Monthly Archives: February 2014

May I Present Humphrey Gifford

1580 woman

 

A Delectable Dream

Here is a timeless satire on the faoibles of woman.  It was written nearly four hundred years ago, yet it sounds like a twentieth-century comment–a twentieth-century man’s comment.

A woman’s face is full of wiles,

Her tears are like the crocodiles;

With outward cheer on thee she smiles

When in her heart she thinks thee ill.

Her tongue still chats of this and that,

Than aspen leaf it wags more fast;

And as she walks she knows not what,

There issues many a truthless blast.

Thou far dost take thy mark amiss

If thou think faith in them to find.

The weathercock more constant is,

Which turns about with every wind.

Oh, how in pity they abound!

Their heart is mild like marble stone’

If in thyself no hope be found,

Be sure of them thou gettest none.

I know some pepper-nosed dame

Will term me fool and saucy jack,

That dare their credit so defame

And lay such slanders on their back.

What though on me they pour their spite?

I may not use the glozer’s trade:

I cannot say the crow is white,

But needs must call a spade a spade

(c. 1580)

glozer: flatterer.

I Write About…

A great poem from my friend Venus Bohemia. Enjoy!

ROZIET GARRUSE

I write about Love. Whatever that concept means to me.
I write about Fate, as if I know what Fate really is.
I write about Pain, convinced that I feel it everyday.

I write about Children, as the future of a questionable prorated world.
I write about Men, as creatures, for quite some time, overrated.
I write about Women, including myself, as opposed, but liberated now.

I write about Music, as the “cause and effect” of our insane society.
I write about Politics, and their crookery, power-hungry status.
I write about Nature, and the way humankind destroys it day by day.

I write about God and His Unconditional love for my son and for me.
I write about Sins, and how hard it is to stay away from it, on my daily basis.
I write about Free-will, and the disguised idea we all have, “we can do everything!”.

I write…

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My Funny Valentine

I know that this blog is a place of writing, writers and poets. But today is Valentine’s Day and the song “My Funny Valentine” just popped in my head, so I wanted to share this video of a great Jazz Singer, Sarah Vaughan.

Sarah Lois Vaughan (March 27, 1924 — April 3, 1990) was an American jazz singer, described by Scott Yanow as having “one of the most wondrous voices of the 20th century.” Nicknamed “Sailor” (for her salty speech), “Sassy” and “The Divine One”, Sarah Vaughan was a Grammy Award winner. The National Endowment for the Arts bestowed upon her its “highest honor in jazz”, the NEA Jazz Masters Award, in 1989… http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sarah_Vaughan

Hope

pandoras_box

 

 

I’m thinking again of Pandora

and the box, of the boy

committed to stopping her

until she undid her golden braids

and got her way.

He’d wanted to open it, too,

but he’s made a promise

to a friend, and for a while

the promise was relevant.

I’m thinking of irrelevance,

of word and spirit and heart,

how the boy leaned against

her warm shoulder for a look

just as the evil Passions swooped

like mosquitoes to their necks,

the hundred and fifty Sorrows

stinging them with guilt and worry

they’d carry all their lives,

the paradise of childhood gone,

work now to be done,

clothes to mend, hunger and thirst

gushing out their laughter.

I’m thinking too

of my own irrelevance

when friends now dead chopped crank

on hand mirrors and snorted it

through rolled-up dollar bills, when

Wild C, who was like a brother,

jumped in front of an El train

after his girlfriend didn’t take him back.

Philadelphia: that city a box of sorrows,

a flock of swirling darknesses.

And don’t forget the many Cares

Pandora let loose,

the black clouds that trailed them

like doppelgangers.  Follow them

over doorways and skyline.

Listen to them darting about, tickliing

before they burrow in and spread.

In a  week my daughter will be six.

This summer she’s in paradise:

swimming, her cat, books, ice cream.

I’m thinking again of Pandora

because I’m thinking of Hope,

the last force to rise from the box,

the only answer to Troubles

like loneliness and age.

Fear is the knot in a golden cord

twisted around the heart,

without end or beginning.

Hope is the hand that unties it.

 

Poetry by Daniel Donaghy