ room for anything was a daunting thing to do even when dressed – now I am privileged I do it unnoticed so this one from Mötley Crüe is for me as I mark my departure from the GIC

Five A.M. by Allen Ginsberg

Five A.M.

Elan that lifts me above the clouds
into pure space, timeless, yea eternal
Breath transmuted into words
Transmuted back to breath
in one hundred two hundred years
nearly Immortal, Sappho’s 26 centuries
of cadenced breathing — beyond time, clocks, empires, bodies, cars,
chariots, rocket ships skyscrapers, Nation empires
brass walls, polished marble, Inca Artwork
of the mind — but where’s it come from?
Inspiration? The muses drawing breath for you? God?
Nah, don’t believe it, you’ll get entangled in Heaven or Hell —
Guilt power, that makes the heart beat wake all night
flooding mind with space, echoing through future cities, Megalopolis or
Cretan village, Zeus’ birth cave Lassithi Plains — Otsego County
farmhouse, Kansas front porch?
Buddha’s a help, promises ordinary mind no nirvana —
coffee, alcohol, cocaine, mushrooms, marijuana, laughing gas?
Nope, too heavy for this lightness lifts the brain into blue sky
at May dawn when birds start singing on East 12th street —
Where does it come from, where does it go forever?

Allen Ginsberg 1926-1997

Allen Ginsberg
Born: 3 June 1926, New Jersey, USA
Nationality: American
Died: 5 April 1997, New York, USA

Ginsberg was a poet, philosopher, and writer. In the 1940s as a student of Columbia College he began a close friendship with WS Burroughs and Jack Kerouac, forming the core of the Beat Generation. He opposed militarism, economic materialism, and sexual repression. He embodied various aspects of this counterculture with his views on drugs, openness to Eastern religions, and hostility to bureaucracy. Ginsberg is best known for the poem ‘Howl’ which denounces the destructive forces of capitalism and conformity within the United States at the time

Dodoitsu Notes

A Japanese form, the Dodoitsu was developed at the end of the Edo Period. It has no meter nor rhyme constraints, instead, the focus is on syllables. The poem consists of four lines with 7-syllables in lines 1, 2, and 3 and 5-syllables in line 4. The Dodoitsu often utilizes the themes of love or work.


Smile of Enchantment by JezzieG

She walks by with elegance,
and beauty captures my eye
with a smile of enchantment—
I adore geisha

Explosive by BOND

Classical Crossover

Classical Pop
Formed: 2000
Nationality: Australian


BOND is a string quartet formed by music producer Mike Batt and promoter Mel Bush in 2000. The current line-up consists of Tania Davis (first violinist), Eos Counsell (second violin), Elspeth Hanson (viola), and Gay-Yee Westerhoff (cello). Hanson replaced original band member Havlie Ecker 2ho left in 2008 to have a child

Love is Missing

Love is Missing
Form: Free Verse

you see my lack of desire
as a sign love is missing
but you are wrong
I feel love
I just don’t desire sex
I don’t see sexy
I see beautiful
curvaceous or slender
it is the beauty within I see
the sparkle in the eye
joy in laughter
pleasure of souls in union
I see your beauty in the galaxies in your eyes
and stardust in your smile
the eighth wonder of my world
the spectacular sunset on a mountain
and when I say you are beautiful
all that is what I mean
the sensual ambiance of a night out
without the threatening pressure
of what comes after
of feeling used like a breathing toy
of beauty fading as you take pleasure
in my degradation
and love is dead


Metal March Day 23

Hell’s Bells

Lilydog celebrates her 14th (98th in dog years) birthday today. Lots of special treats for my lil lady today – and homemade cheesy doggo biscuits. While I was baking AC/DC were rocking out on my DAB with this classic so it seems fittingly bangin’ in a “Hell’s Bells” kinda way

Hobbit Hole Wittering – So Long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehn…

No, I am not singing songs from the Sound of Music, Today I received the official discharge letter – the good folk of the gender identity clinic is saying goodbye to me or it could be so long. For now, it is goodbye, I have reached the point in my journey that it is time to change trains.

