111 1/2 THE SONNoTs







“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 



 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! 

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