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golden hair
flickering light
frantic embrace
soft agony
private whisper
whitely naked
perilous love
murmur farewell
sudden shot
red flower breast
semperfiona: (Default)

I saved some of the more memorable bits that originated from my magnetic poetry kit on the fridge. Which has not been up since I moved into my apt. About time I put them back. They were a small force for creativity...random juxtapositions of words resulting in interesting thought-sparks. I had the basic set, and the Shakespeare set. (Thee, thou, codpiece, bawdy, loathe, that sort of words.)

I call them poetry shards, because they're mostly just snippets, and the play on words amuses me. Here are all the shards I saved. Damn, I'd forgotten how good some of these really are! (It's amusing, too, that I'm writing this in MSWord, and it doesn't seem to believe in Elizabethan English. According to the spillchucker, Begone should be Begonia. Knowst should be Knots.) It may be obvious that these were all written during the collapse of my marriage.

  1. And hastily seek poison
    Which hath a smell of temptation

  2. Away, lady! Question nightly
    Thy drunken daydreams

  3. Farewell, goblet, deceive drunkard no more!

  4. Farewell, measured grace! Begone seemliness!
    Aye, vouchsafe me whatsoever merry temptation
    Perchance may quench my fiery bosom

  5. Forswear melancholy vehemence

  6. Foul villain and bawdy wench alike
    Yield, cursing, to loathsome death

  7. Hasten therefore in ghostly grace
    Yielding every vow
    Lest love's wanton tale
    Strike some wicked death

  8. I beseech thee lover,
    Such mercy vouchsafe
    That light o'ermeasure

  9. I curse direst mischance
    Whatsoever cometh
    With yonder perilous question
    Foul loathsome dream

  10. Jest and slander warrant naught
    Make enemy of friend
    And almost never bring fortune

  11. Men speak torment in false lordship

  12. Wherefore envy night?

  13. Wherefore sanctify every wanton codpiece
    Lest fair fortune poison mortal lover?
    Knowst thou not that ghostly envy
    Must then torment thee with trifles
    For thy vulgar jesting?
    Forswear perilous death and tempt maiden never
    But bestow thy melancholy dream therefore
    Upon the discontented breast of an idle woman.

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