POET'S CORNER


Well, I see you found your way to this little corner of my site. I hope this will prove to be an entertaining page for you... Please, indulge...and read on.

You will find sonnets written by Shakespeare, some Ogden Nash and hopefully some day this page will be blessed by some of your pieces of art...

Here are some (3) Shakespearean sonnets :

No longer mourn for me when I am dead

Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell

Give warning to the world that I am fled

From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell.

Nay, if you read this line, remember not

The hand that writ it, for I love you so

That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,

If thinking on me then should make you woe.

O, if, I say, you look upon this verse,

When I, perhaps, compounded am with clay,

Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,

But let your love even with my life decay,

Lest the wise world should look into your moan,

And mock you with me after I am gone.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments ; love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.

O, no, it is an ever-fixed mark

that looks on tempests and is never shaken ;

It is the star to every wand'ring bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come ;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

mark seamark - the star the North Star - Whose worth's ... taken whose value is inestimable although the star's altitude has been determined - fool plaything/toy - compass range/circle etc... - bears it out survives - edge of doom the Judgment Day

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date.

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimmed ;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed ;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,

Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st.

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

fair from fair beautiful thing from beauty - untrimmed divested of ornament

Some of Ogden Nash's works :

This one is pretty cute. To all the wives out there, this one should interest you :

Aside to Husbands 

What do you do when you've wedded a girl all legal and lawful,
And she goes around saying she looks awful?
When she makes deprecatory remarks about her format,
And claims that her hair looks like a doormat?
When she swears that the complexion of which you are so fond
Looks like the bottom of a dried-up pond?
When she for whom your affection is not the least like Plato's
Compares her waist to a badly tied sack of potatoes?
Oh, who wouldn't rather be on a flimsy bridge with a hungry lion 
     at one end and a hungry tiger at the other end and hungry
     crocodiles underneath
Than confronted by their dearest making remarks about her own
     appearance through clenched teeth?
Why won't they believe that the reason they find themselves the 
     mother of your children is because you think of all the 
     looks in the world, their looks are the nicest?
Why must we continue to be thus constantly ordealed and crisised?
I think it high time these hoity-toity ladies were made to 
     realize that when they impugn their face and their ankles 
     and their waist
They are thereby insultingly impugning their tasteful husbands'
     impeccable taste.

SEDATIVE REFLECTION

Let the love-lorn lover cure insomnia

By murmuring AMOR VINCIT OMNIA.

A WORD TO HUSBANDS

To keep your marriage brimming, With love in the loving cup, Whenever you're wrong, admit it ; Whenever you're right, shut up.		 

The Trouble with Women is Men

A husband is a man who two minutes after his head touches the pillow is snoring    
like an overloaded omnibus, 
Particularly on those occasions when between the humidity and the mosquitoes your   
  own bed is no longer a bed, but an insomnibus,
And if you turn on the light for a little reading he is sensitive to the faintest   
  gleam,
But if by any chance you are asleep and he wakeful, he is not slow to rouse you     
with the complaint that he can't close his eyes, what about slipping downstairs     
and freezing him a cooling dish of pistachio ice cream.
His touch with a bottle opener is sure,
But he cannot help you get a tight dress over your head without catching three    
hooks and a button in your coiffure.
Nor can he so much as wash his ears without leaving an inch of water on the    
bathroom linoleum,
But if you menion it you evoke not a promise to splash no more but a mood of deep   
 melancholium.
Indeed, each time he transgresses your chance of correcting his faults grows    
lesser,
Because he produces either an maddeningly logical explanation or a look of    
martyrdom which leaves you instead of him feeling the remorse of the    
transgressor.
Such are husbandly foibles, but there are moments when a foible ceases to be a    
foible.
Next time you ask for a glass of water and when he brings it you have a needle    
almost threaded and instead of setting down he stands there holding it out to    
you, just kick him fairly hard in the stomach, you will find it                  
thoroughly enjoyable.

I would like to get some of your poetry on here too...just email your poem to me, indicate if you would like to remain anonymous, or give me the info you'd like me to post along with your poem!