Category Archives: Poetry
The greatest poem ever written
1
If when Don Cupid’s dart
Doth wound a heart,
We hide our grief
And shun relief,
The smart increaseth on that score;
For wounds unsearcht but rankle more.
2
Then if we whine, look pale,
And tell our tale,
Men are in pain
For us again;
So, neither speaking doth become
The lover’s state, nor being dumb.
3
When this I do descry,
Then thus think I:
Love is the fart
Of every heart;
It pains a man when ’tis kept close,
And others doth offend when ’tis let loose.
—Sir John Suckling, 1609–1642
The Broken Rose
~ ~ ~
The Broken Rose
Who would love the blossomed rose—
Luster her alluring pow’r,
Fragrance of arousal crowned?
Lovers all ablaze surround—
Bloom and root and stem devour.
Who would want the broken rose?
Seared in sin, in ashes grown;
Tortured pale, her petals torn;
Leaves are lost and left the thorn
Naked on the stem, alone.
Jesus wants the broken rose
While her twisted shape is thrown,
Shriveled, to the wilting scorn:
“Leave, oh, leave her not forlorn,”
Wept and whispered for his own.
Jesus loves the broken rose,
Waters with a bleeding show’r;
Root has gripped the sanguine ground;
Drops of blood, their riches found,
Rise through stem and red the flow’r.
~ ~ ~
Photo by David Garzon
The Book of Happiness – Meditation 13: An Ode to Puppy Dogs
Some of you may have heard this one before, so I apologize for putting you through this again. This poem is my closest brush with high culture. I wrote it during a physics lecture on Valentines Day 2003. Obviously, I don’t remember what the lecture was about. As far as artistic endeavors go, it’s been downhill ever since.
Enjoy Meditation #13 from The Book of Happiness: An Ode to Puppy Dogs.
