Waking to the alarm
He thinks on the charm
Of woman (not here).
Yet the imagined ideal
Does, I fear
So often obscure the real.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Girls ponder on jewels
While fools Misconstrue
What is true.
Hamlet will gather Rue
Ere the day is through.
—
In Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” it is, of course Ophelia (not Hamlet) who gathers rue.
Should a poem conform
To some abstract
Form
Of rhyme and metre?
Trying to hard may defeat her.
The poet that is, who striving for perfection
Feels only dejection
And bangs her head
Until she sees red
Or shooting stars,
Which rhymes with cars,
But not a publishing contract,
that is a fact …
Saints with feet of clay
Play
With fallen angels
Who have bills to pay.
Such men are Lucifer, some will say,
While others plead
Man has his needs
And there are hungry mouths to feed.
The poor Thai
Asks not why,
But takes the cash,
Or simply dies.
Anyone who has read Edgar Allan Poe can attest to his use of the English language to convey beauty as poignant and surreal to whatever situation life may reveal. His sense of the macabre is elegant and alluring, so much so that we see ourselves as the very target of ethereal forces at work.
The story of ‘Ligeia’ represents Poe’s fascination with love and the occult, the hidden side of life not often visited but which can unexpectedly manifest itself into the realm of the living. Love is enchanting at first and then assembles a castle of obsession. This theme is well represented in the very name of ‘Ligeia’, which borrows heavily from its origins as one of the Sirens in Greek mythology enticing sailors with alluring melodies and enchanted singing, causing blind obsession for the hypnotic sounds as the victims sail closer and closer, only to fall off the…
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I Seek for grace,
In nature’s ever changing face.
Yesterday
the sheeting rain chased empty thought away.
This morning, The wind purifies,
Birds sing in sunny skies.
At times, my spirit flies
Or goes asighing with the breeze.
Would
That I could
Soar high up in the trees
And be lost among the leaves.
I am pleased to publish the below announcement by my friend, author Victoria (Tori) Zigler:
For those who don’t know, I write poetry, as well as books for children of various ages.
Back in 2012, I started publishing my books in multiple eBook formats. Then, in early 2015, I decided it was way past time I started making my books available in paperback for those who still prefer physical copies of books.
Now, more than a year later, I’m pleased to be able to report that I’m all caught up with my backlist, and every book of mine for which the publication date has been and gone, is now available not just in multiple eBook formats, but also in paperback too.
The eBooks are available via Smashwords, Barnes & Noble, Apple iBooks, Kobo, and the other places Smashwords distributes to. Plus, if your local library supports eBook lending, you may be able to find my books as eBooks there (or request that your library orders copies).
The paperbacks are available via CreateSpace, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and any other places CreateSpace books are available from, including any libraries happy to order copies.
Future titles will also be made available as paperbacks as well as eBooks.
“He’s dead”
She said.
What to say?
Meaningless words
Of sympathy, by her probably only half heard
While thinking “I must get away,
The shop will soon close
And heaven knows
I am out of milk. Well nearly so.
Poor lady how will she go
On without him?”
A short walk and I am in
The shop where once they together went
And spent notes that crumble into dust.
The Minotaur doth roar
For his stomach is sore,
On account of the plump maiden he ate
Together with cutlery and plate!
“Oh why Did I partake
Of a girl so overweight.
By Zeus my stomach doth ache.
In future I will stick to steak!”
The Minotaur said, with a shake of his head.
Thoughts muddy
I will forsake
And take
Refuge in my study,
Among poets who speak
Words that endure beyond a week.
I shall sit listening to birdsong.
The long
Summer days willimperceptibly turn
Into Autumn. I shall the world spurn
And yearn
For Keat’s Nightingale.
A fascinating post. Kevin
A Roman writing tablet found in the mud. Photo: MOLA / Atlas Obscura
On January 8, 57 AD, Tibullus, a freed slave in London, promised to repay 105 denarii, a hefty sum, to another freed slave named Gratus. Meanwhile, one friend admonished another that he’s lent too much money and is being gossiped about. And a merchant was making a desperate plea for repayment of debts owed to him.
We know all this, thanks to an archeological treasure recently unearthed, as reported by Atlas Obscura: over 400 writing tablets that document financial transactions that are the oldest handwritten documents discovered in England.
Image: Erik Kwakkel / British Museum: Wooden shaft with nib excavated at Vindolanda (late Antique)
As befits a business people, Romans founded London around 40 AD in order to facilitate commerce. And commerce means records. When recording something for posterity, the Romans used
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