Now I sit on the platform of life wondering where the next train will be taking me. Oh, I hope it’s the Orient Express, I could do with some bourgeoisie laid-back indulgence. I could even make use of my “Lord Peter” monocle. One of those mad must-have-it moments, I went and bought a monocle, what next a pair of pince-nez maybe or anything Art Deco really.

The end of this journey is a muted one as it’s been a long haul and taken over 10 years to reach this endpoint and Jezzie has been part of me for many years more than that. The way I see it I can get on with being the writer without a label. As a fellow blogger says – labels are for cans of soup and I ain’t a can of soup.

Of course, that sets my crazy brain thinking – if I was a can of soup what flavour would it be. If it’s a decision based on my favourite – then it is lentil soup. Does that make me a bloody lentil? More likely I am an Oxo cube melted in a cup of boiling water so didn’t make the can. What would Andy Warhol make of that?

Right on to the Meme of the Week

Not sure whether it’s worth a perfectly delicious cookie going soggy, but indeed there are a few

Spring Sunshine

Spring Sunshine
Form: Spanish Sonnet 1

The years keep passing and time cannot stand still
I wonder how the warmth of your love holds me
Flowing through my body as it always will
Like spring sunshine gently warms the early bee
I think of your kiss; how it made my heart thrill
And how you chose to love me and let me see
You, my spark of life that would my heart fulfil
Your passion and desire were my destiny
And the years go by yet my heart feels the same
The eternal urge to hold you close and near
And tantra of the night breathing out your name
The very same urgent breath that stakes your claim
On my body, heart, soul; oh my precious dear
‘Tis your love took my wild soul and made it tame


Gabbeh by Monir Shahroudy Farmanfarmain

Gabbeh by Monir Shahroudy Farmanfarmain

Mirrors, plaster, and ceramic
Haines Gallery, San Francisco, California, USA

Towards the end of her life, in Iran, Farmanfarmain returned to mirror work whilst continuing to experiment with geometric form and introducing more colour in her work. “Gabbeh” features mirrors in a complex pattern and coloured, iridescent pieces of porcelain made by Abbas Akbari, a Persian ceramist. The piece blends vertical and diagonal lines, circles, triangles, and hexagons. the title “Gabbeh” refers to a centuries-old tradition of rug-weaving practiced by nomadic tribes in Persia,

Monir Shahroudy Farmanfarmaian 1922-2019

Monir Shahroudy Farmanfarmain
Minimalism, Feminist Art
Born: 16 December 1922, Qazvin, Persia
Nationality: Iranian
Died: 20 April 2019, Tehran, Iran

Farmanfarmaian was an artist and collector of traditional folk art. She is one of the most prominent Iranian artists of her time and the first to achieve an artistic practice that unites the Iranian geometric patterns and cur-glass mosaic techniques with the rhythms of Western modern geometric abstraction. In 2017 the Monir Museum in Tehran, Iran was opened in her honour.

Rispetto Notes

An old Italian form, the Rispetto is comprised of two quatrains written in iambic tetrameter or 8-syllable lines. They were originally poems written in respect or admiration of a woman, however, over the centuries it has offered itself for other subjects

Rhyme Scheme: abab ccdd


Moonlit Gypsy by JezzieG

On moonlit nights she dances here,
her gypsy skirts that swirl with dreams,
my rhythmic dancer of heart’s cheer,
entranced by silver starlight beams.

My lute that plays a merry tune,
within our hearts, we sing the moon,
romance the music, lady dance,
the magic love that we entrance

Give It Away by Red Hot Chilli Peppers

Give It Away
Album: Blood Sugar Sex Magik
Date: 1991
Genre: Funk Metal
Artist: Red Hot Chilli Peppers

Red Hot Chilli Peppers are a rock band formed in Los Angeles in 1983. The line-up is vocalist Anthony Kiedis, bassist Flea, drummer Chad Smith, and guitarist John Frusciante. With music incorporating elements of rock, funk, punk, hard rock, psychedelic rock, and hip hop their eclectic range has influenced a variety of genres including funk metal, rap rock, rap metal, and nu metal.

Ronovan Writes SIJO Wednesday Poetry Challenge #54. Use RELIABLE as your inspiration this week.

