Let us turn from Alexander Pope, George Herbert and their pastoral fantasies. Yes, they were masters. Yes, they were poets. But here, in 2020 A.D, we perceive poetry in a different manner. We are CONFESSIONAL, oh yes. (Like Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton and what’s her name . . . ) So, GET READY for […]
A White Rose said to an African Violet: Purple darkness makes my day. The Violet, showing forth her petals, spoke: Let’s share some sun this May. PROMPT #11: Write a poem in which one or more flowers take on specific meanings. OK. I didn’t blow off the prompt today. I have discharged […]
One thinks on Calvin heav’n’s own spirit fell; Another deems him instrument of hell; If Calvin feel heav’n’s blessing, or its rod, This cries there is, and that, there is no God. Alexander Pope A transcendental tulip is blooming in my garden. Before the petals wither, before affections harden, I pray it may diffuse its […]
Flavia’s a wit, has too much sense to pray, To Toast our wants and wishes, is her way; Nor asks of God, but of her stars to give The mighty blessing, “while we live, to live.” Then all for death, that opiate of the soul! Lucretia’s dagger, Rosamonda’s bowl. Say, what can cause such […]
