John Donne* (1572 – March 31, 1631 Jacobean poet, satirist, lawyer and preacher/cleric in the Church of England considered the founding figure of the so-called metaphysical poetry movement dwells in this 6/8/6/8 lined quatrain of stanzas on love the other topic on which his well deserved 'master' poet' reputation famously rests.His analytical mind draws out universal truths recognised by we favoured with true love experientially our lives
*English cleric one John Donne
oneday his poetics had just begun
A master of verse so erotic
so divine & metaphysique
In this (an appropriate PS choice for a Sunday morning)abba sonneteerJohn Donne (1572 – March 31, 1631 Jacobean poet, satirist, lawyer and preacher/cleric in the Church of Englan considered the founding figure of the so-called metaphysical poetry movement dwells on this most significant rite of passage with his 'concluding couplet' a paraphrased evangelical 'revelation' quotation on this topic.
Marcus Martialis
with epigrams was 'delish'
A clever satirist
in witty words did persist
Aldous Huxley with a famous granpa
became a satirist of the dystopoia
Poetic in the metaphysical modr
'Doors of Perfection' with its hidden codr
I’d rather be a realist than an anarchist
I’d rather be a hammer than a nail
I’d rather be an artist than an activist
I’d rather be the water and bread than the jail
With whom do you identify?
Which side are you on?
Will you be left at the station
After the trains have gone?
I’d rather be a satirist than a philanthropist
I’d rather be a Titan than a god
I’d rather be the patient than the therapist
I’d rather be the blindfold than the firing squad
What do you know
When the ship don’t go
And the winds won’t blow
Just rocking to and fro
On the sea of contradictions
I’d rather be the angel than the archon
I’d rather be the pauper than the prince
I’d rather be the tissue than the hardon
I'd rather I didn’t dirty the world
with my useless fingerprints
With whom do you identify?
Which side are you on?
Will you be left in the harbor
After the yachts are gone?
I’ll grant you a modern laptop
hooked up to an HP printer
is a more efficient and cer-
tainly a cleaner means to re-
produce yr message than
the whirling drum of rebellious
black ink we depended upon
back in nineteen fifty-seven.
But when my spellcheck wants to change
brideshead to birdseed, I wonder
whether that satirist of misuse
whose black warriors ate their British
boots and used a tank to melt down
belligerent recruits would laugh or cringe
waiting for the machine to send
out once a year condolences
that the man who’d mocked stupidity
had traded life in a mansion
for a sack of sunflower seeds?
Zany insanity,
he’s a buffoon from the moon-
Quipster and hipster,
he’s a complicated pantaloon.
Prankster gangster,
tactless with madness-
Wisecracker and entertainer
is he fun, or full of sadness?
He’s humorous and caddy,
frivolous yet crabby-
Gabby and a chump,
a lark and real tacky.
Life of the party,
wears pants full of smarty-
A cracker-upper,
always late for supper.
You may wonder who I speak of,
this satirist man that could be you-
He’s a practical trickster joker,
from the city of Katmandu.
He seems to be famous,
he may be very acclaimed,
he’s notorious for being a jester,
and Robin Williams is his name!
August 9, 2017
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