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I In My Intricate Image

 I

I, in my intricate image, stride on two levels,
Forged in man's minerals, the brassy orator
Laying my ghost in metal,
The scales of this twin world tread on the double,
My half ghost in armour hold hard in death's corridor,
To my man-iron sidle.

Beginning with doom in the bulb, the spring unravels,
Bright as her spinning-wheels, the colic season
Worked on a world of petals;
She...Read more of this...

Juggling Jerry

 Pitch here the tent, while the old horse grazes:
By the old hedge-side we'll halt a stage.
It's nigh my last above the daisies:
My next leaf'll be man's blank page.
Yes, my old girl! and it's no use crying:
Juggler, constable, king, must bow.
One that outjuggles all's been spying
Long to have me, and he has me now.

We've travelled times to this old common:
Often...Read more of this...

An Apology for my fearfull temper

 Tis true of courage I'm no mistress
No Boadicia nor Thalestriss
Nor shall I e'er be famed hereafter
For such a Soul as Cato's Daughter
Nor active valour nor enduring 
Nor leading troops nor forts securing
Like Teckley's wife or Pucell valiant
Will e'er be reckonded for my talent
Who all things fear whilst day is shining
And my own shadow light declining 
And from the Spleen's...Read more of this...

John Skelton

 What could be dafter 
Than John Skelton’s laughter? 
What sound more tenderly 
Than his pretty poetry? 
So where to rank old Skelton? 
He was no monstrous Milton, 
Nor wrote no “Paradise Lost,” 
So wondered at by most, 
Phrased so disdainfully, 
Composed so painfully. 
He struck what Milton missed, 
Milling an English grist 
With homely turn and twist. 
He was...Read more of this...

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