Sharing this one as I want to say thank you to Willow of the Dot for being my rock in a dark place – much love xxx


©hotpinkwellintons © willowdot21

You can depend on me, always here for you through the nightmares
No need to worry I will be just one step behind you, your safety net
In the darkest hour I will be your light and your guide.


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Metal March Day 22

Ace of Spades

Oh come now, you knew I wouldn’t miss out the legend that is Lemmy and Motörhead. So sadly missed. It’s me writing this, so a bonus track that is just too tempting to resist with Lemmy’s voice just making Enter Sandman creepier than ever- what a badass legend!!!!

Feed My Frankenstein by Alice Cooper

Feed My Frankenstein
Album: Hey Stoopid
Date: 1981
Genre: Hard Rock
Artist: Alice Cooper

Alice Cooper

Alice Cooper, originally a band with roots back to a group called the Earwigs, is a rock singer with career spanning over five decades. His shows feature numerous props and stage illusions such as pyrotechnics, guillotines, fake blood, electric chairs, reptiles, swords. He is considered the godfather of rock and he has drawn inspiration from horror films, vaudeville, and garage rock. Alice Cooper is a pioneer of macabre and theatrical rock designed to shock his audience

Female Figure Lying on Her Back by Dora Carrington

Female Figure Lying on Her Back by Dora Carrington

Female Figure Lying on Her Back
Life Art
Oil on Canvas
University College London Art Museum

“Female Figure Lying on Her Back” was painted during Carrington’s time as a student at the Slade School of Art in London. She entered it into a university contest and won second prize and a two-year scholarship to continue her education. Slade was the first school in the UK to permit female students to use nude models for their paintings, albeit with restrictions such as male and female students sketching the models in separate rooms, and male models for female students were, for the sake of modesty, partially covered.

Dora Carrington 1893-1932

Dora Carrington
The Bloomsbury Group Artists, Proto-Feminist Artists
Born: 29 March 1893, Hereford, England
Nationality: British
Died: 11 March 1932, Newbury, England

Carrington was a painter and decorative artist, associated with members of the Bloomsbury Group, especially the writer Lytton Strachey. She was known simply by her surname as she considered “Dora” to be vulgar and sentimental

Sicilian Sonnet Notes

Structure: Octet and sestet
Meter: Tetrameter or octosyllabic lines
Rhyme Scheme: abababab cdcdcd


Old Cassette by JezzieG

The first step into a new world
And time became a memory
As the beauty of love unfurled
Like words written in poetry
Into your dream my senses whirled
Thus enchanted by mystery
And in each new day becomes curled
In our magical history

Cherry blossom scent at sunset
While we sit by the fires of dusk
Watching you smoke a cigarette
White wine captured the moonlit musk
And sweet sounds from an old cassette
No more shall the night’s chill seem brusque

I Knew Him

I Knew Him
Form: Epistle Sonnet 9

I can’t recall the first time I saw him
His grey eyes staring from behind the glass
A trick of the eye or was the light dim
Just a boy with no name but I knew him
Over the years I felt his pain in me
For all the boyish things he should have been
For all those things I know I should have asked
And I began to promise one day, one day
The one day would come and I’d set him free
Accept the things inside that no one’s seen
For I knew from the start that he was me
Hidden behind the mask of girly sheen
That day when the mirror gave him away
He became a man and is here to stay


Habanera by Georges Bizet


Georges Bizet
Born: 25 October 1838, Paris, France
Nationality: French
Died: 3 June 1875, Bougival, France

Georges Bizet 1858-1875

Bizet was a composer of the Romantic era, best known for his operas. He achieved little success before his final work “Carmen” which has become one of the most popular and frequently performed works in the operatic repertoire. Bizet died of a heart attack 3 months after its premiere, unaware that it would prove a spectacular success

Memorial (RDP)

Inspired by and written for Ragtag Daily Prompt – my thanks to Drkottaway

Definition: Memorial – n. a statue or structure established to remind people of a person or event

Well, I don’t like that definition but will go with it

Form: Minute Poetry

A statue cast
the past
in stone
But you’re not there
you’re here
with me
you see
For love don’t die
And I
Feel you
It’s true


Labels (Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge)

Inspired by and written for Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – thank you, Sue and GC

