Frank's Submission for Monday, January 21st

GOOD MORNING, THIS MORNING

Death is very common but not,
I hear, 100% effective; one,

once, unjustly, I suppose, hung
up, downed, rose, a rising

that delivered death to plenitudes
in scatterings, swingings, stakes

of grubbed up flesh (set afire),
limbs, heads cut off, etc.: is

this a small price to pay for
something to believe in: nature

is just here, a lovely if careless
spread, and its dynamics, seen

to and smoothed out, can be
suggestive: otherwise, the fridge's

clean but for what we ourselves
devise: belief, at any cost,

serves life: let life do without.

--a r ammons

Adriana's Submission for Monday, January 21st

The Fool's Prayer
by Edward Rowland Sill

The royal feast was done; the King
Sought some new sport to banish care,
And to his jester cried: "Sir Fool,
Kneel now and make for us a prayer!

The jester doffed his cap and bells,
And stood the mocking court before;
They could not see the bitter smile
Behind the painted grin he wore.

He bowed his head and bent his knee
Upon the monarch's silken stool;
His pleading voice arose: "O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!

"No pity, Lord, could change the heart
The rod must heal the sin: but, Lord,
From red with wrong to white as wool;
Be merciful to me, a fool!

" 'Tis not by guilt the onward sweep
Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay;
'Tis by our follies that so long
We hold the earth from heaven away.

"These clumsy feet, still in the mire,
Go crushing blossoms without end;
These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust
Among the heart-strings of a friend.

"The ill-timed truth we might have kept -
Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung?
The word we had not sense to say -
Who knows how grandly it had rung?

"Our faults no tenderness should ask,
The chastening stripes must clense them all;
But for our blunders - oh in shame
Before the eyes of heaven we fall.

"Earth bears no balsam for mistakes;
Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool
That did his will; but Thou, O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!"

The room was hushed; in silence rose
The King, and sought his gardens cool,
And walked apart, and murmured low,
"Be merciful to me, a fool!"

Alice's Submission for Monday, January 21st

Sonnet 148
by William Shakespeare

O me! What eyes hath love put in my head,
Which have no correspondence with true sight?
Or if they have, where is my judgment fled,
That censures falsely what they see aright?
If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote,
What means the world to say it is not so?
If it be not, then love doth well denote,
Love's eye is not so true as all men's: no,
How can it? O how can love's eye be true,
That is so vexed with watching and with tears?
No marvel then though I mistake my view:
The sun itself sees not, till heaven clears.
    O cunning love, with tears thou keep'st me blind,
    Lest eyes well seeing thy foul faults should find.

Gabe's submission for Monday, January 21st

Lifes deathes loves life
By Robert Southwell

Who lives in love, loves lest to live
     And longe delayes doth rue
If him he love by whome he lives
     To whome all love is dewe.
Who for our love did choose to live
     And was content to dye
Who lov’d our love more then his life
     And love with life did buy.
Lett us in life yea with our life
     Requite his livinge love
For best we live when lest we live
     If love our life remove.
Where love is hott life hateful is
     Their groundes do not agree
Love where it loves life where it lives
     Desyreth most to bee.
And sith love is not where it lives
     Nor liveth where it loves
Love hateth life that holdes it backe
     And death it best approves
For seldome is he woonn in life
     Whome love doth most desire
If woonn by love yet not enjoyde
     Till mortall life expire
Life out of earth hath no abode
     In earth love hath no place
Love setled hath her joyes in heaven
     In earth life all her grace
Mourne therefore no true lovers death
     Life onely him annoyes
And when he taketh leave of life
     Then love beginnes his joyes.