The advice for young women, here in a poem, should not have changed. Let you be beautiful. Let you be as innocent as a dove. But be guarded. Or wily as a snake. For there are snakes on two legs, and you can marry well once. So nail that landing. To the Young Gentlewomen BEWARE, … Continue reading The ancient pink pill.
Most of the Christmas Poems you find are bad. Mawkish. Sentimental. These are not.  Annunciation Salvation to all that will is nigh; That All, which always is all everywhere, Which cannot sin, and yet all sins must bear, Which cannot die, yet cannot choose but die, Lo, faithful virgin, yields Himself to lie In … Continue reading Two Sunday Sonnets for Christmas Eve.
The quote is from a wonderful essay around teaching poetry at high school. I have never read Herbert. And I have never, before thought that Donne was a pimp. Perhaps he would have challenged any who said so to him. I was less encouraged when only a couple of kids liked George Herbert. After our … Continue reading Donne is a Pimp.
Seventeen Since she whom I lov'd hath payd her last debt To Nature, and to hers, and my good is dead, And her Scule early into heaven ravished, Wholly on heavenly things my mind is sett. Here the admyring her my mind did whett To seeke thee God; so streames do shew their head; But … Continue reading Sunday Holy Sonnet
Mick does not send me many emails, but when he does it is worth following them up. He recommended this site, and in doing so says something about all of us who blog about faith. We are struggling with the journey. Part of this “bog” is my autobiography. Joshua Liebman in his “Peace of mind,” … Continue reading Sunday Holy Sonnett
Fourteen. Batter my heart, three person'd God; for, youAs yet but knocke, breathe, shine, and seeke to mend,That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow mee, and bendYour force, to breake, blowe, burn and make me new.I, like an usurpt towne, to another due,Labour to admit you, but Oh, to no end,Reason your viceroy in mee, … Continue reading Sunday Holy Sonnet.
Thirteen What if this present were the worlds last night? Marke in my heart, O Soule, where thou dost dwell, The picture of Christ crucified, and tell Whether that countenance can thee affright, Teares in his eyes quench the amazing light, Blood fills his frownes, which from his pierc'd head fell. And can that tongue … Continue reading Sunday Holy Sonnet
Twelve Why are we by all creatures waited on? Why do the prodigal elements supply Life and food to me, being more pure than I, Simple, and further from corruption? Why brook'st thou, ignorant horse, subjection? Why dost thou, bull, and bore so seelily, Dissemble weakness, and by one man's stroke die, Whose whole kind … Continue reading Sunday Holy Sonnet
Nine If poysonous mineralls, and if that tree, Whose fruit threw death on else immortall us, If lecherous goats, if serpents envious Cannot be damn'd; Alas; why should I bee? Why should intent or reason, borne in mee, Make sinnes, else equall, in mee more heinous? And mercy being easie, and glorious To God; in … Continue reading Sunday Holy Sonnet
Apropos for Palm Sunday If faithful souls be alike glorified As angels, then my father's soul doth see, And adds this even to full felicity, That valiantly I hell's wide mouth o'erstride: But if our minds to these souls be descried By circumstances, and by signs that be Apparent in us, not immediately, How shall … Continue reading Sunday Holy Sonnet