Form: Redondilla 3

Pictures shown are not real gameplay
The heart sinks in utter dismay
As blurred pixels scroll on the screen
That’s how it's done and I have been
Expecting more from CGI
No moneyback and you know why
Like terms and conditions not read
I let small print pass through my head
Contents may differ from that shown
Complain and you’re left on your own
You were warned before you paid out
They leave you to just scream and shout
Reading labels, what’s in the box
Pretty pictures a cunning fox
But if you look, make your eyes squint
The truth revealed in the small print


Family Resemblance

Family Resemblance
Form: Free Verse

Sorting through
boxes of long forgotten letters,
and sepia photos, a flapper girl
with her cards offering to dance
a beautiful girl I never knew
yet it stopped me in my tracks
with a chill in my spine
her delicate features so youthful
I thought I remembered them
a slender figure dressed in lace
but I don’t remember that
her black bob framing her eyes
and I bet those eyes are grey
a boyish grin
yes, I recognise that
but were her lips a glossy red?
Eileen, 1926
my Nana
a beautiful girl
but I thought I saw my dad
and I thought I saw me


Elisabeth of Valois by Sofonisba Anguissola

Elisabeth of Valois by Sofonisba Anguissola

Elisabeth of Valois
Oil on canvas
Museo Nacional del Prado, Spain

“Elisabeth of Valois” is a large-scale painting in which Anguissola captured the image of the newly married Queen of Spain, dressed in swaths of expensive black cloth and bejeweled with pearls and rubies from neck to hem. A wealthy Renaissance queen the numerous pearls symbolize wealth and fertility, the latter rather unfortunate as it was her fourth pregnancy and second miscarriage that ended the queen’s short life.

Sofonisba Anguissola
Mannerism, Baroque
Born: 1532, Cremona, Italy
Nationality: Italian
Died: 16 November 1625, Palermo, Sicily, Italy

Sofonisba Anguissola 1532-1625

Anguissola was a Renaissance painter, born to a poor but noble family. She received a well-rounded education including the fine arts and her apprenticeship with local painters of the time set a precedent for women to be accepted as students of art

Giselle by Adolphe Adam


Adolphe Adam
Opera, Ballet
Born: 24 July 1803, Paris, France
Nationality: French
Died: 3 May 1856, Paris, France

Adolphe Adam 1803-1856

Adam was a composer, teacher, and music critic. He was a prolific composer for the theatre and is best known for his ballets “Giselle” (1841) and “La Corsaire” (1856), and his operas “Le Postillon de Lonjumeau” (1836) and “Si J’etais Roi” (1852).

Endless Circle by Wolfcry

Endless Circle
Album: Nightbreed
Date: 2005
Genre: Metal
Artist: Wolfcry


Wolfcry is a Hellenic metal band formed in Athens’ Greece in 1992. The band’s current line-up is Nikos Hortis (bass), Elias Koskoris (guitar), Gus Dibellas (keyboards), Andreas “the Wizard” Kourtidis (drums),and Costas Hatzigeorgiou (Vocals)

Stomach (WOTDC)

Inspired by and written for the Word of the Day Challenge – my thanks to Cyranny

Definition: Stomach – n. the internal organ in which the major part of the digestion of food occurs, being (in humans and many mammals) a pear-shaped enlargement of the alimentary canal linking the esophagus to the small intestine

Form: Interlocking Pathya Vat

that virus hit
in fevered state
food on the plate
appetite wains
water stays down
with tummy pains
the virus gains
momentum fast
sleeping it out
the present past
this will not last
hungry again


The Final Frontier (Weekend Writing Prompt)

Inspired by and written for Weekend Writing Prompt – Thank you, Sammi

Form: Free Verse

a starship to behold
for making bold voyages
where no one had been before
strange planets and places
beaming down to the surface
will danger be waiting
never mind
that guy in red will be dead soon
and the rest will be safe
for another adventure next week
over time the captains change
and we all have a favourite
be it A, B, C, or bloody D
Picard is still best

