Pet poems
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Reading Titus Andronicus In Three Mile Plains, N.S.
© Clarke George Elliott
Rue: When Witnesses sat before Bibles open like platesAnd spat sour sermons of interposition and nullification,While burr-orchards vomited bushels of thorns, and leavesRattled like uprooted skull-teeth across rough highways,And stars ejected brutal, serrated, heart-shredding light,And dark brothers lied down, quare, in government graves,Their white skulls jabbering amid farmer's dead flowers -
The Ballad of Othello Clemence
© Clarke George Elliott
There's a black wind howlin' by Whylah Falls;There's a mad rain hammerin' the flowers;There's a shotgunned man moulderin' in petals;There's a killer chucklin' to himself;There's a mother keenin' her posied son;There's a joker amblin' over his bones
The Assassination of Indira Gandhi
© Clarke George Elliott
In Kitchener, Hallowe'en frost chokes roses,The spruce gangrene, and haystacks flame in fieldsWhere Mennonites preach black, scorched-earth gospels
Shopping
© Christakos Margaret
She goes from store to storewanting to spend money on herselfto forget him, his belligerent asshole idiot self.
The Summoner's Prologue and Tale in the Hengwrt Manuscript of the Canterbury Tales
© Geoffrey Chaucer
{{Folio 78v}}¶The Prologe of the Somnours taleThis Somnour in his Stiropes / hye he {s}toodVp on this frere / his herte was {s}o woodThat lyk an A{s}pen lief / he quook for Ire¶Lordynges quod he / but o thyng I de{s}ireI yow bi{s}eke / that of youre curtei{s}yeSyn ye had herd / this fal{s}e frere lyeAs suffreth me / I may my tale telleThis frere bo{s}teth / that he knoweth helleAnd god it woot/ that it is litel wonderffreres and feendes / been but lyte a {s}onder{{Folio 79r}}ffor pardee / ye han ofte tyme herd telleHow that a frere / rauy{ss}hed was to helleIn Spirit ones / by avi{s}iounAnd as an Aungel / ladde hym vp and downTo shewen hym / the peynes
þt
ther wereIn al the place / say he nat a frereOf oother folk / he say ynowe in woVn to this Aungel / spak the frere tho¶Now Sire quod he / han freres swich a
gra
The Shipman's Tale in the Hengwrt Manuscript of the Canterbury Tales
© Geoffrey Chaucer
{{Folio 204r}}¶Here bigynneth the Shipmannes tale A Marchant whilom / dwelled at Seint Denys That riche was / for which men helde hym wys A wyf he hadde / of excellent beautee And compaignable / and reuelous was she Which is a thyng/ that cau{s}eth moore di{s}pence Than worth / is al the cheere and reuerence That men hem doon / at fe{s}tes and at daunces Swiche salutacions / and contenances Pa{ss}en / as dooth a shadwe vp on the wal But wo is hym / that payen moot for al The sely hou{s}bonde / algate he moot paye He moot vs clothe / and he moot vs arraye Al for his owene wor{s}hip / richely In which array / we dauncen iolily And if
þt
he noght may /
per
The Reeve's Prologue and Tale from the Hengwrt Manuscript of the Canterbury Tales
© Geoffrey Chaucer
¶The
pro
loge / of the Reues tale Whan folk hadde laughen / at this nyce cas Of Ab{s}olon / and hende Nicholas Di
uer
The Miller's Prologue and Tale from the Hengwrt Manuscript of the Canterbury Tales
© Geoffrey Chaucer
{{Folio 41r}}¶The prologe of the Milleres taleWHan that the knyght/ hadde thus his tale ytooldIn al the compaignie / nas ther yong ne ooldThat he ne seyde / it was a noble StorieAnd worthy / for to drawen to memorieAnd namely / the gentils euerichon¶Oure hoo{s}t lough / and swoor / {s}o moot I gonThis gooth aright/ vnbokeled is the maleLat se now / who shal telle another taleffor trewely / the game is wel bigonneNow telleth ye sire Monk / if
þt
ye konneSom what / to quite with the knyghtes tale¶The Millere / that for dronken was a paleSo that vnnethe / vp on his hors he satHe nolde aualen / neither hood ne hatNe abiden no man / for his curtei{s}yeBut in Pilates voys / he gan to cryeAnd swoor by armes / and by blood and bonesI kan a noble tale / for the nonesWith which / I wol now quite the knyghtes tale¶Oure hoo{s}t saugh /
þt
The General Prologue from the Hengwrt Manuscript of the Canterbury Tales
© Geoffrey Chaucer
{{Folio 2r}}Here bygynneth the Book{/} of the tales of Can
ter
buryWhan that Aueryll
with
The Friar's Prologue and Tale in the Hengwrt Manuscript of the Canterbury Tales
© Geoffrey Chaucer
{{Folio 73v}}¶The prologe of the ffreres tale This worthy lymytour / this noble frere He made alwey / a manere louryng cheere Vp on the Somnour / but for hone{s}tee No vileyns word / as yet to hym spak he But atte la{s}te / he seyde vn to the wyf ¶ Dame quod he god yeue yow right good lyf Ye han heer touched / al {s}o mote I thee In scole matere / greet difficultee Ye han seyd muche thyng/ right wel I seye But dame / here as we ryden by the weye Vs nedeth nat/ to speken / but of game And lete Auctoritees / on goddes name To prechyng/ and to scole of clergye But/ if it like / to this compaignye I wol yow / of a Somnour telle a game Pardee / ye may wel knowe by the name That of a Somn
our
/ may no good be {s}ayd I praye / that noon of yow / be ypayd A somnour / is a rennere vp and doun With mandementz / for fornicacioun And is ybet/ at euery townes ende ¶ Oure hoo{s}t tho spak / a sire ye sholde be hende{{Folio 74r}} And curteys / as a man of youre e{s}taat/ In compaignye / we wol no debaat/ Telleth youre tale / and lat the Somn
our
A Leak in the Dike
© Cary Phoebe
The good dame looked from her cottage At the close of the pleasant day,And cheerily called to her little son Outside the door at play:"Come, Peter, come! I want you to go, While there is light to see,To the hut of the blind old man who lives Across the dike, for me;And take these cakes I made for him-- They are hot and smoking yet;You have time enough to go and come Before the sun is set
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: Canto the Third
© George Gordon Byron
I Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart? When last I saw thy young blue eyes they smil'd, And then we parted--not as now we part, But with a hope
The Trinity Cake
© Burke Johnny
As I leaned o'er the rail of the Eagle, The letter boy brought unto me,A little gilt edged invitation, Saying the girls want you over to tea,Sure I know the O'Hooligans sent it, And I went, just for ould friendship sakeWhen the first thing they gave me to tackle, Was a slice of the Trinity Cake
Loss of the S.S. Regulus
© Burke Johnny
Ye daring sons of Newfoundland, That fear not storm or seaPlease hearken for a moment And attention give to me,While I explain in language plain, That filled hearts with dismay,Of how the Regulus got lost In Petty Harbor Bay
The Book of Urizen
© William Blake
CHAPTER IIn Eternity! Unknown, unprolific,Self-clos'd, all-repelling: what demonHath form'd this abominable void,This soul-shudd'ring vacuum? Some said"It is Urizen
