~ Summer Come Down ~

The pushy sun rises
Before I fall in a
Bed:
Yours?
Mine
Anyone?

We emerge muddled with ice
Onto leaden streets stripped
Bare:
Feet
Chests
Souls

The love leaf’s wearing thin
Too many genies
Escaping:
Wandering
Down
River

The plain city birds’
disgusting song
Annoys:
Me
Alone
One

Posted on May 28, 2010, in Art, Nostalgia, Poetry, Words and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 6 Comments.

  1. I was just trawling the memory banks and walking through Vauxhall one Sunday morning 🙂

  2. THE SUN RISING.
    by John Donne

    BUSY old fool, unruly Sun,
    Why dost thou thus,
    Through windows, and through curtains, call on us ?
    Must to thy motions lovers’ seasons run ?
    Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
    Late school-boys and sour prentices,
    Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,
    Call country ants to harvest offices ;
    Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
    Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

    Thy beams so reverend, and strong
    Why shouldst thou think ?
    I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
    But that I would not lose her sight so long.
    If her eyes have not blinded thine,
    Look, and to-morrow late tell me,
    Whether both th’ Indias of spice and mine
    Be where thou left’st them, or lie here with me.
    Ask for those kings whom thou saw’st yesterday,
    And thou shalt hear, “All here in one bed lay.”

    She’s all states, and all princes I ;
    Nothing else is ;
    Princes do but play us ; compared to this,
    All honour’s mimic, all wealth alchemy.
    Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we,
    In that the world’s contracted thus ;
    Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
    To warm the world, that’s done in warming us.
    Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere ;
    This bed thy centre is, these walls thy sphere.

  3. Great detailed information, I just bookmarked you on my google reader.

    Sent via Blackberry

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