Word Count: 73


the death of ignorance (ecstatic symmetry)

unbolt me

dancing in the ruins of the dead divines
i smelled the earth after the first rain
no more crackle of grass in a lake like glass
near ashimmer with new possibilities

and i lumbered through pain
to free me from the chains

stomping on a skull in its ruined crown
i heard the sound of its gnashing teeth
a lesser antilles of emptied homilies
near ashameless with inert fragilities

and i forged through pain
to free me from the chains

flaming through the deep of waters parted
i roared the defiance of an open tomb
saved two of each kind of all souls to find
near asundered with reassembled symmetries

and i frolicked through pain
to free me from the chains

© All rights reserved 2023

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Basket of Dreams

A Garret Poet

Basket of Dreams
Form: Blank Verse

As sips of tea now ponder in a dream,
A square of white the canvas that awaits
The silk to weave; the needle point is sharp
But gently pierces marking art's design,
The sewing dreams my basket holds for me
Long stitch, short stitch are drawn with ease,
A patch of grass, vibrant with shades of green.
A river divides with glistening floss
And water ripples silent ebb and flow.
The figure-paddling child at wistful play
Blue shorts, no socks, blue eyes, and golden locks
And umber sticks become his racing boats
While grandpa fishes wearing darker shades.
Another sip of tea and life returns


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Door by Richard Artschwager

Door by Richard Artschwager

Acrylic on Wood, Glass, 2 parts, installation view at Mart Rovereto
Guggenheim, Bilbao, Spain

“Door” is a surreal installation creating a playful balance between illusionism and artifice. A replica door is installed in the space suggesting possibilities of escape but the texture of the wood grain is a tad too exaggerated to be real and a cheap plastic handle adds to the artificial quality. The flat motif-like quality of the door is heightened even further with the placing of an enlarged closed bracket next to it.

Richard Artschwager 1923-2013

Richard Artschwager
Pop Art, Conceptual Art, Minimalism, Installation Art
Born: 26 December 1923, Washington, DC, USA
Nationality: American
Died: 9 February 2013, New York, USA

Artschwager was a painter, illustrator, and sculptor, often associated with Pop Art, Conceptual, Art, and Minimalism. Along with his wife, Ann, he lived and worked in New York City

Dedication by Stephen Vincent Benet


To W. R. B.

And so, to you, who always were
Perseus, D’Artagnan, Lancelot
To me, I give these weedy rhymes
In memory of earlier times.
Now all those careless days are not.
Of all my heroes, you endure.

Words are such silly things! too rough,
Too smooth, they boil up or congeal,
And neither of us likes emotion —
But I can’t measure my devotion!
And you know how I really feel —
And we’re together. There, enough

Stephen Vincent Benet 1898-1943

Stephen Vincent Benet
Born: 22 July 1898, Pennsylvania, USA
Nationality: American
Died: 13 March 1943, New York, USA

Benet was a poet, short story writer, and novelist best known for his book-length poem of the American Civil War, “John Brown’s Body” (1928) for which he received the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry

Fuego by BOND

Classical Pop

Classical Pop
Formed: 2000
Nationality: Australian


BOND is a string quartet formed by music producer Mike Batt and promoter Mel Bush in 2000. The current line-up consists of Tania Davis (first violinist), Eos Counsell (second violin), Elspeth Hanson (viola), and Gay-Yee Westerhoff (cello). Hanson replaced original band member Havlie Ecker who left in 2008 to have a child

