N. Hawthorne encouraged us to do anything, something, (heroic?) even though life brings huge discouragement: "Tell me not, in mournful numbers, that life is but an empty dream ..." PSALM OF LIFE
I had to pen something like poetry today
It's World Poetry day, they say (internet ads)
Yet today is over, on its way, where we "stay"*
In South Africa. No internet on other phone
By chance I tried this (MTN service), won
A reprieve, a respite, an extension to the day
A list of best poems: Poe's Raven, Sonnet 18
By the bard (Shall I compare thee to a summers day?)
Elizabeth Barrett Browning's love poem
And Nathaniel Hawthorne's PSALM OF LIFE
So my work - brief, bearing light - is done
And off I run ... In donker** Suid Africa again
* STAY has US connotations with cohabitation and vacation. In RSA, it is used for "live" (as in, Where do you live/stay now?")
** "Donker' is dark or darkness, in Afrikaans. I used it because of loadshedding: our notoriety for electricity cuts that has business & people in "revolt" here.
I know I'd never be perfect for you
but there's a person inside of me
That is down for you
I love to hear you speak
and your smell I miss
Your beautiful eyes I love staring
Shall I compare thee to a summers day
and sometimes I wonder who owned this precious flower
Bewrays my love;with broken words half spoken
Let this suffice ; the world yet may see
For I love times when saying
I love you!
Inspired by shall I compare thee to a summers day (Sonnet 18)
Shall I meet thee on a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely than my usual mate.
Rough winds do shake your darling buds of May,
But summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of Helen shines,
And often the shade of my deception dims;
But Helen’s keenly watching sight declines,
By chance, or God’s allowance of my whims.
But thy infernal summer shall soon fade
And lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
And death shall brag thou serv'est as his maid,
Thine face shall host eternal lines that grow’st
So long as man can breathe or eyes can see,
So shall fair maidens congregate to me.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more annoying than a buzzing mosquito.
Rough winds do radiate from your way,
And your face is red as a ripe tomato.
Sometimes too bright your sweaty skin doth shine
And often is my fair vision dimmed
By the sight of your face, in decline,
And your thighs, needing to be slimmed.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
When will you pay the money that thou ows’t?
Thy personality cuts me like a blade
When in eternal lines to time thou wrinkles grow’st,
So long as men can breathe and eyes can see,
So long lives this: thou shalt remain ugly.
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