#metaphysical conceit

[literatureresources-blog]

The Flea John Donne

[francois26-blog]

LIGHT YEARS AWAY

I am beyond time I am light years away what you see of me is no longer there when you look at me I am ten thousand years ago

[francois26-blog]

MR DONNE

Mr Donne remains a bit confused for how can you use the conceit of a protractor when in the age of information she is always there a Heaven of surveillance leaving you more undone Mr Donne that your poetry figured could ever be

[francois26-blog]

A SUBMARINER'S SONG

oh yes I can outdo you for depth outrange a metaphysical in terms of far-fetched conceit like comparing lovers to a submarine bottoming out rising, diving dodging depth charges (for what is this hostility to love the world -- my world -- feels?)

[francois26-blog]

MY WORLD

my world was lying on its side it had made me dizzy the whole night trying to come good on its demands make the revolving, wheeling hanging man the catalyst required

[amish-you]

Our two souls therefore, which are one, Though I must go, endure not yet A breach, but an expansion, Like gold to airy thinness beat. If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin compasses are two ; Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show To move, but doth, if th' other do. And though it in the centre sit, Yet, when the other far doth roam, It leans, and hearkens after it, And grows erect, as that comes home. Such wilt thou be to me, who must, Like th' other foot, obliquely run ; Thy firmness makes my circle just, And makes me end where I begun.

from A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning // John Donne

[joehywheelah]

We are a breath exhaled in cold winter, Transferred in the frozen night air, slowing The shards of ice from piercing, shattering In my lungs, locking close your warmth, further Increasing the ache of the lost fervor That left the fresh hole in my throat, gasping For your searing, fading heat, escaping My lips, braiding pale words with hot ardor. Fleeting is this breath, the air passed between Two lungs, grappling as it fades away Into the darkness of night, to decay In the snowy needles of the pine trees; A lost thought, the last act, a frozen scene— ‘Til a second breath releases the breeze.

[geauxgrace]

Just wrote this poem for Brit Lit:

If you were a vacuum cleaner, you would not be any greater!

All of the bad you suck into yourself as a cyclone.

I knew this dust would be sucked up sooner or later,

Since I’ve found you, my life has been cleaner than a river stone.

  With you in my life, the dirt is never just blown

From carpet to tile, it is taken into your dust bag.

At long last, my home is clean and I can brag.