111
THE SONNETS
“O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide
The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds,
That did not better for my life provide
Than public means which public manners breeds.
Thence comes it that my name receives a brand,
And almost thence my nature is subdued
To what it works in, like the dryer hand.
Pity me then, and wish I were renewed,
Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drink
Potions of easel ‘gainst my strong infection;
No bitterness that I will bitter think,
Nor doubt penance, to correct correction.
Pity me then, dear friend, and I assure ye
Even that your pity is enough to cure me.”
Shakespeare –
111 1/2
THE SONNoTs
Satisfy the public
CALL OUT in the darkest hour
a crazed woman’s plea
earning a livelihood
in a society with vulgar manners
preposterous absurd
neglect no respect….
So oft I invoked thee for my muse
painting the World beautiful hues
HEARTs cured
subdued by just one word
reflect or even better yet
imagination runs away with me…
Spear ShakeR –
tip: write to someone you LOVE life is short so remember SHARE the LOVE!