Elegy IV: The Perfume by John Donne

Elegy IV: The Perfume

Once, and but once found in thy company,
All thy supposed escapes are laid on me;
And as a thief at bar is questioned there
By all the men that have been robed that year,
So am I (by this traiterous means surprized)
By thy hydroptic father catechized.
Though he had wont to search with glazed eyes,
As though he came to kill a cockatrice,
Though he hath oft sworn that he would remove
Thy beauty’s beauty, and food of our love,
Hope of his goods, if I with thee were seen,
Yet close and secret, as our souls, we’ve been.
Though thy immortal mother, which doth lie
Still-buried in her bed, yet wiil not die,
Takes this advantage to sleep out daylight,
And watch thy entries and returns all night,
And, when she takes thy hand, and would seem kind,
Doth search what rings and armlets she can find,
And kissing, notes the colour of thy face,
And fearing lest thou’rt swol’n, doth thee embrace;
To try if thou long, doth name strange meats,
And notes thy paleness, blushing, sighs, and sweats;
And politicly will to thee confess
The sins of her own youth’s rank lustiness;
Yet love these sorceries did remove, and move
Thee to gull thine own mother for my love.
Thy little brethren, which like faery sprites
Oft skipped into our chamber, those sweet nights,
And kissed, and ingled on thy father’s knee,
Were bribed next day to tell what they did see:
The grim eight-foot-high iron-bound servingman,
That oft names God in oaths, and only then,
He that to bar the first gate doth as wide
As the great Rhodian Colossus stride,
Which, if in hell no other pains there were,
Makes me fear hell, because he must be there:
Though by thy father he were hired to this,
Could never witness any touch or kiss.
But Oh, too common ill, I brought with me
That which betrayed me to my enemy:
A loud perfume, which at my entrance cried
Even at thy father’s nose, so were we spied;
When, like a tyran King, that in his bed
Smelt gunpowder, the pale wretch shivered.
Had it been some bad smell he would have thought
That his own feet, or breath, that smell had wrought.
But as we in our isle imprisoned,
Where cattle only, and diverse dogs are bred,
The precious Unicorns strange monsters call,
So thought he good, strange, that had none at all.
I taught my silks their whistling to forbear,
Even my oppressed shoes dumb and speechless were,
Only, thou bitter sweet, whom I had laid
Next me, me traiterously hast betrayed,
And unsuspected hast invisibly
At once fled unto him, and stayed with me.
Base excrement of earth, which dost confound
Sense from distinguishing the sick from sound;
By thee the seely amorous sucks his death
By drawing in a leprous harlot’s breath;
By thee the greatest stain to man’s estate
Falls on us, to be called effeminate;
Though you be much loved in the Prince’s hall,
There, things that seem, exceed substantial.
Gods, when ye fumed on altars, were pleased well,
Because you were burnt, not that they liked your smell;
You’re loathsome all, being taken simply alone,
Shall we love ill things joined, and hate each one?
If you were good, your good doth soon decay;
And you are rare, that takes the good away.
All my perfumes I give most willingly
T’ embalm thy father’s corse; What? will he die?

John Donne 1572-1631

John Donne
Born: 22 January 1572, London, UK
Nationality: English
Died: 31 March 1631, London, UK

Donne was a poet, scholar, soldier, and secretary. Born to a recusant family, he later became a cleric in the Church of England. He was made Dean of St Paul’s Cathedral, London under royal patronage. Donne is considered a preeminent metaphysical poet with poetry renowned for their metaphysical and sensual style, including sonnets, religious poems, love poems, elegies, and satires. Donne is also renowned for his sermons


Form: Raven’s Rovi Sonnet 60

My soul is driftwood floating on the sea
As the sun sets upon my empty heart
While my thoughts dream upon what used to be
I feel the saltwater lapping around
It tickles my senses from head to toe
In the twilight hues can I find the ground
On those distant shores that we used to know
Saltwater like your love I feel surround
My body with warmth yet we are apart
I hunger for the night you bring me home
For in this world, I have nothing to show
For love was always about you and me
No matter what I do or where I roam
I wish for night when you come take me home


The Divine Game (#Writephoto)

Inspired by and written for #Writephoto – thank you, KL

Form: Redondilla

Sixty-four squares of black and white
Thirty-two ready to make war
Each piece has its own unique might
Players’ strategy at the fore
Marching ahead, sorrowful pawn
Each forward step carrying their dread
Yet they are the backbone of brawn
Showing the game the way ahead
While rooks stand tall, guarding the keep
Moving back and forth, side to side
In straight lines they never weep
Their power supporting the ride
The knights on horseback leap around
In surprising ways they tempt fate
On a path that is never found
Winning chances for those who wait
Elegant grace the bishops move
Taking space on diagonal spines
The stealth of religion to prove
Deep behind the enemy lines
The angry queen moves in a rage
In fury hers a deadly path
She cannot be held in a cage
Beware, player, of the queen’s wrath
As for the king, he sits alone
His steps cautious, his life to save
He is the power of the throne
Will he be the one in a grave